Must Be Love: (Nicole and Ryan) (A Jetty Beach Romance Book 1) (19 page)

Ryan grabs the hem of my sweater and pulls it off. With exquisite slowness, he slides my tank top over my head and unfastens my bra. His hands caress my breasts, teasing my nipples with his thumbs. I moan again.

"How do you do this to me?" I ask. He doesn’t even have his pants off and I’m already halfway to an orgasm.

He takes my nipple in his mouth, tasting it with his tongue. His mouth works its way up to my collarbone and back down again while I fumble with his jeans. I plunge my hands into his pants as soon as I get them open, gripping his cock. I slide my fingers up and down, squeezing the shaft.

I pull his cock out and move my panties aside.

"Fuck me, Nicole, that's so hot," he says. "Put it where you want it."

I tease the tip along the outside, up and down, then rub it against my clit. Fresh waves of pleasure roll through me.

"I love the way you make me feel," I say.

He licks my nipples again and I rub his cock against me, stroking up and down the shaft. His mouth works its way up to my neck, his tongue dancing across my skin.

Without warning, he moves my hand away and grips my hips, hard. He drives his cock into me, pushing me up against the window. I cry out, opening my legs wider for him. He holds me up by my ass, working his cock in and out. His cheek is next to mine, his hot breath against my neck. He fucks me with so much urgency, I claw at his back. He moves faster, harder, so deep it hurts. I gasp, suddenly feeling a jolt of fear.

As if he knows, he stops. He holds still, his cock deep inside me, his chest rising and falling fast against mine. His hands hold my ass so hard it hurts, but his grip slowly releases. He moves his head away just enough to face me, so close our noses almost touch.

His voice is raspy and low. "I love you."

My heart lurches. Oh my god, he said it. The fire in his eyes tells me he’s dead serious.

"I love you, too." My voice is breathy, my head spinning. I do love him. More than I've ever loved anyone. Hearing the words spoken aloud feels momentous. I can’t believe this is happening.

Ryan pulls out and thrusts in again, gently this time. His eyes don’t leave mine. He pushes his cock into me, back and forth, settling into an exquisite rhythm. I rock my hips with his movement, feeling the tension build. My mind is a blur. Nothing exists except the two of us. I am utterly his.

We don’t need to say a word, both feeling the first pulses as we climax together. I lean back against the window, my legs wrapped tight around his waist, as ecstasy floods me.

When we both finish, he surrounds me with his arms and holds me close, his face against my neck. I thread my arms around him, enjoying the feel of his skin against mine. We stay there for a long moment, catching our breath.

He pulls away and helps me get my feet on the ground. He watches me as I walk across the studio to his apartment.

I feel so good, but I can’t get over the feeling that there is sadness in his eyes.

***

My heart races, and butterflies seem to have taken up permanent residence in my stomach. Ryan pulls the car into the driveway of a spacious home, right on the beach. It isn't fancy or ostentatious, but I can only imagine what the view must be like from the deck on the roof.

Another car is parked on the street out front. Cody's, perhaps? It sounds like Hunter Evans will be here too. Apparently I’m getting the full Jacobsen family treatment. My hands tremble with nervousness. What if they don't like me? What if they can see in my eyes what their son and I were doing a few hours ago? I smooth down the folds of my dress. Since Ryan didn’t tell me we'd have dinner with his family before I came from Seattle, I only have what I brought with me. Thankfully, I thought to throw a casual lilac dress and a pair of silver sandals in my bag. I showered and blew out my hair, and put on a little makeup before we left, so I feel reasonably put together. But that doesn’t seem to be doing anything for the butterflies, which have progressed from fluttering to outright war.

Ryan opens the car door for me. He's been quiet since we had sex that afternoon. Not the sort of quiet that means he might snap at me for something stupid. It’s a melancholy sort of quiet. All afternoon, he avoided meeting my eyes, and I had to remind him when we needed to leave. He apologized several times, claiming to be tired, but something seems off. The truth is, something has seemed off for weeks, I just can’t pinpoint what it is.

