Chapter 42
forty-two
. . .
SUMMER
Rory wasn’t kidding. The overlook is high above Coral Cove, hidden off a narrow trail only known to locals. It’s quiet except for the rustling of leaves and the distant crash of the waves against the shore. The view is stunning; rolling dunes, the endless stretch of ocean, with the sky open and wild above.
“Will this do?” he asks, a curious smile on his face as he takes in the awe on mine.
He pulls out the blanket he promised to bring, then sets my portable easel on one corner of it.
I smooth out my features, deciding to play it cool.
“It’s okay.” I shrug casually, before motioning to the picture-perfect scene.
“Just okay?” He presses his lips together and takes a step closer to me.
His proximity makes me crack. A huge smile pulls at my lips. “I mean, if you’re into breathtaking views and insane scenery.” I turn to motion to our surroundings.
When I glance back, he’s right there. His hands move to cup my face while his eyes study me intently.
“I didn’t have to come all the way out here for that.”
He kisses me and it’s playful and teasing, with a ripple of that electric chemistry that has always been pulsing between us.
My belly does that swoopy thing again. It’s become a familiar sensation. One that I associate with Rory. And happiness.
Rory makes me happy .
The thought has me dizzy.
So, I do what I do best, and focus on setting up my art supplies to paint.
I rummage through my paints to select a palette of colors that fit the scene. Soft blues and briny greens, streaks of golden tan for the dry grasses down below, and a deep rust for the pop of color a far-off umbrella provides.
As my brush strokes over the canvas, it occurs to me that for the first time in a while, I’m not painting something to leave behind for strangers.
I’m painting something for me.
I glance to where Rory has settled onto the blanket beside me with a book in his hand.
Because of him .
We’re quiet for a while. Me painting while Rory reads. It’s that contented silence I appreciate about us.
Us.
I’m starting to like the sound of it.
“Summer?” Rory whispers.
“Yeah?” I say distractedly while I work to blend where the ocean meets the sky.
“Don’t move.”
My brush freezes. “Why?”
“There’s a squirrel. And it’s looking at me.”
“And?”
Rory, as stealthily as he can, crawls his way over to hide behind me.
“It has murder in its eyes.”
I turn around to find a chunky gray squirrel standing a few feet away from the blanket eyeing the snack bag with predatory intensity.
I press my lips together, barely stifling a laugh. “He wants your nuts.”
Beside me, Rory pales. “ What? ”
“Your trail mix, Rory.” I bite back a laugh. “He’s coming for your snacks.”
“Oh, right.”
“So, you weren’t lying with that whole terrified of squirrels thing? I thought that was all a bit to sleep in my van.”
“Maybe it was and now I have to keep up the ruse. I guess you’ll never know.”
“Oh, I know . This six-foot-four Olympic swimmer fears woodland critters.”
Rory tilts his head back and empties the rest of the trail mix bag into this mouth. When he’s done chewing, he crumples up the bag and puts it into his backpack. “There. No more snacks, so leave.”
“Hey,” I pout. “I didn’t get any snacks.”
“Oops. Sorry. Want me to run back to the car and get you something?”
“And leave me here alone with the killer squirrel?” I lift a brow in jest.
“You’re hilarious.”
“I’ve got great material to work with.”
“Yeah, you do.”
The squirrel loses interest, and Rory relaxes again. But instead of picking up his book, he moves to sit next to me, draping his arms over his bent knees.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m watching you paint. And it’s fascinating.”
I blow out a breath, trying to ignore the tingle of nerves his presence brings me. After a few minutes, my strokes smooth out again, and I’m able to refocus on my painting.
“What is your goal with your art? Is it for fun, just for you? Or do you want to share it with the world?”
I shrug. It’s easy to act like I don’t have a plan. That it’s just for fun, but the reality is I do want more.
“Hey.” He slides a fingertip along the top of my thigh to get my attention. “It can be anything. Dream big.”
The way he’s looking at me with soft interest makes it easy to tell him everything.
“Okay. I want a gallery show. To be able to display my art with confidence.” I smile, Rory’s questions opening ideas in my mind that hadn’t been there before. “It would be impossible to track them down, but it would be cool to see all the Coveys together. To see them as a collection.”
