Page 15

William

I assumed things would be weird between us after that. At the very least, I believed Ryan would avoid me for the rest of the day. But when I entered the living room that afternoon, he was there, idly plucking his violin strings while gazing at the dark clouds in the sky.

“Hey,” I whispered, my voice unrecognizable from sleep. He hadn’t startled, which meant he’d heard my approach. He took a deep breath before he faced me.

We watched each other from across the vast space, his intense disposition and the dismal weather setting the tone in the room. It felt like we were balancing on a knife’s edge.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “Are we okay?”

He didn’t so much as blink an affirmative.

“Do you regret what happened?” I decided not to skirt around what took place in the studio. We hadn’t kissed, we’d barely even touched, but it was the most intimate and vulnerable I’d ever felt with anyone. The sweet, dark scent of him stalked me in my dreams. Even now, I could feel the baby soft texture of his curls on my fingertips.

“I don’t regret it,” I added, choosing to be brave. “But I’m worried that I hurt or triggered you, maybe?” Although he’d initiated it, my nearness hadn’t come without sacrifice on his part. The caress of my nose along his skin had been wordlessly asked for, but I couldn’t deny the erotic element of the act. It had affected him.

The image of his hard length pushing toward mine filled my head until I ordered it away. Still, with all he’d been through, I couldn’t help wondering if I’d caused him more mental harm. I thought about the scars on his body, then some of the words he’d shouted at me on paper.

Burned!

Slave!

Cut!

Broken!

“You have to communicate how you feel, or felt, about it. You can’t leave me guessing. Not about this.” I scanned the coffee table, and then the kitchen behind me for a notepad. I’d purchased too many for one to not be laying around. I spotted one on the counter near the stove, and thought about getting it, but then I’d have to take it to him. I didn’t want to get too close until I knew it was okay to.

“Damn it, Ryan. Nod, or shake your head, or cut a hand through the air… Something . Just let me know you’re okay.”

The muscles in his jaw ticked. He looked so pale in the sunless room. A marble statue under a mass of inky hair. The fitted tank he wore covered the roadmap of horrors along his chest, but it exposed his broad shoulders and the supple flesh I’d had the pleasure of scenting. The loose jeans had holes at the knees, and his toes peeked out from the baggy hemline. Ryan was tempting, even now, and I felt horrible for noticing at a time like this.

Circling the couch, I flopped onto it, sinking into the pillows and scrubbing my hands over the scruff on my face. I needed a strong cup of coffee. “What are we doing here?” I whispered to myself, throwing an arm over my eyes. I couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t take how my feelings were changing and deepening when he could never be mine, when making him mine shouldn’t be the goal. It confused the hell out of me. I had a hard time remembering why I’d brought him here to begin with, because my reasons for keeping him here were less clear than they were before.

Damn Xavier for forcing me to see the truth. I felt selfish. Maybe I’d always been.

I’d slept in shorts, so the sudden brush of denim against my bare shins gave me goosebumps.

Lowering my arm to the cushion, I opened my eyes to find Ryan standing above me. I didn’t blink. Couldn’t stop my heart from racing and tripping over itself, because all my energy went into remembering how to breathe.

Ryan sank onto the coffee table, setting his violin beside him. I wanted to sit up. I wanted to inch forward until my knees touched his, but I couldn’t run the risk of pushing him away.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he maintained eye contact with me. Lifting a hand up, Ryan tugged the strap of his tank off his shoulder. The movement slow, adding a sensuality to it, the tight fabric made a tearing sound as it stretched.

I dug my fingers into the cushions to keep them off of him, waiting for his next move.

Ryan chewed on his lip for a moment, then sighed before lifting his chin. The move elongated his neck, and he watched me with full autonomy from below his lashes. He was terrified, but he wanted this. That makes two of us.

Choosing a position of submission, I slid to my knees in front of him, securing my hands behind my back. “You’re in control,” I whispered, leaning into what I knew would forever be my favorite part of him. The place my rebellious heart tried to convince me could be mine. My mind kept me in check, though. He can never be yours.

Like earlier, I breathed him in, running the tip of my nose over his shoulder—now shaped by muscle. I moved higher in a lazy, zig-zag motion, not wanting to neglect even one pore. I wanted to experience every inch of supple skin perfumed by cocoa butter soap and an aroma belonging only to him.