I love you.

The memory of Ryan's words echoes in my mind. I want to bottle that moment—capture it so I can relive it over and over again. He opens the front door and I follow him inside, chewing on my lower lip to keep from smiling too big.

We walk through to the back of the house to find Ryan's family congregated in the spacious kitchen. The conversation dies, and everyone freezes, staring at us with wide eyes.

My smile fades. Why are they staring at me like that?

Ryan puts a reassuring hand on my back. "Hey, everyone. This is Nicole."

Mrs. Jacobsen puts a hand to her chest. Her dark hair is streaked with gray, and she has it swept up in a loose bun. She wears a floral maxi dress and orange cardigan, a chunky necklace at her throat. "Well, for heaven's sake." A smile breaks out across her face and she walks up to me. "Nicole, it is so lovely to meet you. Welcome."

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Jacobsen," I say.

"Please, call me Maureen," she says. "Ryan, why didn't you tell us we were finally getting to meet the mysterious Nicole?"

Mysterious? Wait, he didn’t... I whip around to look at him. "You didn't tell them I was coming?"

He gives me a sheepish grin. "I wanted it to be a surprise." He turns his grin on his mom and she bats at his arm.

"You're lucky you're cute," she says.

"Sorry, Mom," he says and moves in to give her a big hug.

Cody and Hunter both greet me with hugs, and Ryan's father, Ed, introduces himself and shakes my hand.

"Well," Maureen says, clapping her hands together. "This is wonderful. Hunter, will you take another place setting upstairs for me? Boys, help me bring dinner up to the roof. And someone get a bottle of wine. We need to celebrate."

I follow the family upstairs to the roof. It’s absolutely breathtaking. The ocean stretches out as far as the eye can see, sparkling in the evening sun. A large, slatted wood table is set with bright yellow placemats, white plates, and translucent blue glasses. A built-in grill with a stone counter is on one side, and there’s comfortable seating everywhere. I played with Ryan as a kid, but I've never actually been to his house. It’s beautiful.

Ryan pulls out a chair for me at the table and takes his seat next to mine. The others lay out the food: two platters of pasta with meatballs and marinara sauce, a huge garden salad, and three baskets of French bread. There’s so much food, I can’t imagine how we'll eat it all. Everyone takes their seats and Ed pours wine.

"So, Nicole," Maureen says, passing a basket of bread. "How long have you been seeing Ryan?"

"Mom," Ryan says. "At least let her eat first."

"What?" Maureen says. "I just want to know."

"Of course you do, Mom," Cody says. He winked at me. "Tell us, Nicole."

"Hey, Cody, how's Jennifer?" Ryan asks.

Cody glares at him. "Really?"

"You drew first blood," Ryan says.

Hunter chuckles and Ed seems to ignore the chatter, focusing on his plate.

"Well," I say. "I guess it's been a few months now?"

"Ah, how nice," Maureen says. She makes a not-so-subtle eyebrow raise at Cody.

Cody smiles and shakes his head, digging into his meal.

The food is delicious. Ryan eats with one hand on my thigh. It’s distracting, his touch sending tingles through me. His family makes me feel totally at ease. My nervousness melts away as they talk and laugh. Maureen does a lot of the talking, but she’s friendly and sweet. Ryan banters with Cody and Hunter, but I can tell it’s good-natured. I feel a little twinge of envy at his relationship with his brothers—because despite the fact that Hunter isn’t technically a Jacobsen, the three of them act like brothers. I’m an only child, so I've never had a sibling relationship. His family seems to genuinely enjoy being together, joking and having a good time as they eat.

After dessert, a strawberry rhubarb pie that is to die for, I stand against the railing, looking out over the water. The sun has set, but the moon is out, casting its pale light on the water.

Ryan disappeared downstairs, but he comes back up and settles in next to me at the railing. I shiver in the cool breeze, and he wraps his arms around me.

"This was fun," I say. "Your family is really great."

"Yeah," he says. "They are."

"Do you think they like me?" I ask.