I turn back to the canvas to add a few more brushstrokes to the horizon where the water meets the sky. That’s when I notice the clouds are darker than before.
Then, a fat drop of rain hits my canvas and slides down the length of it.
“Oh shit.” I pop up in a panic.
“Let’s pack up.” Rory rushes to get the rest of the picnic back into the backpack while I hurry to get my paints into their case.
One raindrop soon becomes ten, then a hundred.
“My painting!” It’s still wet but I’m hugging it as close to my chest as I can without causing further damage.
Rory tosses the blanket over me for protection. “Can you run? You’ve got your inhaler?” he asks with concern in his voice.
“Yeah.” I nod.
With my hand in his, he guides me toward the narrow trail.
Even as we move through the dense trees, the rain pelts us hard.
By the time we reach his Jeep, we’re soaked through, clothes clinging to our bodies. The blanket is drenched, but by some miracle, my painting is only moderately damp.
Rory opens the back of the vehicle, giving us a reprieve.
“Get in, get in,” he instructs, so I rush over to the passenger side while he loads our stuff. Inside the car, my skin slides against the leather seat, but it feels good to be out of the chaos of the storm. A moment later, the trunk slams shut and Rory rushes to the driver’s side.
Outside, the rain is coming down in sheets now. We can’t even see out the windshield.
“That came on fast.” I pant, my breath coming in puffs from running and the excitement of it all.
“You good?” he asks.
“Yeah, I just need a minute.” I inhale deeply to slow my breathing.
“From the looks of it, we’re going to be here for a while.”
When our eyes lock across the console, we both start laughing at our appearance.
Rory runs a hand through his hair, the wet, tousled strands making him look sexy as ever.
“How do you look so good right now?” I attempt to push away the wet hair that’s plastered to my forehead. “I’m a mess.”
Rory’s hand slides along my jaw, pushing the rest of the unruly hair out of my face. “You’re perfect.”
I shiver. “I’m freezing.”
“Come here.” He gives my wet shirt a tug, indicating I should join him in the driver’s seat.
“You’re just as wet as I am.”
He reaches for the hem of his soaked t-shirt and pulls it off, tossing it to the floor. “Problem solved.”
“I swear, any excuse for you to take off your shirt,” I tease, but seeing him there in nothing but his wet shorts is already elevating my temperature.
“Thank you for bringing me here.”
“You’re welcome.” His eyes drop to my lips.
That adrenaline rush is back. So is the swoop of my belly and tell-tale ache between my thighs. I want him. No, I need him.
And now we’re stuck at the base of the trail waiting out the storm with no one else in sight.
Slowly, I climb over the console to the driver’s seat and with one knee on each side of his hips, I settle onto his lap.
His hands move to grip my hips, and I shiver again in my wet clothes.
Rory peels my wet tank top up and off, exposing my bra. I wish it was something sexier than beige but when I put it on this morning, I hadn’t planned for it to be on display.
“Better?” he asks.
“A little.” I smile, but a shudder gives me away.
Rory’s large hands move up my arms, spreading warmth followed by gooseflesh as he makes his way to my shoulders.
“What about this?” he whispers before his mouth drops to my collarbone, trailing featherlight kisses across my chest.
“I’m getting warmer.” I sigh, letting my fingers dive into his wet strands to hold his head where I want it.
His fingers nimbly unhook my bra and peel the wet material away. With better access now, his mouth descends on my nipple. The contrast of his warm mouth and my cold, pebbled nipple has me arching into him.
With his mouth sucking and teasing, while his fingertips explore under the hem of my shorts, it doesn’t take him long to have me wound tight with every nerve sparking at a fever pitch.
“Rory. Please. I need more.”
He pulls back, then with a hand across my sternum, Rory angles me back against the steering wheel, big hands cupping and massaging my breasts before he makes his way to my waistband. A quick flick of a button and drop of a zipper, and his hand dips inside my underwear.
Our eyes lock as he slips a finger inside me.
“I love how slick and needy you get for me, Wildflower.”
In the past, words like that might have made me feel vulnerable and self-conscious, but from Rory’s mouth, they embolden me. I rock against his finger, showing him just how much I like his touch. That I want more.
“You do that to me. No one else ever has.”
It’s honest. Maybe too honest, but I want him to know how good he makes me feel. That it’s not just this heated moment. It’s him .