Ryan shuddered when I reached the space between his collarbone and jaw. My lips felt like they’d go up in flames as they coasted over the quivering vein in his neck. I placed a ghost of a kiss to the lump at his throat, feeling his swallow.

I straightened, not wanting to push my luck. Every part of him trembled, even his curls, and his lips were swollen from all the nibbling on it he’d done. I’d never seen his cheeks so red before, or his pupils so blown.

Bliss radiated within me, spreading through all the decrepit places, bringing them to life in its wake. I couldn’t show any of it on the outside, though. The sadness of that almost threatened to reverse the healing made to my soul. I dropped to my haunches, turning away.

Ryan’s finger met the corner of my chin, pulling a hitched breath from me. He brought my gaze around to his, tilting his head, looking into me. He must have found what he’d been probing for—what I’d tried to keep locked down—because after glancing down at his shaking hands, he brought both index fingers to the corners of my mouth and lifted them into a smile.

He removed his fingers with caution, like he thought the smile would slip without his support. It didn’t slip, it’d been begging for too long to be set free, begging to be seen. “Can I?” I showed him my two fingers and gestured toward his lips.

Ryan shook his head. But then he smiled on his own. No show of teeth, just a small, timid life of his lips.

My own smile fell, and I gripped the edge of the coffee table to stop myself from falling over. “You… You have dimples,” I breathed, eyes so wide they hurt. Ryan bit his lip and blushed. “You have dimples ,” I repeated. “They’re beautiful.”

He tucked his hair behind his ears before checking on his violin.

“H-how about a movie?” I asked, sensing this part of our afternoon nearing its end and not wanting him to disappear. I eased onto the couch.

Ryan shook his head no, shoving the violin at my chest, scowling. I chuckled, and he seemed okay with that too.

“ After a lesson,” I amended. Ryan could have whatever he wanted. He’d returned my smile to me. From then on we included violin lessons into our daily routine. We now had a jam packed schedule with no room for anything or anyone else. I went to bed every night afterward with one thought on my mind. I could survive like this.

Of course, life would have other plans for us.

“That was my mother.” I entered the kitchen and slid my phone onto the counter. Ryan was busy making omelets and breakfast potatoes. We’d started watching cooking shows at night. He seemed interested in this particular recipe and nailed it on the first attempt. “She said to tell you she hasn’t stopped worrying about you.”

Ryan flashed his little smile again. I’d seen it a few times since its first appearance. It never ceased to floor me.

“Ugh,” I groaned, screwing up my face and pulling my sweaty shirt away from my body. “I should at least change this.” After a run, we normally showered before we ate. Ryan’s fascination with the fall leaves overtaking the sidewalk delayed our return, so we were ravenous.

He’d picked his way through a pile of them in search of the perfect one to sketch. He’d studied the shape, color, and veins of it with a critical eye, paying attention to every detail. It felt safe to assume fall was his favorite season.

I changed my shirt, then got everything set up on the island. We settled in, scarfing down our food while I stole glances at him, pondering when would be the right time to bring up the fundraising gala. Other than our morning runs—when the streets were clear of people and traffic—we hadn’t ventured out to do anything else. Ryan preferred an isolated existence. If I were being honest, so did I. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d brought up Safe Haven.

Skipping the gala wasn’t an option, though. It might not have seemed like it lately, but my foundation meant everything to me. The black-tie charity event provided an opportunity to raise more funds and awareness for the cause, and to catch up with those we’d helped—and those we were still aiding. It was a way of saying thank you to all involved in the success of Freedom Fighters. I wanted Ryan there.

After a while, Ryan dropped his fork and gave me an “out with it” expression.

“The Freedom Fighters charity gala is in two weeks. I’d like you to attend it with me.”

Ryan leaned back on his stool, I could already see him preparing to tell me no.

“My mother will be there. And Davidson. He works the gala every year, handling the security. No one gets in unless they’re on the list, and there will be places you can disappear to if you feel overwhelmed and need a moment to yourself. We call them serenity rooms. Or you can stay with me,” I rushed to say when he frowned. “I’ll need to mingle a bit, but I’m not the primary focus of the night, so I won’t be too preoccupied. It’s important. It’s how we’re able to help so many people like yourself. It’ll be good to get out, and—”

He made a stop motion with his hands, and I quieted. He lowered them once satisfied with my silence.

His lips thinned, then relaxed, then thinned again before he motioned toward his body, still clad in his sweaty running clothes.

