Love Unrehearsed

Fortunately, they’re just about wrapped on Slipknot.”

Her face lit up. It was such a beautiful thing. “Really?”

I smiled just as broadly. “He thinks Mike’s in love with you.”

“Really?”

“Really, really.”

After a few seconds of grinning from ear to ear, she said, “Ryan’s madly in love with you, you know. Stilll. . . please don’t sell the bar.”

I bristled a bit.

“I’m sad that I’m going to miss your engagement party at Ryan’s parents’. I’m sure Ellen will stuff you full of food.” She didn’t have to tell me that those words hurt her to say.

That reminded me of one more thing I had to do: time to see if my next bright idea would pan out.

“I went to visit Pete today,” I told Ryan when we Skyped later that night. Poor Pete. I could completely relate to the torturous itching that came from sporting a cast. His new limp also didn’t go unnoticed.

“How’s he doing?” Ryan asked while lying on the bed with his laptop on his legs. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and obviously had just gotten out of the shower, as his skin was flush and deliciously dewy. Damn, it was a beautiful sight on my computer screen.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to talk to you while you’re looking like that?” Ryan’s face scrunched. “Like what?”

“Naked and alll. . .” My hand waved since I was at a loss for words.

Ryan grinned, running a hand over his bare chest. “You like what you see?”

“You know I do.”

He flipped his laptop to the side, making sure the camera was showing what he was now stroking in his hand. Like a teenager watching a porno, I had my very own Ryan Christensen nudie show. “See anything else that you like?”

I blushed, feeling extremely nervous. “Oh my God, Ryan! What if some hacker can see you like that? That’s how private sex stuff . . .

stop! You want videos of you whacking off to go viral?”

He nudged his screen, aiming the camera back on his face, which now showed demanding authority. “No one is going to see.

Take your laptop back to our bed and take your clothes off.”

I jumped a bit at his stern tone, feeling oddly compelled to comply. Still, I was very apprehensive to do anything so risqué over the Internet. “Ryan . . .”

His expression was meant to show that he wasn’t going to be denied. “Now, Taryn.”

It worked.

Begrudgingly, I carried my laptop to my room and flopped down, still fully clothed.

We were both on our sides, one arm propping our heads up. I watched as his fingers moved toward the screen. “I miss you,” he said softly, cracking my resistance as if it were made of tissue paper. “I miss the feeling of completeness I have when you’re in my arms. Do you ever feel that way? Like a part of you is missing when we’re apart?” I wanted to reach through the screen and touch him back. “All the time. I sort of feel incomplete.”

He wiped his finger over his lips. It was the sexiest damn thing, as if his hunger for me was palpable. “Do you know what my favorite part of your body is?” I swallowed—hard—figuring he’d go for the obvious. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of guessing.

“No guess? It’s your lips. And not for the act that you might think I love them for. The curve of them makes me always wonder what’s going on in your head. Between your lips and your eyes I can more or less guess and I’m usually pretty accurate. You may not realize it, but they are the windows into your soul.”

I studied his face—the softness of his cheeks to where they met up with the shadow of beard growing on his jaw, the incredibly long eyelashes that framed those million-dollar bedroom eyes, the square cut of his chin. “Your eyes give you away, too, you know.”

“If you were here, I’d kiss you right now. I wouldn’t stop until you were naked underneath me, sighing in my mouth. I can almost feel the silky smoothness of your skin as I run my fingers beneath your undies.” I was beginning to believe there may be some

wonderful

advantages

to

video

chatting. He was seducing me with the soft cadence of his words and the visuals he created in my thoughts.

“Take your finger, run it slowly down your neck, down to the base of your throat. I want you to feel me kissing you as I make love to you.”

Obediently, I did as he instructed. Each time he told me to wet my fingers or pinch my own flesh turned me on more and more until I was drenched with excitement, panting and moaning. I’d touched myself plenty of times during those dry spells between dating, but this was a million times better.