Feeling the need to defend myself, I say, “He’s all I’ve ever had.”
Taking my hand in his, he places it against his chest when he tells me, “You have me now too.”
I feel myself falling for him even more when I hear the sincerity in his words. Fisting his shirt in my hand, I wrap my free arm around his neck and hug him.
“Let’s go home,” he says into my ear, and I know that when he says home, he means his place, and I like that.
Chapter Twenty-Five
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School started back up this past week and so far, it seems that apart from my dance studios, classes should be fairly easy. Leaving my Technique Instruction lecture, I text Ryan to let him know I’m coming over a little earlier than planned since all we did was go over the syllabus.
The other day I was looking at the matted photos that I had seen back in November and when I asked to see more, he offered to show them to me this afternoon. I have been fixated on the photo I originally saw of the curve of a woman’s back. I’ve been trying to not let my curiosity get the best of me, but I can’t help but wonder who the women are in his photos.
When I arrive, the door is unlocked, so I let myself in. I don’t see Ryan when I enter, so I call out, “Ryan?”
“Back in my office,” he yells.
Walking down the hall to his home office, the door is cracked. I lightly knock before I enter.
“Hey, babe,” he says as he leans back in his leather chair from behind his desk. “Come here.”
I walk around his large desk as he scoots his chair back. He stretches his arms out and envelops me as I sit on his lap.
“How were your classes today?” he asks as he brushes my hair off my shoulder.
“Uneventful, but it’s only the first week. Nothing but going over the syllabus for the most part.”
“I’m glad you’re here. I’ve missed you,” he says as he brings my head down so that he can kiss me.
I’ve been working more while Roxy rearranges the calendar to accommodate everyone’s new class schedules. When I’m not working, I have been in the studio adding choreography and rehearsing my solo. Auditions for our final production are next month, so there hasn’t been much time for Ryan and I to spend together.
“So, don’t be mad, but . . .” I start when Ryan interrupts, “Oh, God.”
“Just listen,” I say. “When I was on campus today I ran into Stacy Keets who works at the Henry Art Gallery. She was telling me that one of her pieces got picked up for a gallery show next month.”
“So, you want to go?”
“Yes, but I was thinking that you could submit one of your photos.”
“Babe,” he says as he cocks his head to the side. “Those are just a hobby that I hardly even take seriously. I’m far from having them displayed in a gallery of all places.”
Rolling my eyes at him, I continue, “Well, I happen to love the few photos I’ve seen. They’re a lot better than you think they are.”
“You’re cute,” he teases.
“I’m serious, I think that you should at least submit something and see if it gets accepted. If not, nothing lost, right?”
“And if they are?”
“Then you can take me as your date for the showing,” I say with a sly grin.
“If I say I’ll think about it, will that suffice?”
“Yep.”
Laughing at me, he buries his head in my neck and starts nipping the curve of my shoulder, which he knows is my ticklish spot.
Giggling uncontrollably as he playfully assaults my neck, I manage to push him away and hop off of his lap.
“Show me all your photos so I can pick out the ones for you to consider submitting,” I tease.
Rolling his chair back to the wooden credenza on the wall behind his desk, he slides one of the doors open and pulls out a stack of mattes.
“Here, boss,” he says with a wink and then follows me as I start making my way to the living room.
“Want something to drink?” he asks.
“Yeah, anything hot.”
Taking a seat on the couch, I cross my legs under me and make myself comfortable as I look at the first photo. It’s a black and white image of a woman’s neck and collarbone. It’s backlit so everything is black except for the outline of the curves. Flipping to the next, it’s another similar sensual photo. Then a photo of a naked woman lying on her back with her legs seductively crossed. I keep flipping, until my stomach is knotted up so tightly that I can’t look anymore.
I set the stack face down on the coffee table and stand up.
“I’ll be right back,” I say as I rush to the bathroom and shut the door behind me.