“There’s time to get you a tux.” I kept my excitement from my tone. “I’ll take your measurements.” It would’ve been best for my tailor to take them for accuracy, but Ryan wouldn’t let anyone touch him. I wasn’t even sure he’d let me take them. Aside from baring his throat to me on occasion, as though attempting to build up his tolerance for physical contact, we didn’t lay a hand on each other. He didn’t even sneak into my bed while I slept anymore. “We’ll make it work,” I promised.

He considered me for an excruciating minute before going back to his food, stopping every now and then to add something to his sketch-in-progress. I did the same, eating and bouncing my knee under the island until I thought I might crack from the angst.

Eventually, Ryan flipped the page on his sketchbook, writing something out before pushing it my way.

Yes.

“Yes?” I asked. “Yes?” This time I let the excitement break free, and Ryan rolled his eyes. “Yes!” I whooped, leaning over the island to cup his face between my hands. I planted a quick kiss on his mouth, recoiling once I realized what I’d done. My stool rocked back, and I clung to the island to keep from falling with it.

Ryan gritted his teeth, the vein in his forehead bulging.

“I-I’m sorry,” I spluttered. “Ryan… I didn’t mean to—”

He closed his eyes and unclenched a fist, holding a finger up to halt my incoming onslaught of words. Splaying his palms on the island, he tapped each finger until he got to ten, then repeated the process.

Opening his eyes, he picked up his fork and started eating as if nothing had happened. He didn’t storm off, not to be seen for days. Didn’t shrink in on himself, or glare at me either. After having enough of me staring at him dumbfounded, he jabbed his fork toward my plate, telling me to eat.

In a daze, I righted my stool, licking my lips and finding it hard to feel bad about having the taste of him on me. I kept my mouth shut after that, knowing when he needed a moment to even himself out again.

When we were done, he scooped up our empty plates, depositing them into the sink before going to his room. Blowing out a breath, I gave my heart time to come down from the shock before heading for the shower.

Balancing happiness with regret proved to be difficult, like enjoying the beauty of a rose in your hand and feeling the pain of the thorns. Ryan agreed to go to the gala, but I’d screwed up in a big way by kissing him. I didn’t know whether to smile as I scrubbed myself clean, or stop and listen to the voices telling me how stupid I was. You’re sinking , they said. You have no business trying to keep anyone else from drowning.

I’d just stepped out of the shower, facing the mirror and tightening the towel around my hips when the sound of a hiss behind me sent dread slicing through my body.

“Fuck, Ryan!” I shouted, whirling on him. “You can’t just barge in here without knocking first!”

I realized too late he could still see my back through the mirror. Bile rose up my throat. I slammed the door on his baffled expression, pressing my forehead to it as I battled to keep my anger contained.

Peering at the damaging mural Ryan had gotten a perfect view of, my blood chilled and bone deep worry set in. I couldn’t face him. I couldn’t face myself, so I avoided him for the remainder of the afternoon, eating and taking meetings regarding the foundation in my room.

I half expected him to be long gone when I emerged from my room, or have a dozen or more questions. The city had gone dark by then, and Ryan sat on the living room floor, propped up against the window admiring his violin. I loved the way he cherished it. Made me think if I was ever lucky enough to have him, maybe he’d cherish me in the same way.

I’d never have him, though. Not when I reacted in such an abysmal way to him seeing the most damning thing about me. Not when I stood there too afraid to explain myself, too afraid of his reaction to my explanation. To his rejection of it.

He pointed toward the kitchen, lit only by the stove’s overhead lamp. The oven was set to warm, the scent of pasta breaking through the fog in my head.

“You cooked for me?” I whispered. “After how I treated you?”

He shrugged a shoulder, shuffling over to the coffee table for his bow before sitting on the arm of the couch to practice. It was odd. He behaved as though the incident never happened or he’d forgotten about it. But it had happened, and he hadn’t forgotten. He just seemed over it.

Otherwise he’d be asleep, or alone in his room, or taking over the library with his notepads and books. He wouldn’t be out here babysitting the dinner he’d prepared for me. His rapt attention on his instrument was an act. He’d waited up worrying about me like my mother often did when I’d lived at home.

“Thank you,” I said, hoping he also heard the apology in my tone. He paused mid note but didn’t look up at me, then continued to draw the bow over the strings.

