But their favorite spots were elevators. In high rises they used to wait until they could get a car by themselves, press the button for the top floor and see if they could finish before the car stopped. In smaller buildings they’d press the Stop button, the alarm would always sound but it actually served to drown out Anne’s orgasms.
Good times, he thought. He was a different guy then, he suddenly realized. Less serious, certainly less structured, much more spontaneous. He’d closed down after Anne left him. He became much more conservative, cautious, not nearly as much fun, he realized.
Or was it just that he was a different person with Anne? And if they got back together, would he revert back to a more carefree persona? He glanced at her and she was smiling.
Standing so close to Anne, feeling her body heat, her scent, Ryan’s hand dangling just inches from hers, was such a turn on. And Syd be damned, there was something unfinished here. What if, okay, he knew it sounded stupid, but what if they were meant to be together? What if his getting the lottery ticket was all part of some huge master plan to get them back together? And as insane as he knew that kind of thinking was, Ryan was having a visceral reaction to Anne that he never felt with any other woman.
Anne felt it, too. She had to admit she missed those crazy days herself. Anne and Ryan’s love affair was filled with wild abandon. Sure they were kids, but during those first couple of years she felt electrified. A feeling she hasn’t had since. Not with Rick, never with any of her lovers. And she suddenly wondered if she was a different person with Ryan? If, no, when they got back together, would they be able recapture that exultation? And suddenly, more than ever, she wanted to find out.
DING. The elevator arriving interrupted both of their reveries. But as they stepped out of the elevator and walked down the thick carpet, something palpable had changed. They walked closer together, Ryan’s hand brushed Anne’s hand with every step until he finally wrapped his fingers around hers.
They faced each other as they reached the door to her suite. Anne slid the keycard into the door but her eyes never left Ryan’s face. Ryan pushed open the door; they were still holding hands as Anne led him inside. The door swung closed behind them. Without a word, Ryan pulled her close and kissed her.
It ignited a wildfire. Hands started flying, jackets hit the floor, he pulled out her blouse, she ripped open his shirt, undid his belt, he pulled up her skirt and pulled down her panties, she pulled down his pants and slipped his penis out of his boxers. Then, in a move they practiced while still UCLA undergrads, she leapt up throwing her legs around his waist as he caught her under the arms, then lowered her onto his cock.
They both gasped as he entered her.
And they stood there, staring into each other’s eyes, neither moving, both just enjoying the feeling of being a part of the other; a completeness neither had felt for so long.
“You feel so good,” he whispered.
“No,” she replied. “We feel this good.” As she began to gently rock her hips, he responded and seconds later the passion that had been building between both for the last two days exploded in simultaneous orgasms.
They lay in each other’s arms an hour later. Naked now, sated after another less frantic lovemaking session, Anne cuddled contentedly. She was surprised by the passion of their lovemaking. And she knew that something monumental had happened. She’d had a life changing epiphany. She loved Ryan.
Ryan.
Not his lottery money. Not the chance at a job running his foundation. But the flesh, blood, synapses and dimples of Ryan Magee.
She felt safe in his arms. Protected in his arms. At home in his arms.
This man, she realized, was her soul mate. She’d been a fool to leave him. The humiliating poverty of her childhood had skewed her priorities, and seven years ago, when she bolted from that cramped studio apartment, she made the biggest mistake of her life.
But now, somehow, she’d been given a second chance and she wasn’t going to blow it. She knew Ryan still loved her. She saw it in his eyes, the way he touched her, the way he made love to her. Now she needed him to realize what she now knew to be a cold hard fact; they belonged together.
Ryan propped himself up on an elbow, looked at Anne. “You lied to me,” Ryan said.
Fear rattled Anne. “I did?”
“You promised no funny business.”
Relief flooded Anne. “If I’m not mistaken, you kissed me. So, from a strictly legal point of view, you were the funny business instigator and I, the helpless victim.”
“There’s nothing helpless about you, baby,” he said kissing her.
Okay, Anne thought. Let’s see how he feels. “Regrets?” Anne asked.
No, more like a revelation Ryan thought. Wanting to be in love with Syd was different than actually being in love. Ryan cared deeply about Syd, knew how much she loved him and wanted to love her back because well, it would make Syd happy.
But the depth of his affection for Syd didn’t compare to the feelings suddenly unleashed in Ryan for Anne. A giddy, intoxicating, euphoria he forgot existed.
“No regrets.” Ryan said.
Okay, then here goes, thought Anne. “Leaving you was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. I love you, Ryan. I’ve always loved and I’ll always love you. If this was a revenge fuck, fine, I deserve it. But if it was more, if you feel the way I do, then please, take me back.”
There they were, the words Ryan wanted so desperately to hear in those misery soaked months after Anne left him. He’d fantasized about a midnight phone call, a frantic knock on his door, an apology-filled email. He checked his cell phone obsessively hoping for the call.
Then, slowly, his heart healed. Albeit a cell at a time, the way the body heals itself, and it took a long time.
But deep down, Ryan realized, he never stopped hoping that one day he’d get that call, hear that knock, read that email. And now, finally, here it was.
Please, take me back.
He stared into Anne’s beautiful brown eyes, smiled “Welcome home.”
Anne squealed with delight, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said, punctuating each thank you with another kiss. Then her fingers slid down his chest to his understandably exhausted penis. “Got anything left down there, big boy?”
Ryan laughed. “Yeah, a full bladder.” He slipped off the king size bed. “Be right back.” He walked naked into the bathroom, closed the door.
Anne fell back on the pillow nearly dizzy with joy. Somehow she’d turned Rick’s financial disaster and her own career debacle into a gold-plated life with the only man she’d ever loved. Life, go figure.
She heard the muffled sound of a cell phone vibrating. She scrambled across the bed to her purse, but her cell phone was silent.
She heard another vibration from Ryan’s clothes piled on the floor. She climbed off the bed, dug through the clothes and found the phone in Ryan’s jacket pocket. She looked at the Caller ID, Syd.
Shit. Anne did not want Ryan talking to her now.
The phone vibrated again.
Anne turned the cell phone off, dropped it back into Ryan’s jacket then leapt back into the bed.
Uh oh, Syd thought as she picked her way through traffic on the northbound 405. Ryan always picks up his phone. Possible exceptions: One, he’s already on the phone, and even though his phone would beep and tell him he had an incoming call and identify it as Syd, he’s so engrossed in the conversation he can’t possible pick up; two, he’s fucking the shit out of that bitch; three, he’s dead.