Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
RORY
I had spent the afternoon and early evening with my momma, sisters, and daughters, setting up the backyard for Gran’s party. Fortunately, the busywork had kept my mind occupied, and I hadn’t been able to dwell on the thoughts that had consumed me at the store.
Now, though, back in my house, with my daughters at their father’s—no doubt hearing all about the upcoming wedding—there was nothing to do but play those worries on an endless loop in my mind. Even if I worked tirelessly, continued to grow and change, would I ever be enough?
My phone pinged with a text, and I stretched to grab it from the side table. I wanted to silence it, but I didn’t like to do that while the girls were gone. Especially not since the call I’d gotten from Ava. I wanted to make sure my girls knew they could call me anytime and I’d be there without hesitation.
I flipped the phone over in my hand, seeing Nash’s name on the notification screen.
Nash:
Netflix and chill? (Both kinds…)
If I weren’t in such a shit mood, the simple text would’ve made me smile. It’d been something we’d joked about since the evening I’d said it. Before, I’d always laughed—had found amusement in his amusement, even if it was at my expense because he’d been laughing with me not at me. But now, it served as just another confirmation of how obvious it was that we didn’t belong together. Apparently, everyone else in town could see it. Why couldn’t I?
Rory:
It’s been a day. I’m not good company.
The three dots popped up to indicate he was typing something before they disappeared. I stared at the screen for another minute, waiting for them to show up again. When they never did, I tossed my phone onto the cushion and curled into the arm of the couch, hugging a throw pillow to myself.
Ever since I’d gotten home, my chest had been aching over what I’d heard. Never once did any of the talk of my situation with Sean bother me this acutely, so why was this getting to me so much? What made this different?
Needing something mindless to watch, I cued up an old favorite and settled in for a quiet night alone.
An hour later, a knock sounded at my door, and a brief flash of fear fluttered in my chest. Thank heavens I hadn’t decided to watch the season finale of The Haunting of Hill House by myself, because I would’ve screamed at the sudden interruption. My house was out of the way enough that people didn’t just drop by. Not out of the blue, and not at nine o’clock in the evening. For once, I was glad Nash had finally gotten me in the habit of locking my door.
Knowing I was being overly cautious but not caring in the least, I grabbed my phone, prepared to dial 9-1-1 if needed. I pulled the curtains covering the front door window just enough so I could peek out.
Nash stood there, holding up a bottle of wine and a white paper bag with The Sweet Spot’s logo on it for me to see. He raised an eyebrow, and then pointedly looked down at the knob and dead bolt.
After letting out a huge exhale, I unlocked the door. “What’re you doin’ here? I told you I wasn’t good company.”
He pulled open the screen door before stepping over the threshold and right into my space. “I’m not interested in Perfect Rory—never have been. Real Rory is the one who keeps me comin’ back.”
“Yeah, well, Real Rory’s had a real shitty day.”
“That happens sometimes when you drop that plastered-on smile.”
I stilled and looked up at him, my eyes darting between his as I tried to read him. Did that mean…had he noticed that about me? Noticed I’d been pretending nearly my whole life? That the person the townspeople saw wasn’t the real me and certainly not the me I’d allowed myself to be with him?
I tipped my chin toward the bag. “Thought they closed three hours ago.”
One side of his mouth ticked up. “They did.”
“Then how’d you manage that?”
He shrugged. “One of the benefits of livin’ above the shop. And I promised I’d build ’em a new awning out front.”
A new awning? That meant he’d given up half a day’s work just to get me a single cupcake.
“What’d you do that for? We’ve got too many clients booked for you to give up that much time.”
“I believe the response you’re lookin’ for is thank you .”
I rolled my eyes. “Thank you.”
He nodded once and smiled. “You’re welcome. You and your sister might not have a lot in common, but I’ve been best friends with a girl long enough to know that sometimes all you need is a cupcake to make it better.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine before strolling toward the kitchen.
He’d been there enough times now that he knew where everything was and didn’t have to ask me to point out where I kept anything. He didn’t pause as he pulled down a glass, uncorked the bottle of wine, and poured me a healthy serving. Didn’t falter as he plated the white chocolate raspberry cupcake he’d received in a totally uneven barter, apparently just to make my day a little brighter.
Still silent, he guided me to sit on the couch, placed the cupcake in my hand, and set my glass of wine on the table next to me. Then he sank onto the opposite end of the couch, pulled my legs until my feet rested in his lap, and stared at the TV as season three of The Office played on the screen.
I couldn’t deny I enjoyed these quiet moments with him. But there we were, once again tucked away at my house—I realized with dawning horror that I’d never even seen his—where no one could find us. No one would even know he was there.
That’d all been my doing, but what good had it done? The people in town were still talking about us—about me . Still going on and on about what a shameless and apparently pitiful cougar I was to go after someone like him.
I hated that I’d conformed to some invisible Havenbrook standard and had tried to stifle the gossip. And I hated even more that he’d let me.
