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“I mean it. I do love you. I love you so much.”
“Me, too, baby.”
“And Ryan, I’m sorry for distracting you from your job.”
“Nah, that’s on me. Just gotta learn how to balance things.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes, and then Ryan stood and reached for my hand, “Come on. Let’s go to bed. Maybe I can get a couple of hours of sleep in.”
“Okay.”
I stared at my puffy eyes in the mirror and sighed, still unsure of how I felt. I was relieved he was back and that we had an understanding of sorts. He was sorry and he loved me and he was going to figure something out. I believed him. I truly did, but it was hard for me to push my misgivings away. Time was marching on, and I had no idea what “figuring things out” sounded like. I loved him, I didn’t want to lose him, and I was worried.
I sighed again as I grabbed my toothbrush and wet it. I had no idea why I was up so early other than the fact that my troubling thoughts refused to let me sleep and I was tired of lying in bed listening to Ryan breathe while I stared at the ceiling. His arm had felt good draped across my waist, but it had provided little comfort to me.
I squeezed a bit of toothpaste onto my toothbrush, but before I could shove it into my mouth, Ryan appeared in the mirror behind me, and although he had slept, he still looked tired. He wordlessly moved the thin strap of the tank top I’d slept in—as my late grandmother would put it— ready-roll and kissed my shoulder. Then he reached around and cupped both of my breasts through my shirt, squeezing the nipples until they were hard enough to cut glass while nibbling on my neck at the same time. I dropped the toothbrush in the sink and leaned against him, closing my eyes and releasing a moan. His hands left my breasts and I felt him gently push against my upper back, encouraging me to bend over the counter. I did, opening my eyes and meeting his in the mirror as he slid my panties to the side and entered me, releasing a moan that matched mine.
His eyes held mine as he glided in and out of my wetness, gripping my hips and licking his lips. “Baby,” he murmured, the first word he’d uttered since beginning this ambush.
“You’re gonna be late for work…” I whined as I grabbed for…something, finally wrapping my hand around the faucet, whimpering with each thrust he delivered.
“Angela…” he muttered. “Angela…”
I guess he didn’t care about being late for work.
I took my other hand and reached behind me, groping for him and finally landing on the bare skin of his muscular stomach. “Ryan…”
He leaned forward, pressing his lips to my back. “I love you,” he grunted. “I love you so much.”
“I…love…you…too…” I replied, as the pressure building inside of me made it hard to breathe, speak, think.
He placed his hands on my shoulders, closing his eyes as he thrusted deeper and deeper and deeper until…
“Ahhhhhhhh!!” we yelled in unison, our fused bodies seizing in concert.
Ryan rested his head on my back. “I love you, baby. I love you…”
“I love you, too, Ryan.”
34
It’d been two weeks since I almost lost her.
That night, I’d left the hotel fully intending to forget about her by replacing her. Went to a bar and was quickly approached by a tall, sexy sister, the kind of sexy most men would jump through hoops to get a taste of. She sat next to me, offered to buy me a drink, and at first, I thought I’d hit the jackpot. Then she flipped her hair and the scent of her perfume hit my nose. It was the same perfume Angela always wore. But she wasn’t Angela, and the perfume smelled different on this woman. When I smelled it on Angela, it reminded me of how it felt to hold her in my arms or listen to her breathe at night if she fell asleep before I did. But most of all, it made me think of making love to her.
As the woman talked about…hell, I don’t know what she was saying. Didn’t hear a word of it. All I could think about was how she was wearing Angela’s perfume but shouldn’t have been, because she wasn’t Angela. She didn’t look like her or sound like her, and I was one hundred percent sure she wouldn’t feel like her, either. As the woman smiled at me, probably waiting for me to respond to whatever she said, I realized I could sleep with ten women that night, and not one of them would feel like Angela or smell like Angela, or make me feel the way I felt when I was with her. So I paid for my drinks, the one I’d ordered but never touched, and the one the woman ordered for me that still sat full on the bar, too, and then I left, climbed in my car, and rode around until I came to terms with the fact that for the first time in my life, I was in love.
Now, in my car, as Angela reached over and hit the scan button on my radio, I glanced at her, and said, “Uh-uh. Driver is the DJ. Stop messing with the radio, Angie.”
She smirked. “What are you gonna do if I don’t? Spank me?”
“Yeah. Hard, too.”
She reached over and hit the seek button.
“Your freaky ass wants me to spank you, don’t you?”
She shrugged.
