Stripped From You: (Stripped Duet #1) Read online

  It’s time to go. Right now. It’s time to fucking go, right now, with “fuck” being the operative word.

  The ride starts to come to an end, slowing as it makes one last revolution. I withdraw my finger from Alana and glance around discreetly to see if anyone noticed our little erotic show.

  It seems we got away with our secret foreplay.

  When the carousel horse finally stops, I take Alana by the waist and slowly slip her off the saddle, sliding her down into my arms. She looks sexy as hell with her tousled hair, flushed cheeks, and lusty brown eyes.

  “That wasn’t very nice,” she breathes heavily.

  “Trust me, you won’t be thinking that later.” When I have you screaming my name. I brush my lips against hers, battling the God almighty urge that is creeping over my body. With Alana trapped between me and the horse, I drop my head and kiss her again. Hard and unapologetic this time; the sexual tension explodes around us like mortar rounds on the front line.

  When we finally break apart — the only reason being we need oxygen to survive — I’m left crazed and thirsty and starving for more.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Alana asks with labored breaths.

  “Like what?”

  “Like you want to devour me?”

  “Because I do. I am. Tonight. All night. Until there’s nothing left of the two of us except an exhausted, hot mess. I’d do it right here, right now, if you’d let me.” I press my body harder against hers, the rapid, burning need scorching my insides.

  “Ryan.” Alana grabs my T-shirt urgently in her fists. “You really need to know—”

  “Know what?” I devour her again, unable to control myself.

  Alana severs our kiss. “Ryan,” she repeats more sternly, gaining my full attention. “I’m a virgin.”

  It feels like I’ve just been drowned in ice water.

  “What do you mean, you’re a virgin?”

  “Virgin. Someone who has never had sexual intercourse,” she rattles off the definition. She does that sometimes. She’s like a pretty dictionary geek.

  “I know what a virgin is, Alana.” I step back and give her some breathing room. I think I need some myself.

  “Is that a problem?” she gnaws on her lip.

  Before I can answer, the ride operator is chasing us off the carousel.

  I grab her hand and lead her off the ride and out toward the parking lot without a word.

  A virgin?

  A virgin.

  How did I not know this? How did this topic never come up? Oh, right, I remember. I was so busy walking on eggshells, I never thought the opportunity for sex would present itself because she was so hell bent on casual, and I was so hell bent on holding on to her any way I could. But here we are, inching out on the ledge of sleeping together, and she drops a bomb like that. She’s a VIRGIN. Fuck.

  “Ryan, please say something.” Alana pulls on my hand, and I stop walking.

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Does this change things?”

  “With us? No. With us having sex, yes.”

  “Why?” Her voice pitches.

  “Why? I don’t know why, it just does.” I run my hands through my hair exasperated.

  “I need a better explanation than that.”

  “Do you really want your first time to be with me?” Insecurity surges.

  “Yes.” She’s all confidence.

  “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  “Say the words.” I demand.

  “What words?”

  “If you don’t know, then you’re not ready to be with me.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “You’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out.”

  “Ryan, I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

  I don’t understand why I’m so upset either. I just am. This changes things. Makes things deeper. Which I have no problem with, but Alana buries her emotions, and if I’m going to go there with her, she has to let me in, entirely. I can’t have it any other way. And I don’t know if she’s ready or even willing to do that. Maybe I’m asking too much, but she’s different. And I’m not going to be the guy she loses it to, just for the sake of losing it.

  “I don’t take sex lightly, Alana. I do it with people I care about. And I’m not about to take your virginity if you’re not—” I stop short.

  “If I’m not what?”

  “Not ready.”

  She cocks an eyebrow at me. “Have I given you any indication I’m not ready?”

  “Only that you’re physically ready.”

  Alana stares at me for a very long time, studying me, scrutinizing me.

  “What is it that you want from me, Ryan?” she finally insists.

  What is it that I want? I want her, all of her. To let me in completely. Emotionally, not just physically. Which I fear is the only way I can have her. And I’m quickly coming to realize, if I can’t have every part of her, I may not want any of her at all. And that thought is devastating.

  She shakes her head, frustrated when I don’t answer. Then she starts walking to the car. She opens the passenger side door, climbs in, then slams it shut. I climb in just a few seconds after her. I watch as she pulls out the pink baseball cap from the plastic and proceeds to tuck her hair up underneath it. She pulls the brim down so low I can’t see her face, then proceeds to just stare out the window. She has officially frozen me out. Which is the exact opposite of what I wanted to happen. With a sigh I start the car and head back to the beach house. What a disaster this night has turned out to be.

  And the only person I have to blame is myself.

  As soon as we pull up to the house, Alana hops out of the car and beelines it straight to the door, not even bothering to wait for me.

  Maaan, I am so fucked.

  I scamper up the stairs behind her trying to catch up when I walk straight into a house party in full swing.

  “Where the hell did all these people come from?” she asks as she stands on the edge of the living room, the hat I just won her gripped tightly in her hand.