I’m rewarded with a second finger before his mouth captures mine in a blistering kiss.
Every kiss, every touch, every sensation builds until I shatter around his fingers. As my world tilts on its axis, my arms wrap around his shoulders to ground me.
He lines my center up with his erection and presses me against it. “This is what you do to me.”
We’re a mess. With the cool rain outside and the heat of our bodies inside, the windows are fogged up.
I rock against him, loving the feel of his hard cock pressed against my clit.
He grips my hips to slow me.
The rain outside is deafening. It drowns out logic and common sense. It continues to hammer against the roof of the car, matching the rhythm of my heartbeat.
“Keep doing that, Wildflower, and I’m going to end up fucking you right here.”
Rory’s been so patient with me, but I’m done waiting.
“Good.” I grind down harder. “That’s what I want.”
He pushes my hair back, tucking the wet strands behind my ears.
“You don’t have to prove anything to me. I want you, Summer. Not just this— you .”
I lean forward to kiss him. It’s soft but insistent.
“So have me,” I whisper against his lips.
He groans his agreement into my mouth.
Rory’s large frame isn’t meant for car sex, but I can tell by the look of determination in his eyes, he’s not going to let awkward angles and low ceilings stop him from being inside me. Thank god.
We could climb to the back seat, but the way his cock is rubbing against my clit at the perfect angle tells me this reclined seat is going to be the best option.
With the steering wheel against my ass, I manage to free one leg from my shorts, and then the other. For Rory, it’s an easy lift of his hips, then yank on his shorts and boxer briefs to free his cock.
After my gymnastic routine, I settle back onto his lap, and realize I didn’t even think to remove my thong. But for Rory, it’s no challenge. With a firm finger, he hooks the crotch and tugs it aside.
The tip of his cock nudges against my entrance, and my breathing ceases.
In all the excitement, I’ve forgotten how long it’s been since I had sex. And how big Rory is.
“I want you inside me, but it’s been a while. And you’re not the size of a paintbrush handle.”
“Thanks for noticing.” He wiggles his brows playfully, then his teasing smile softens into a thoughtful grin. “Don’t worry. We’ll take it easy. One inch at a time. Stretching you slowly until you can take me all like the good little wife you are.”
I suck in a breath, his words lighting me up from the inside. “That’s a really good plan.”
“I’m a good husband.”
“Fake husband,” I tease, but Rory shakes his head, his expression turning thoughtful.
“You’re mine, Summer. Right here. Like this. No more pretending.”
I study his face and finally acknowledge what I see there.
Safe. Electric. Real .
He presses inside me. Just like he said. An inch at a time until I relax around him.
“That’s it, Summer,” he coaxes. “Let me have you.”
At the same moment he lifts his hips again, I sink down onto him.
Oh, god.
The feeling of him inside me, filling me up in more ways than I could have ever imagined leaves me breathless. And the intensity of the moment has my eyes falling closed.
I exhale on a sigh and try to relax around him.
Rory’s hand cups my jaw, his thumb tracing along my bottom lip.
“Look at me, Summer. I want to see you.”
My eyes open to find him staring at me.
He rocks his hips and his cock presses deeper inside me.
“Do you feel that?”
All I can do is nod.
Our bodies melt into each other, and it’s a moment of breath-stealing relief.
Relief that the intimacy I thought might hurt or expose too much is suddenly safe and so much better than I let myself imagine.
Even though I’m on top, Rory’s unobstructed positioning gives him more control. He picks up the pace and all I can do is hold on for the ride. My knee is banging against the door but it’s worth the bruise that might appear later. My breasts bounce with every thrust. Rory cups one tenderly while his other hand dips between my legs to rub my clit.
The second I let go, it’s like the universe rewires itself. Everything is louder and brighter, and Rory’s name is stitched into every one of my nerve endings.
He follows quickly after, pumping into me again before pulsing deep inside me.
“Rory…that was…”
“I know.” He pulls me close, then smiles against my cheek before pressing a kiss to my jaw. “Just imagine what it could be like when we have space to move.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. It’s relaxed and easygoing.
Just imagine what it could be like if I let myself fall for you.
I collapse onto his chest and let him hold me there until the rain dissipates and we’re forced to pull on our wet clothes and leave.