"Of it not being what I hope it will be. Of it bringing up memories of Asher. Of ruining what we have."
Dr. Blanche leans back in her chair. "Julie, intimacy with Ryan won't be the same as it was with Asher. Because Ryan isn't Asher. He's not performing or manipulating. He's present. And if you're ready—truly ready—then trust that. Trust yourself. Trust him."
I nod, feeling the truth of her words settle in my chest. I do trust him. And I’m ready. More than ready, even. Kissing him has been such a rush that I had to buy a new toy, my first in years. And I’ve been getting off for weeks to fantasies about Ryan.
So, yeah. Ready is an understatement. I just need to find a way to show him that.
That night, Ryan shows up at my door with takeout from my favorite Chinese place, and the moment I open the door, something shifts. He's looking at me differently. Not the careful, patient way he's been looking at me for months. This is heat.Want. The kind of look that makes my stomach flip and my thighs clench without my permission.
"Hey," I say, suddenly breathless.
"Hey." His voice is lower than usual, rougher. He steps inside, sets the bag on the counter, and turns back to me. "You look beautiful."
I'm wearing leggings and a pink sweater. Nothing special. But the way he's looking at me makes me feel like I'm wearing something else entirely. "It's just leggings."
"I know what you're wearing." He moves closer, and I can smell his cologne-so woodsy and clean. So very him. So close I can feel the heat coming off him. "Doesn't change what I said."
We eat on the floor of my living room, our backs against the couch, but the conversation feels different tonight. Charged. Every time our hands brush reaching for food, I feel it like a spark straight between my legs.
His eyes drop to my mouth, then back up. "You look happy."
"I am happy."
He sets his plate down and shifts to face me fully. "Good. Because I need to tell you something."
My heart starts pounding. "Okay."
"I'm in love with you." His voice is steady, certain. "I've been in love with you for a long time. And I'm done pretending I'm not."
Tears prick at my eyes. "Ryan-"
"I'm all fucking in, Julie. Whatever you need, whatever pace you want-I'm here. But I need you to know that I want you. Not just as a friend. Not just as someone I'm dating. I want you."
The way he says it-the intensity in his voice-makes my breath catch. "I love you too," I whisper.
His relieved smile is everything. I can see how much that admission meant to him. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. I think I've been falling in love with you since before I even left on the cruise," I admit.
Honestly, maybe further back than that. And that's okay. He reaches out and cups my face in his hands. His thumb brushes across my cheekbone. "You're everything to me. You know that, right?"
"I do."
"Good."
He kisses me then, and it's not soft or tentative. It's hungry. Demanding. His hand slides into my hair, tilting my head back, and I gasp against his mouth. I've kissed him before, but this is different. This is need and want and months of restraint finally breaking, and I can feel it in every cell of my body, pooling heat between my thighs.
When he pulls back, his breathing is ragged. His eyes are dark. "Julie." My name sounds like a warning. Like he's holding himself back by a thread.
"Don't stop," I say.
"If we keep going...”
"I want to keep going." I reach for him, my fingers curling into his shirt. "I'm ready, Shawshank. I've been ready."
He searches my face. "Are you sure?"
"I'm more than sure."
