I open the door and Ryan runs his eyes down my body. I can see the appreciation over the low cut of the dress and the way you can just barely see the inside curve of my breasts. He looks back up and says, "Those pigtails are hot."
He steps in and pulls me to him hard and kisses the breath right out of me. His hips flex into mine and his desire is evident.
I have two choices. With a mere suggestion I'm sure I can get Ryan to take me into my room and make love to me, or I can do something I have been thinking about all day. I decide to go with the latter.
I break away from Ryan's kiss and start working the button to his jeans.
"What are you doing?" he asks in a sexy, growling way.
"Something I've been fantasizing about all day."
I hear his sharp intake of breath and I know he knows what I want to do. I finish undoing his pants and pull them down over his hips, dropping to my knees at the same time.
Ryan's hands lightly grip the side of my head but he is uncertain when he says, "Danny...are you sure?"
I don't answer but show him what I want to do. Ryan's breath hisses through his teeth and he bucks against my mouth, holding my head tight. "Fuck, Danny...please don't stop."
I have no intention of stopping, especially when I see how he completely and utterly unravels in front of me. I'm apparently pretty good at this because Ryan doesn't last long, shouting my name as he releases into me.
Hmmm...that might take some getting used to, but everything up until that point was mind blowing. I'm already calculating when I can do this to him again.
Ryan pulls me up by my shoulders and gives me a hard kiss. I know he can taste himself on my lips and I'm shocked beyond reason that he does this. But it also turns me on in a deep, dark way.
Finally pulling away from my kiss, Ryan says, "Let's go before my plans for a picnic get ruined by me taking you to your bedroom and screwing your brains out."
I snicker and hurry down the hall to brush my teeth before we leave.
***
The park Ryan has taken me to is busy. The green fields are dotted with people just like us, taking advantage of a warm Boston day. We are able to find a spot that is away from the hustle and bustle of the numerous flag football and Frisbee games going on.
Ryan and I are laying side by side on a blanket. The only place we are touching is our pinky fingers which are hooked around each other. The sun is warm and bright. I'm full from our lunch and I feel lazy and in love. It's a wonderful combination and I highly recommend it.
Rolling over to my side, I put my head on my hand and look at Ryan. Running my fingertips along his jaw, his lips curve into a smile and he opens his eyes. He turns to his side, resting his head on his bicep and just stares at me.
"Tell me more about your family. You're unusually quiet about them," I say.
Ryan grabs my fingers that are skimming his face and kisses the tips. "What do you want to know?"
"Just...everything. Tell me what you want me to know."
He looks at me earnestly. "I want you to know everything about me."
I lean over and kiss his jaw. "So spill."
Ryan chuckles. "Well, I don't have the type of relationship with my parents that you had with yours. It's cold...almost sterile. There wasn't a lot of love or hugs in my household." He pauses a second. "I think that's why I love touching you so much."
My heart squeezes painfully thinking of the boy that didn't have hugs. I vow to myself that I will hug him every day for the rest of my life.
"Do you have any siblings?"
Ryan nods. "My younger sister, Emily. She's a senior in high school here in Boston."
"What's she like?" I'm thinking we can have girlfriend/sister shopping and lunch dates.
"She's a lot like Angeline. Spoiled, bratty, entitled. We aren't very close. My mother has had more of an influence on her than anyone."
Okay. I'll mark the girlfriend/sister lunch dates off my list.
I scoot over close to Ryan and lay my head on his chest, wrapping my arm around his waist. "I'm sorry you don't know what it's like to have a loving family. That must have been tough."
He shrugs his shoulders. "I guess. I'm close to my uncle...the one I told you played in the NHL. He's one that comes to all my games. He's the one that calls me to see how school is going."
"I'd like to meet him sometime," I murmur.
Ryan squeezes me. "I can't wait for him to meet you. He's going to adore you."
"Do you think I'll meet your parents anytime soon. I mean, you've met mine...Paula and Sarge that is."
Ryan releases me and pushes me back a little so I can see his face. He rubs his thumb over my cheekbone and has a sad look on his face. "Danny...my parents wouldn't like you. I am so ashamed to say that they will judge you because you look different than them and you don't come from money. They won't even bother trying to look at all of the amazing things that I see in you. And I'm so sorry for that because they'll never know what a fantastically amazing woman you are."
Ryan's words hurt me, not because of what they would think about me, but because they don't have the ability to care enough for their son the way parents should. I hate that his parents are so rigid in their ideals of what constitutes the right girlfriend for their son, that they would sacrifice his happiness.
"You deserve better than that, Ry."
"Ry? I like that." He kisses me softly then sits up on the blanket. He looks nervous and I sit up opposite of him, cocking my head slightly.
"I need a favor. I would like you to do something for me."
I smile indulgently at him. "Anything for you."
Ryan turns his back on me to reach into the gear bag he brought. He had our lunch packed in there along with a bottle of wine that we drank a few hours ago. I can't see what he's doing but when he pulls back from the bag and turns to me, my breath freezes in my lungs.
Held in his hands is a violin case. "Will you play for me?"
I look at him and his eyes are wary because he knows I would not want him buying anything for me. I clasp my hands in my lap and look down at them. The tears are filling up in my eyes and yet my fingers itch to take the instrument.
"Before you say no, Danny, please know that I need to give this to you. I need you to b
e complete and you can't be until you have music back in your life."
Oh, how those words affect me. Ryan is trying to make my life complete. What have I done to deserve that from him? I look up to him and a single tear falls down my cheek. He reaches out and wipes it away.
"Please let me do this for you," he begs.
I reach out and my hands are shaking as I take the case from him. I lay it gently on the blanket and pop the clasps to open it. Inside is a gleaming Bazzini violin. I rub my fingers lightly over the wood and look back at him.
"Thank you," I whisper. "It's beautiful."
"Play it for me," he demands softly.
Lifting the violin out of the case, I take measure of its size and weight. It feels strange in my hands and I feel an overwhelming sense of grief over the violin that I had sold a few months ago to help pay for my mom's medical expenses. I had had it since I was eleven years old and it was like losing an old friend.
I look into the case and there is a small pitch pipe. I pick it up and blow on the A note. I pluck the corresponding string on the violin and it rings true. I do each of the successive strings, only having to make a small tweak to each tuner.
Glancing at Ryan I see he is watching me intently. He gives me an encouraging smile.
I pick up the instrument and tuck it under my chin. I tighten the bow, draw it over the rosin and quickly run through the scales in each key. I'm rusty and awkward but I don't care. The simple notes coming out are beautiful in a way that only a music lover would appreciate.
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and I start playing Mozart's Violin Concerto No. 5 in A. The music is ingrained in me and the notes come out smoother and cleaner with every second that passes. I immerse myself in the sound, in the vibrations running through my hand, in the way the strings are cutting into my fingers because I've lost my callouses from lack of play. My heart swells with the music and I can feel tears leaking out of my eyes, but I keep playing. I don't want to stop, ever again.
After what could be minutes or hours, awareness of the outside world sweeps back in as I play out the last, long notes of the piece. I inhale shakily and let it come out slowly. And then I hear loud applause and my eyes spring open. Several people have gathered nearby and were listening to me play. I give them a small smile and then turn to look at Ryan.