He stood, smiling at me. “If you insist.”
“I do.”
I watched as he took his clothes off, having a hard time not jumping him so I could run my hands and lips over every inch of him.
“There is one thing you should wear,” he said, as he got on one knee again. He held up the ring. “Will you marry me, Kellie?”
“Yes. Ryan, I love you so much. I can’t wait to be your wife.”
He slid the ring on my finger and stood. He kissed me, soft and sweet, I swore I could taste his love for me. I made a vow to never mess this up again. I’d always be honest and forthcoming.
He guided me to the bed, and lay me back. “You’re so beautiful, Kellie.” The way his eyes were filled with awe as he looked at me made me feel like I was the only woman in the world.
He lay over me, pressing me into the mattress. I sighed at the feel of his flesh against mine. He caressed and kissed me slowly, like he was rediscovering my body. I touched him back, reacquainting myself with the long hard lines of his body.
“I need you,” I said, when I couldn’t take any more of the foreplay.
“I’m right here, baby. I’ll always be right here.”
His words brought tears to my eyes. It was an awe-filling experience to feel so loved and cherished. He settled his hips between my thighs.
?
?Look at me, Kellie.”
I opened my eyes, staring into his deep blue gaze as he pressed inside me. I held him close as his body joined mine, and the last remnant of the pain and emptiness I’d felt when he was gone finally dissipated.
“I love you, Ryan.” I wrapped my legs around him, holding him to me with the goal of never letting go.
“You’re my world, Kellie. My whole fucking world.”
33
Ryan
After talking with my grandmother earlier today, I went to my father’s house. He’d gone surfing that morning and was now having a smoothie on his terrace. My father was still handsome and fit. I was sure women threw themselves at him even now. I didn’t know if he ever enjoyed the comforts of a woman’s body, but I knew he never loved another one after my mother. As good looking as he was, his eyes held a look of sadness from the day my mother died and never left. I recognized that look when I looked at myself in the mirror the day I broke things off with Kellie.
“Ryan, how are you?” my father said as I joined him on the terrace.
“Good.” Then I remembered that I felt like shit. “Actually, not well.”
“Oh?” My father put his newspaper aside, and focused all his attention on me. I took a moment to study him. When my mother died, he’d given up just about everything to raise me and my brothers. He was a wonderful dad. Guilt lanced in my gut that I was a terrible father. In learning I was going to have a child; I’d rejected its mother.
“I…ah…I’m in love with someone…but then I fucked it up.” I sat in a chair across from him.
“How?”
I looked out over the ocean for a moment as I gathered my thoughts. “She failed to tell me something important and I broke it off.”
“Deception isn’t good in a relationship.”
“She had reasons to be concerned about telling me. She was sorry but I couldn’t forgive her.”
My father nodded. “Forgiveness is difficult, but necessary. But it’s not like you to not forgive. Was there something else?”
I looked down, running a finger over the pattern on the tiled table top. “What if something happens and I lose her?”
When my father didn’t say anything, I looked over at him. “You’re afraid you’ll live in despair for the rest of your life like me?”