"Yes," he says, "they like you a lot."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," he says. "If my mom didn't like you, she wouldn't have fed you pie."

I laugh, leaning against his warm body.

"Thanks for this," he says. "It means a lot to me."

"Of course," I say. "It means a lot that you'd bring me here."

He tightens his arms around me, leaning his cheek on my head. His family is amazing, and it seemed like Ryan enjoyed having me here. But there’s something else, a feeling I can’t put my finger on. Despite the great day, the incredible moments we had, he still seems so sad.

Nicole needs to get to work early on Monday, so she leaves Sunday afternoon. I can tell she’s concerned about me. Despite my assurances that nothing is wrong, her eyes are tight with worry. Although she offers to stay longer, I more or less push her out the door. I don’t want to mess things up at her job. I already feel guilty. For what, I’m not even sure. We had a nice weekend together. My family loved her. She fit right in, talking and laughing like she's been a part of the Jacobsen crew all along. That should lift my spirits, but I spend the rest of the weekend wanting to do nothing more than crawl into bed and stay there.

I made it as far as my couch after Nicole drove away and haven’t moved since. I glance up at the clock. Seven-fifteen. I feel groggy, almost as if I've been sleeping, but I know I haven’t. My bladder protests, so I muster the energy to get up and use the bathroom.

When I come out, the letter on my dresser catches my eye. It’s at the back, a folded sweatshirt covering all but one corner of the white envelope. I put a finger on the edge and slide it out, handling it as if it might burn me.

I’ve kept that letter for well over a year, unopened. I know who it’s from, and I have a good idea of what it says, but I haven't been able to bring myself to read it. Like a fucking idiot, I choose this moment to tear it open.

My eyes scan the words Elise's mother wrote to me. My stomach turns over. Phrases reach out and grab me, hitting me like slaps to the face.
Please don't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault. You did everything you could.

Meaningless. Words anyone could say. She doesn’t know. She wasn’t there.

It was my fault. I failed. Elise is dead, and I wasn’t strong enough to save her.

I toss the letter to the ground and go back to the couch. Emptiness consumes me. There’s a void inside, eating away at everything I am, feeding on any shred of emotion I have left. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter.

***

I spend the week shuffling between my bed and the couch. When Nicole's car pulls up in the driveway, I don’t even know what day it is.

Running a hand through my hair, I get up from the couch. I look down at my shirt and sniff my armpits. Shit, that isn’t good. I smell terrible. When did I last shower? Quickly, I snatch up the garbage from the coffee table and shove it under the sink, then dart for the bathroom. Nicole has a key, and I hear her coming in through the studio when I turn on the shower.

The bathroom door handle turns, rattling back and forth. Apparently I locked it.

Nicole's voice comes through the door. "Hey, why did you lock me out?"

I lean my head back, rinsing off the shampoo. "I'll be out in a minute."

She rattles the door handle again. "I could join you."

A spike of irritation shoots through me. I just want a fucking shower. "I said I'll be out in a minute," I say, my voice sharp.

Nicole doesn’t answer, and I finish up. I get out and dry off, noticing a glob of toothpaste on the edge of the sink. I probably should have cleaned the bathroom. Knowing Nicole, she won’t even mention it—just wipe it up herself and not say anything. There’s no reason that thought should make me angry, but it does. She’s going to walk through the apartment and put things away, do the things I haven't found the energy to do myself. Then she'll give me that look—her eyebrows drawn together, her lips pressed tight. Pity. She'll look at me with pity, and I don’t want to deal with that right now.

Sure enough, she’s washing dishes when I come out of the bathroom. I have the towel wrapped around my waist and her eyes rove over me, a little half-smile on her face.

"Hey." She takes a few steps toward me and bites her lower lip.

My dick does nothing. Limp as a fucking noodle. Normally, especially after she's been gone for a week, I'll be hard just at the sight of her. And that little lip nibble? Forget it. But this time, nothing. Son of a bitch, now I can’t even get a hard-on. This day just keeps getting better.