Nerd Girl(89)

In an attempt to reassure me, he tilted my chin up with his fingers and bent down to kiss me. Kissing him was all-consuming, so it distracted me from thinking about anything other than his lips and his tongue. I kissed him back with fervor. For the time being, I pushed all my questions and insecurities to the back of my mind and focused wholeheartedly on the task at hand.

Our kiss continued and I slipped my hands under his shirt to feel his hard abs, my hands greedily exploring his chest and stomach. He placed his hands on my hips and lifted me up onto the countertop, wrapping my legs around his waist to secure him there. He pulled me into him as close as possible, molding every part of my body into his. My nipples, even under my shirt and bra, went taut and I could feel his excitement press into my stomach. Unexpectedly, though, he pulled away and stopped kissing me, leaning his forehead in so that it was touching mine. We were both breathing heavily and I was unhappy he had pulled his lips away. I pouted, wanting his warm, sensuous mouth back on mine, but he held steady and gazed at me with quiet intensity. He wanted to say something.

“Julia, this is happening between you and me. From the moment I saw you, I wanted you; more than I’ve wanted anyone or anything in my life. You don’t have to worry about what anyone else thinks about us. You only need to know how I feel. I’ve fallen crazily in love with you. You are everything I want and I am completely at your mercy. “

My heart pounded in my chest and my breath hitched. He kissed me thoroughly, full of tenderness, passion, love and reverence. Ryan took my breath away. This must be what they meant when they talked about making a woman swoon. If I had been standing, I would’ve been a wobbling mess of Jell-o.

He finally released me and lifted me down onto my feet. I was breathless and my whole body trembled from the intensity of his kiss and his words. He took my hand and led me upstairs to his bedroom, where he proceeded to make love to me with the same tenderness, passion, love and reverence as his all-consuming kiss.

Ryan and Catherine’s history could wait. The rest of the world could wait. Ryan was all mine; at least for the next four days.





It’s been five years since the last time I visited the San Juan Islands. I went with a college girlfriend of mine who wanted to have a girls-only weekend. We thought it would be fun to go bike riding on the island. Why I thought that that would be fun, I had no idea. I suspected it was the naiveté and ambition of youth. The longest distance I had ever biked before was about ten miles on the very flat Burke Gilman trail near the university. I wasn’t prepared for the twenty mile torturefest that had since prevented me from ever riding on another bike.

Besides recuperating from the bike ride from hell, my memories of that trip were mostly of my friend complaining about her significant other. I tried to lend a supportive ear, but by the end of the weekend, I couldn’t blame her boyfriend for wanting to spend more time alone.

We had stayed at a bed and breakfast in Friday Harbor, a quaint little town located on the south end of the island populated with gift shops, seafood restaurants, and plenty of other romantic bed and breakfast establishments, all lined with potted red geraniums on their windowsills. The town was tiny, only about three or four square blocks in each direction. I remembered thinking, back then, how romantic it would be to come here sometime with a boyfriend. I had imagined strolling the few blocks along the waterfront, walking hand in hand, watching the ferries roll in and eating ice cream. If we were lucky, we would sleep on our boat that we had sailed from Seattle. If we didn’t have a boat, we would stay in one of those cute bed and breakfast spots, drinking coffee on the deck overlooking the harbor after having just made love.

So, in a way, my plans for the weekend with Ryan were sort of a little fantasy come true. Sometimes I had to pinch myself. Ryan and I were happening so quickly that I hadn’t really had time to process it all.

As I followed Ryan along one of the docks in the Elliott Bay Marina, we finally stopped at what looked to be to be a huge white boat. Actually, it fit more into the yacht category. Not that I was one to judge or anything, but this clearly was not a run of the mill sort of boat. This was a fancy boat and a big boat; bigger than any personal watercraft I’d ever been on. Ryan told me we would be staying on his boat for the duration of the trip. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I guess I thought we would have a pull out bed of some sort, a toilet and basic shower, and maybe a sink and hot pot; I thought it would be more like camping. This was no little camper on the water—it was a full-fledged, floating luxury home. I noticed the name of the boat was painted on the rear. It made me smile. Dawg House.