CHAPTER TWENTY
Breck
T he current between Rory and me is so intense it’s like it sapped the rest of the world of its electricity. We pull apart, the glow of the gas fireplace emitting a dull light in the otherwise dark room.
She giggles, pressing her forehead against my chest. We were so ensconced in our little bubble that I didn’t notice the storm raging. The windows whistle with the wind, causing a howling as it moves through the trees. I turn to look outside and the view is nearly black. Nothing but a bright blurry orb doing its best to shine through the heavy clouds.
I turn back to face Rory and she’s watching the view out the window as well, her lip caught between her teeth. I’m reminded of how good it felt to have mine pressed there.
“You’re staying here tonight.” Hell will freeze over before I let this woman walk a quarter mile in the blizzard outside.
She swallows and glances down at the couch, then back to me. “I’d argue, but I really don’t want to go out there. You’re sure you don’t mind?”
“I definitely”—I pause and move closer, right into her space—“don’t mind.” I crash my lips down on hers and she responds with equal fervor, lacing her hands behind my neck to tug at the ends of my hair. God, I love it when she does that.
There’s a war in my brain with every movement. The one side telling me this is a terrible idea. I’m not ready for this after everything with Talia. This is Wes’s sister. My daughter’s right upstairs.
The second side is telling its counterpart to fuck off and enjoy this moment. Enjoy this uncomplicated and beautiful woman who, for whatever reason, wants me. It really does feel good to be wanted. The first side of my brain finally shuts up when a little moan escapes from Rory. My hand slides down her neck, over her collarbone, and she arches forward into the touch. I smile against her mouth, glad I’m not the only one who wants more.
There’s no tequila to blame now, no conversation about her parents’ idiocy driving me to distract her. It’s just me wanting her and her wanting me. In the end, that’s all we need. I stand from the couch, using all my strength to lift her with me. She wraps her legs around my waist, hooking her feet behind my back. I walk with purpose through the dark. Up the stairs. Down the hall. To my room. I lower her onto the bed, pulling away only long enough to close the door, blocking the last of the light from the fire downstairs, and then I flip the lock.
There’s a soft giggle from the head of the bed as I make my way over. Then I crawl toward her with nothing but feel to guide me. My fingers linger on an ankle bone and rasp against denim stretched over toned legs. There’s a soft strip of skin where her shirt has ridden up—a strip of skin that grows as I push it up a little farther, and then a little farther still. Her breathing hitches and I shift forward, putting my weight on my arms on either side of her head. I’m nestled between her thighs, our bodies lined up and humming with arousal. Her breath caresses my skin through the thick black around us.
As my eyes begin to adjust I can only just see her lips an inch from mine. I lower my head as she lifts hers from the pillow. Our lips meet, and I’m lost.
There’s a yell from down the hall and I jerk awake.
Shit, Willow.
Movement in the bed beside me startles me almost as much as the yell did. The bedside lamp in my room is on now, and it may as well be the sun. Maybe that’s what woke Willow, the lights coming back on… The reason doesn’t matter, I need to go to her before she comes to me and finds the door locked, or worse, finds Rory in my bed.
I jump up, scanning the room for sweats, when fabric hits me in the back of the head and Rory stifles a laugh. It’s my boxers.
“Very funny,” I say in a hushed voice, trying to ignore the fact that I’m very naked right now and completely exposed to her—so unlike our rush of hands in the dark last night.
She laughs again and whispers, “Go.”
I shuffle into my boxers and slip out the door, closing it quickly behind me.
“Willow?” I ask, walking into her room. “You okay?”
She sniffles from her place on the top bunk. I wish she was on the bottom. I can’t climb in beside her and comfort her from down here.
She nods and wipes a tear away from her face.
“What’s wrong, love?”
“I heard a noise and then the light in the hallway came on. I was scared someone was in the house.”
“There’s no one in the house, baby. The power went out last night after you went to bed. It just came back on.” I swipe a tear from my girl’s cheek, hating that she’s upset. “Sorry it woke you up.”
