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The feeling is exquisite and after only a few more thrusts, another orgasm rips through me. Ryan straightens his back so that he can look into my eyes. He grabs my hips and buries himself deep inside of me while he comes, pulsing his seed into me and crying out my name. After several moments, he collapses on top of me and kisses me tenderly.
                  “I always knew you’d come back to me.”
     
    Chapter 4
                  “I couldn’t stay away.”
                  My response to Ryan is completely and utterly honest. I knew as well that I would come back to him. Both of us knew, even then, that we’d find a way to be together again, even if it took eight years…or more. 
                  There is no need to be coy or demure, to pretend that I am not exactly where I’m meant to be, that anything or anyone could have prevented our reunion. But then I frown as I remember just how long I’d searched for him. “It took me some time to find you, though. Why are you here?”  I nod toward the rest of the room. “Why didn’t you come home?” I am, of course referring to the town we grew up in. 
                  He pulls out of me and stands, then reaches for his pants and pulls them on. Knowing we’re going to talk about all that has happened, I reach for my clothes and pull them on as well. 
                  We sit back down onto the couch. I’m leaning against one arm of the couch with my legs crossed in front of me while he sits close to me, resting his hand on my thigh. One of his fingers absently traces the stitching of the seam of my jeans.
                  “I did go back home,” he begins. “Right after I was released. I got a room at that piece-of-shit excuse for a motel outside of town – you know the one.” He looks at me and grins devilishly.
                  I feel the color rise to my cheeks as the memory of the two of us spending time in that motel returns to me. He’s right. The motel is a shit-hole, but it was the only one close to our town that allowed its customers to pay with cash, which enabled the clients to maintain their anonymity. The motel staff was also fluent in the language of discretion and didn’t think to question a young couple who, though said they were married, were clearly not even old enough to purchase a pack of cigarettes. 
                  The night Ryan and I spent in that God-forsaken place was the only time we ever spent an entire night together. My father thought I was spending the night at a friend’s house, and his father thought the same.  That fact alone should tell you how little Ryan’s father cared for him or what he did. It never occurred to the man that his son had never before or since been to a sleepover at a friend’s house. 
                  “How…how long were you in town?  Where was I?  Did you come to my house?” 
                  The questions spill out of me now and I’m desperate for answers. Ryan faces me and takes both of my hands in his. 
                  “Of course I did,” he says, smiling tenderly. 
                  “Then why didn’t I see you?”
                  The smile leaves his face and is quickly replaced with anger. He looks at me pointedly and tilts his head as he waits for me to figure out why I didn’t see him that day. 
                  “My father,” I reply, as the answer come to me.   
                  He nods.
                  “What did he say to you? And you…what? You just gave up? You didn’t try to find me?”  I’m angry now and I realize I’m angry not just at my father, but at Ryan for giving up so easily. 
                  “Becs,” he says softly and his soothing voice instantly calms me. “Your father told me that if I came within a hundred feet of you or made contact in