  “Mac’s friends. It always gets like this.” Before I can say anything else, the man himself struts up to us. He’s trashed already. His eyes are red, he has that goofy grin on his face, and he stinks like — if I had to guess — Jägermeister. The huge red stain down the front of his shirt also gives away his spirit of choice.

  “I didn’t think you two would make it.” He puts one arm around each of us.

  “What made you think that?” Alana asks.

  “Just thought you’d want some alllooone time.”

  “No such luck,” Alana gripes, crossing her arms.

  Oy.

  “Well,” Mac drawls, catching on to her hostility. “There’s a keg in the living room, Jell-O shots in the kitchen, and hard lemonade in the fridge.”

  “Sounds perfect.” Alana struts off.

  “We’re also playing Spray and Wash,” he shouts quietly.

  “What?” I snap my head at him.

  “Incoming!” Mac bellows just as Alana walks into the kitchen.

  Oh shit. There isn’t even time to warn her, because as soon as she crosses the threshold, there’s an ear-piercing shriek.

  “You’re a dick.” I elbow Mac in the ribs and then storm off after her.

  “You’ll thank me later,” he gloats, doubled over in pain.

  I doubt that.

  As soon as I get into the kitchen, I find Alana standing there frozen. She looks up at me with a shocked expression, drenched in beer. Her hair is soaked, and her white shirt is now completely see-through.

  Fuck.

  Spray and Wash is Mac’s own mad scientist creation. It’s his way of getting girls topless by having them spontaneously sprayed with beer when they least expect it. I guess the kitchen was ground zero tonight.

  I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it; I laugh. Right in her face. My perfect, proper, little Alana got beer bombed, and i
t’s hilarious.

  “You think this is funny?” she fumes.

  “A little,” I admit, with everyone in the room watching us.

  She’s silent as she turns around toward the counter. Before I realize it, she’s spraying me in the face with beer. “Right back at ya,” she cries.

  Fucker!

  I snatch her wrist in an attempt to wrestle the can out of her hand. Alana’s laughing so hard I can’t tell if it’s tears or alcohol running down her face. Finally, I gain control of the situation and have her pinned up against my body.

  She stares up at me devilishly. “Now I stink like beer and need a shower.”

  “Is that an invitation?” I drop my mouth to her ear.

  “I thought you weren’t interested in getting me naked,” she volleys.

  “Baby, I’m interested. I just want to make sure you know it’s not the only thing I’m interested in.”

  She peers up at me timidly, then sweeps her eyes around the room realizing we’re the center of attention.

  “Everyone is staring.”

  “So, what? They’re all jealous.”

  “Of what?”

  “Me.”

  “You? Why?”

  “Because I’m holding the sexiest girl on this island in my arms.”

  “I didn’t realize I was such a hot commodity.”

  “That’s your problem. You don’t realize how amazing you are.”

  “I think the only time you can use amazing in the same sentence with me is when you’re talking about my academics.”

  I sigh, shaking my head at her. “You really have no idea, do you?”

  “None,” she asserts, achingly sincere. Then she slips out of my arms. “I really need a shower.”

  “Okay.” I reluctantly let her go. “I’ll come up and check on you in a few minutes.”

  She nods, tucking some soaked blonde hair behind her ear. Then she walks out of the kitchen with one arm covering her breasts.

  “Dis, bro.” Some guy I don’t know slaps me on the shoulder. I turn and glare at him. If I was drunk, I’d punch him. Instead, I wander to the fridge to grab a beer. How do I ever expect Alana to love me if she can’t love herself? She’s smart, strong, funny, beautiful. Everything any man would want. Everything I want, but her damn emotions are buried under three feet of ice, and I don’t think it’s ever going to thaw.

  “How was your date?” Mac pries with Candy on his arm.

  “Near disastrous.” I pop open the beer bottle before heading for the stairs.

  “Hey, hold up.” Mac follows, climbing after me.

  “What happened?” he genuinely interested as we walk down the hallway and make our way out onto the deck. Both of us plop down on the lounge chairs right outside my room. I can hear the shower running through the wall and smell the faint scent of salt and bubble bath mingling in the air.

  “I’m a fucking idiot. That’s what happened.” I take a big swig of beer.

  “Sounds rough. Want to elaborate? ‘Fucking idiot’ can have multiple meanings.”

  I glance at Mac. His eyes are red, and he’s half in the bag. I wonder if he’ll even remember this conversation in the morning. My bet, probably not.

  “I just think I want more than she’s ready to give.” I admit, and it fucking hurts. Right in the middle of my chest. It’s like an elephant is sitting on me.

  “You think?” Mac questions.

  “I know.” I sigh.

  “You pushed her?”

  “It’s not what you think. I told her in a roundabout way that I’m not going to sleep with her.”

  “What?” Mac nearly falls over in his chair. “You told her no? Why the fuck would you do a thing like that? Have you seen her? You should be doing back flips she even looks at your sorry ass.”

  “She’s a virgin.” I hiss.