“All we ever do is watch TV and have sex,” I grumbled, biting into the delicious cupcake but refusing to moan.
He glanced over with a raised eyebrow. “Last I counted, you were puttin’ in about sixty hours a week, not including time with your girls. I think you deserve a break. Besides, I happen to like TV.” He squeezed my foot. “And I really like having sex with you.”
I finished off my cupcake, licking every remnant from my fingertips. “We’ve never gone anywhere but my house. I’ve never even seen your place.”
Though he was no doubt remembering the time he’d attempted to take me out, he didn’t bring that up. “You’re welcome to my tiny apartment anytime you want, princess.” He squeezed my foot. “But I think this is the part where I say we don’t have to go anywhere. We have everything right here.”
“That’s not true. What if… What if I wanted to go dancin’?”
“Nothing’s stoppin’ us from dancin’.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please, people don’t do that in real life. That’s only some romantic bullshit directors put into romcoms to build unrealistic expectations.”
“Sounds awfully cynical to me.”
Yeah, well, I was a thirty-three-year-old divorcée, mom of two who’d never truly experienced love or romance and had just been reminded exactly how out of my league I was in thinking this thing with Nash could be about anything but sex. Honestly, it was a miracle I wasn’t more cynical than this.
“It also sounds like a challenge.” He pulled his phone from his pocket, brushed his thumb over the screen a few times, then set it on the coffee table in front of us.
A slow song started to play, something with a soft, subtle beat I’d never heard before. He stood from the couch, plucked my plate from my hand, then pulled me up in front of him. Didn’t stop until we were pressed together, not even a paper’s thickness separating us.
He settled my hands on his shoulders before sweeping his own down my arms and back until his fingertips skimmed the upper curve of my ass. Rocking us side to side, he lowered his lips and brushed them against the side of my neck. “I dunno, princess. This feels pretty real to me.”
Real… Yeah, it’d started to feel real to me, too, and that was exactly what terrified me.
“Hmm…seems dancin’ isn’t doin’ the trick,” he said against my neck.
“What trick?”
“Gettin’ you to loosen up.”
After the day I’d had, that’d take a damn miracle, but I kept that to myself.
“Looks like I need to move on to Plan B.”
“And what’s that?”
Before I could even get the words out, he’d slipped his hands around my front and under my shirt, sliding it up and over my head. He lowered his head to my breasts, his tongue splitting its attention between my nipples. Soon, my fingers were in his hair, gripping him to me, and I couldn’t remember why my day had been so bad.
In a feat of epic proportions, he managed to rid me of my clothes while he worshiped my breasts. And then before I could blink, he shed his own, plucked a condom from his pocket, and sat us both on the couch with me astride him.
He pulled me against him, ducked his head, and took my already wet nipple into his mouth again. He licked and sucked, fondled and stroked all the parts of me that made my body sing. That made me wet and aching. That had me rocking against his erection, desperate to feel him inside me. The first glide of his cock into me always managed to steal my breath, and I desperately needed that right now.
When I finally sank down on him, his thickness filling me, stretching me so I straddled that delicious line of pleasure and pain, I couldn’t ignore the gnawing worry that had been planted that very first day. The one that I’d unknowingly watered and nourished in the time we’d been together. The one that’d had a spotlight shone on it today in the store.
The one that said I wasn’t enough to keep him. And he wasn’t the keeping kind anyway.
“Stay with me, princess.” His voice, along with his mouth, was just a whisper against me. He caressed my hips and ass, his fingers digging into my flesh and guiding me up and down his length as his breaths gusted against my lips. “You feel how good we are together? Your pussy was made for me.”
I couldn’t keep looking at him. Couldn’t stare into his eyes because it felt real . His words and his touch and his deep, penetrating gaze all felt too fucking real. I closed my eyes, trying to block it all out.
“Don’t hide from me,” he said, swatting my ass. “Not when you’re about to come while ridin’ my cock.”
I released a moan into his mouth as he captured mine. And despite the worries pinging in the back of my mind, I couldn’t deny him this. In the months we’d been together, the easier it had become. My releases had been a foregone conclusion each time we’d been intimate—he’d made certain of that. Even on my worst days, he played my body like an instrument, made it sing in the way only he could.
When he slipped his fingers down between us, settled them directly on my clit and circled me with the exact pressure and speed I needed, I crumpled on top of him, my sob trapped in my throat as I came in blinding waves of ecstasy.
“ Shit , Rory. That’s it. Fucking made for me, aren’t you?” He moaned in my neck, his breath hot on my skin. “Love bein’ inside you when you come.”
I’d gone boneless on top of him, but he guided me with ease, lifting me up and down his erection until a primal groan erupted from his throat when he settled deep inside me.
As he claimed my mouth in a kiss while he rode out his orgasm, his arms banded tightly around me, I knew I was in trouble. The two of us were nothing but a recipe for disaster, and I’d known it from the start.
The difference now, though, was when this all came crashing down around me—and there was no doubt in my mind it would—my heart would crash right along with it.