“No money, mostly. And I wasn’t the best student. My teachers were always writing that I had potential, but I didn’t know how to apply myself.” He put air quotes around “potential” and “apply myself.”
“Ouch. I always got told I was too bossy. Which just pissed me off even more. Because you’d never say that to a male student, would you? Sexist assholes.” We were bringing up a lot of childhood memories I’d rather forget, but we were back to the apartment, so I was glad for the change of subject as we walked up the steps.
Ryder kept my hand in his as we rode the elevator then walked to my door. He had to let go so I could get my keys out, and I missed his large hand holding mine. I’d never been one for a whole lot of PDA. It seemed just like an effort to shove your relationship status in someone else’s face. Now though . . . I wouldn’t mind holding his hand for the rest of my life.
He’d put the box in his bag when we walked back, so he went to the couch, sat down, and pulled it out. I’d wrapped it with a green ribbon I had laying around.
“Should I be worried?” he asked as he held one end of the ribbon to pull the bow apart.
“Nothing is going to jump out and eat you, if that’s what you’re worried about. And it’s not a bomb.”
His eyes went wide at the mention of a bomb, and he slowly lifted the box to his ear and listened to it.
“Oh please,” I said, rolling my eyes. Now I was impatient for him to open it.
“Okay, okay. But if this blows up in my face, it’s going to make it really hard to keep loving you.” Despite his silly reservations, he pulled the ribbon on the box and opened it. I realized I probably had to do a little explaining.
“Every time you wrote me a letter, I wrote you one back. It was my way of dealing with missing you at night when I was here alone. And sometimes I’d think of things I wanted to tell you during work, so those are in there as well. I wrote on whatever was handy.
Carefully, he took the enormous stack of papers out of the box. I’d organized them in chronological order, with the most recent on the bottom.
“You wrote me every day?” he asked, picking up the first letter.
“Yeah. You did, so it was only fair. And it gave me something to do.” He unclipped my letter from the top, and I watched as he started reading.
I sat back and waited as he read the first letter in complete silence, except for his lips moving just a little, as if he was reading to himself. Every now and then he’d smile at something I hoped he though was funny. I hadn’t tried to be witty or anything in the letters, I’d just written them in a stream of consciousness, not worrying about what I was saying. Thinking back, I’d probably put some dumb things in there, but oh well. Too late now.
He finished the first letter and went right to the second. Was he going to read every single one? If so, it was going to be a long night. I’d gotten a bit long-winded in some of them and taken up several sheets, front and back. Not to mention the various bits of things I’d written on other pieces of paper.
It was also a little strange to watch him read them, so I got up, hoping he wouldn’t notice. I thought he didn’t, but then he spoke.
“You don’t have to leave, but I’m not leaving until I’ve read every single one. Then we’re going to fuck.”
I crashed into my dining table.
“Ouch!” I yelled, grabbing at my leg that was definitely going to have a bruise.
Ryder finally looked up from the letters. “You okay?”
“Uh, yeah, but what did you say?” I needed to hear it again.
“I said that I’m going to read all the letters and then we’re going to fuck. Unless you don’t want to?” His eyebrows drew together as if the idea that I wouldn’t want to concerned him.
“I just . . . you . . . what?” Words deserted me. I was so used to Ryder being blunt, but this time I knew he absolutely, one hundred percent, meant it. Like if I said yes, he’d jump over the back of the couch and fuck me right where I stood. I couldn’t help the wave of desire that washed over me thinking about it.
Yes, I’d thought about what would happen when Ryder came home, and that did cross my mind. More than once. More than a hundred times. We’d barely kissed, but yeah, I’d imagined what he would be like in bed. Ferocious. Attentive. Relentless. And I bet he’d cuddle the shit out of me afterwards. He looked like a good cuddler.
“Sloane?” I’d drifted off, and his voice snapped me back to the present moment, my throbbing leg and his demand-slash-proposition.
“Okay,” I said, sounding totally eager. Like he’d just offered me a lovely chocolate cake.
“Okay to the sex?” He really appeared to need my confirmation.
I nodded. We’d both gotten tested after that night and had come out clean, and I knew he hadn’t been with anyone else, so we were good. Better than good.
He grinned like I’d just given him a cake.
“See you in a little while then.” And with that he went back to the letters and I slumped against the table, trying to figure out how I could possibly wait until he’d read all those damn letters. I wanted him. Right. Now.