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“Not yet,” he said, standing in front of me. He leaned down to kiss me again. “I promise we’ll be quiet.”
“Ryan we can’t,” I said, trying to shuffle him out. But he was a bulk of a man. He barely budged.
“Why not? You want me…” he said and pulled my hand to his groin, “and I clearly want you.”
I groaned. “I won’t deny that I want you. But there can be nothing more between us,” I said. All the legitimate reasons flashed through my mind, not just my insecurities. My father worked for his company. My criminal past, and my present living conditions, it all couldn’t work.
He grabbed a handful of my bare left cheek from underneath my dress and pulled me up against him.
“What if I didn’t ask for more? What if I just asked for this?” he whispered, lust deepening his voice. My clit throbbed against the seam of his pants.
Traitorous wrench!
“What do you mean?” I groaned, stalling. Loving the feel of him holding me intimately.
“What if it’s just sex? No strings attached. No relationship. Nothing else but a fucking good time. What’s wrong with that?”
Nothing.
Could I just sleep with Ryan, get my fill of him, and move on? Surely he could do that, especially since he suggested it. If we both went into this with no expectations, no one would get hurt.
There was no denying the chemistry between us. I could be a mature woman and receive the pleasure I wanted and not have to be in a relationship. Get in. Get out. Men did it all the time.
Fuck it.
“Yes,” I said, and pulled his head down to mine. I bit his bottom lip. His hand landed on my neck and he pressed his body against mine, my back hitting the door.
“Tomorrow night. My place. Wear the red dress again.”
I nodded, but barely, his body pressed me tightly against the wooden door. The handle pushed against my side. Despite the discomfort, I didn’t move an inch.
He bent his head and kissed me one more time, then walked out of my bathroom, taking all the air with him.
I slid down the wall with my eyes closed. Sitting on the cold bathroom tile, I waited for my heart to stop racing.
9
Laura
The next day was Sunday and I wasn’t sure if Ryan knew it was my day off or if it was just a coincidence. I imagined it was the latter.
I’d planned to wake up late, but my father’s cursing and slamming cabinets drew me out of bed.
“What’s going on?” I asked, standing in the kitchen and rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
“Nothing. Just go back to bed.”
“Well, I can’t now. So, you might as well tell me.”
He sighed and leaned against the cabinets. “They shut off the power. But I’ll take care of it today. Don’t worry about it.”
“The electricity? I don’t understand, didn’t you pay the bill? Or did you forget?”
“No, I didn’t forget,” he said, crossing his arms. “But money’s been tight around here lately, that’s all.”
Looking around our home, I regarded the second-hand furniture we’d had for as long as I remembered. There were no new appliances or expenses. “I don’t understand, Dad. Did you lose your job?”
My dad and I had an agreement. He would pay the mortgage and bills and I would take care of the groceries, my textbooks, and anything my scholarship did not cover for school. Nothing had changed in three years.