“Oh, okay.” She nuzzles her head into my hand and I feel my heart squeeze tightly in my chest. I love her so much. I wish I could protect her from anything that might scare her, hurt her, but I’ve learned in epic ways recently that I can’t.
“You want to come down to the bottom bunk and snuggle?” I ask.
She shakes her head and nestles down into the blankets again. “I’m okay now. Thanks, Daddy.”
“I love you.” I lean forward and press a kiss to her temple.
Back in the hall, I need a minute to get myself together.
I had sex last night.
With Rory.
That was definitely not on my Lake Tahoe bingo card, but here we are. I wanted to kill Wes when I unpacked and found the box of condoms in my suitcase with a note that said just in case . If he ever finds out I made use of them with his sister, I imagine he’ll want to kill me instead. My lip quirks up in a smile and I shake my head, unwilling to feel any sort of regret over what happened.
With the inky darkness beyond the windows downstairs, you wouldn’t know it’s already five a.m. The kitchen light is on ahead of me, but I take a detour for the lamp in the living room, squinting to make out the shadow of someone sitting on the couch.
“Rory?”
There she sits, legs stretched long in front of her, leaning back against the arm rest with a blanket over her fully clothed body. “Hi. I didn’t want to be in the way if Willow needed you.”
I crouch down in front of her and interlace our fingers. “Thank you for thinking of her. Her finding you in my bed would not have been good.”
She glances down at our hands, one of hers still held in mine while her other fiddles with the blanket.
“I’m not saying last night wasn’t good. It was great. I just don’t think I want Willow to know about it. Is that okay?” I internally plead with her to say yes. It’s the only answer that’ll allow this to work.
She looks up and nods, the worry over my words lifting from her features. The side of her mouth tips up in a smile before she bites the bottom one between her teeth. “It was great, wasn’t it.”
“Oh, it definitely was.” I lift up higher on the balls of my feet so I can press my lips to hers. I want to lay her out on the couch, but it’s too risky.
“Do you want some sweats or something to wear if you’re going to go back to sleep?” I ask, running my hand up her jean-clad leg under the blanket.
She shakes her head. “Nah, I think I’m up now. I go back to work today, so I can’t stay too long before I need to go home and get ready.”
I stand up and stretch, realization dawning that I should probably put some sweats on over my boxers. Ignoring that thought for a minute, I walk to the window. It’s a winter wonderland outside, lit only by the streetlights which all have white snowy Santa hats on top. There has to be at least eighteen inches of snow on most every surface. The cars are buried. The sidewalks are non-existent. I can see a snowplow down the road working its way through the streets, but it’s going to be hours before anything gets cleared.
“I don’t know that you’re going anywhere for a bit,” I say, turning back around. Rory’s eyes jump to mine and I’m sure I just caught her checking out my ass. I grin and add, “You have your laptop, right? Could you work from here today?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Maybe. I wanted to work in the office today since I’ve been off for two weeks.”
“Do you really think anyone will be in the office with all this snow?”
“Oh, Breck, you sweet little Aussie. You know nothing of this wintery world we live in. We don’t let a little bit of snow hold us back.”
“A little bit of snow? A little bit of snow? There’s at least a foot and a half out there. Six inches might be doable, but eighteen…”
She stands, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, and joins me by the windowsill.
“You know… you’re actually a pretty good judge of measurements. Most men don’t know what six inches looks like, let alone eighteen.” She says it with the most deadpan expression, and I tilt my head down to look at her. There’s a beat of silence, then another, and we both burst out laughing.
It feels good to laugh. With her, everything feels good.
I wrap my arm around her and kiss the top of her rosy hair. “How about some coffee while I convince you?”
She pulls back a few inches and smiles. The freckles across her nose and cheeks stand out bright against her pale skin, her turquoise eyes sparkling. “If you insist.” Then she brushes her mouth over mine before sauntering into the kitchen. Her lithe hips sway with every step, and I follow her without another thought.