  “Oh.” Mac shrinks in his seat. “So, what?”

  “So, that changes things.”

  “For who?” He grabs the beer out of my hand and takes a long pull.

  I roll my eyes. “Me, I guess.”

  “Why?”

  I drop my head back against the wall. “I don’t know.”

  “You’re full of crap, you know. You’re being a pussy. If she wants it, give it to her. She’s a big girl. She can handle it.”

  Pussy? I scowl at Mac. Who asked his opinion anyway?

  “It’s her first time. It should be special and memorable and all that crap that goes along with your first time. She deserves the best.”

  “And that’s not you?”

  I shrug, snatching my beer back. I have no idea if that’s me. If I look at my life, where I come from and what I have, the answer is definitely no.

  “You’re right. That spoiled rich bitch does deserve better.”

  “Hey!” I snap. “She isn’t spoiled and she’s not a bitch. Say that again, and I’ll wipe that dopey, drunk expression right off your fuckin’ face.”

  Mac smiles obnoxiously. It’s loopy and lopsided, but it’s still a smile. “You’re right, she does deserve better. I just have no idea where she’s going to find it.”

  I look over at Mac. Stupid ass. Drunk as a skunk, and still talking his way out of a paper bag.

  I exhale, resigned. “I hear ya, bro. Loud and clear.”

  “You’re such a poor, unfortunate soul.” He leans back lazily in his chair.

  “Why is that?”

  “Because you’ve been cursed with a bleeding heart.”

  “That’s a curse?”

  “For your dick it is.” He grunts.

  I laugh forlornly. He might be onto something there.

  “Shouldn’t you be getting back to Candy?” I drawl. I think I’m done with our little heart to heart. He’s made his point.

  “Probably,” he mumbles without moving.

  “Where the hell did you meet her anyway?”

  “At the club the other night.” He wiggles his eyebrows. He then leans over, the stench of alcohol emanating from his pores. “She gave me head on the ride down here.”

  “What?” I pause just before I bring the beer bottle to my lips. “Where, like at a rest stop?”

  “Nope, like while I was driving.” He is seriously wasted. His face is flushed, his body is loose, and he can’t stop snickering.

  “Well, good for you,” I retort. Because really, how else do you respond to that?

  “You should get Alana to try it. You’ll fall in love, bro.”

  I know that statement is as loose as Candy.

  “I don’t need Alana to give me head to make me fall in love with her. I already am.” I down the last of the beer, trying to extinguish the words that are now burning my tongue. It’s the first time I’ve ever admitted that aloud.

  “Yup,” Mac sighs. “You’ve been hooked on that one since the minute you saw her. My condolences.”

  I punch him in the arm. “I think it’s time you go find Candy.”

  “I think it’s time I go find Candy, too.” He grins deviously. “I have a hankering to make someone’s star-burst.” He licks his lips, and that is just one too many Candy references for me.

  “Go, please. And make sure she’s bursting behind closed doors. I don’t want another repeat of you and the spin cycle.”

  “Oh yeah,” Mac brags dreamily. “Another great place to get head. And hey,” he accuses, “those doors were closed.”

  “The laundry room is a public domain. It doesn’t count.”

  Mac snarls at me. “You really need to get laid. You’re cranky and no fun.”

  “Am not.”

  “Are too, Mister My-favorite-place-to-fuck-is-a-Dunkin-Donuts’-bathroom.”

  “We didn’t have any other place to go,” I defend my actions.

  “Doesn’t matter, still said it was your favorite place.”

  I glare at him. “Are we done here?”

  “I am.”

  “Good. Get lost.”

  “So you can’t go fuck?”

  “You’re
an asshole.”

  “I know.” He smiles then clasps my hand as he stands up. “Don’t worry about your girl. Things will work out,” he assures me as he disappears into the house.

  “Right,” I mutter, dropping my head back against the wall after he’s gone.

  A few moments later, I’m miserably peeling the label off my beer bottle when I notice the shower is off, so I decide to face the inevitable.

  This is definitely not how I pictured this night going.

  I walk into the room to find Alana standing by the bathroom door dressed only in a towel and a bewildered expression on her face.

  “What’s up?” I tentatively amble closer to her.

  “Is that what you wanted to hear?” she asks randomly, tracking my every step.

  “I don’t understand the question,” I reply curiously.

  “You said you loved me.”

  My breath catches, and I stop moving.

  “You overheard my conversation?”

  “It was kind of hard not to with the window wide open.”

  Shit, how did I not notice that?

  “Is it true?” Alana scrutinizes me.

  I chew the inside of my cheek, stalling to answer.

  “Ryan?”

  “Yes?”

  “Is it true?” She presses.

  “Is what true?”

  She pins me with her eyes. No squirming my way out of this one.

  “Yes, I love you,” I confess.

  Alana turns as pale as her hair.; I think she may have even stopped breathing.

  “Are you okay?”

  “You can’t love me,” she suddenly blurts out. “You barely know me.”