My stomach cramped as soon as the first bite of food hit it. As much as I wanted to eat, my anxiety made the task near impossible. My lunch from earlier was still on my nightstand.

If I forced myself to eat now, I’d likely spend the next few hours bent over the toilet. I placed the leftovers in the refrigerator, then leaned against it to listen to Ryan play a little longer before making my way back to bed.

Moonlight poured in from the balcony, illuminating the spot on the wall I’d been staring at between meetings all day. A light knock sounded on my bedroom door, forcing me upright. “Come in.”

Ryan closed the door behind him before resting against it. I could smell his soap and shampoo from the bed, and the ribbed pajamas he now sported clung to him.

“You knocked,” I whispered, wavering between remaining calm or destroying everything in my vicinity. He shouldn’t have to knock. Not with me. I wish I didn’t need him to, but there were too many scars, triggers, and landmines still unaddressed. I’d need to tackle those first. I needed to find the courage to be totally honest with him. Not tonight, though. Tonight I wasn’t brave enough to do it.

He pushed off the door, taking baby steps toward the bed. His lips moved as he counted, the way my mother taught him to do when feeling anxious. Once he got to the foot of the bed he waited, maybe for me to make the next move. My heart began to race as I pulled the covers back.

Ryan rolled his shoulders, clenching and unclenching his hands.

The mattress dipped as he sank one knee into it before crawling over to the unoccupied spot. We situated ourselves on our sides, hands tucked under our cheeks as we gazed at one another, still a good distance away.

As the minutes ticked by he drew closer, until we shared the same air, exchanging panicked breaths. Soon the apprehension faded, and intoxication set in.

Ryan’s gaze traveled from my eyes to my parted mouth and back. I sank my fingers into my pillow to keep from shoving them into his hair. We nudged our heads forward at the same time, reducing the space between our lips.

“If you want this,” I breathed in a husky tone, “you’ll have to be the one to take it.” I couldn’t afford to get it wrong again. He’d need to make the final move.

We both clutched at our pillows now, bodies ram-rod straight and untouching.

Ryan licked his lips, the tip of his tongue accidentally brushing my mouth, pulling a strangled moan from me.

“Ryan,” I groaned. I’d never been this turned on by a moment so pure in all my life. I’d had sex on private planes, been fucked on the deck of a yacht in broad daylight, and had threesomes with foreign delegates. But none of that compared to having Ryan—my beautiful, broken counterpart—in my bed, not laying a hand on me, yet touching me in ways no one ever had.

I could barely see through the haze of anticipation. I felt fulfilled and his lips hadn’t even brushed mine. Satisfied, and my cock hadn’t even spilled a drop. The rush of excitement, fear and lust made me dizzy. But the best part of it all, was the feeling flooding my heart.

“I don’t need more,” I breathed. “This is enough. You are enough.”

My words lit a fire in Ryan’s eyes. He breached the miniscule gap, covering my mouth with his. I let out a low whimper that should have embarrassed me, but I couldn’t think past my shock to focus on that.

Neither of us moved, other than to continue strangling the pillows clamped between our hands. It was a soft press of our lips, barely any pressure at all, but I felt it in every corner of my mind and body.

Ryan pushed a little harder until my lips were pressed against my teeth. Our eyes were open.

Tentatively, he parted his mouth, and I followed his lead, allowing his shy tongue in. We groaned in unison, Ryan’s grip moving to his shirt collar, as my toes curled beneath the blanket.

He tasted minty, and my gums tingled in the wake of his tongue’s exploration. I grew hot as he became greedy, and I ripped the duvet away as his back arched, body leaning forward instead of away.

Our legs writhed as the kiss deepened, our breathing escalating to dangerous heights. Abruptly, Ryan pulled away, my lips puckering in chase of his. He rolled to his back, staring up at the ceiling. I followed, willing the fire spreading through my body to recede.

“Will you stay?” I whispered after a while. With the moment now cooling, remnants of what I’d been feeling before he knocked on my door started to creep back into my mind. I felt raw, and I needed him. From the corner of my eye I saw him nod.

“Thank you.” I shifted to my side, facing away from him, tracing my kiss-warmed lips.

My hopes were low for getting any sleep, but with him there with me it didn’t matter. Maybe he sensed my turmoil, or perhaps he was dealing with his own, but I could’ve wept when he inched closer.

I sighed, wondering if he knew how much it meant to me right then to have his back up against mine. To have his bones up against mine.