Chapter 48
forty-eight
. . .
SUMMER
I’m just putting the finishing touches on the table setting when I hear the door to the garage click shut. I turn to find Rory standing in the doorway, dressed in a Carolina Current t-shirt and gray joggers, the ends of his golden wavy hair peeking out from underneath his backwards hat.
He might as well be in a tuxedo for how devastatingly good he looks.
He’s only been gone four days; I need to chill. But chill is the last thing I’m capable of.
We’ve been texting all weekend, but it hasn’t eased the ache of missing him. Even knowing the Current won the meet and Rory medaled doesn’t compare to having him here.
I hadn’t wanted to bother him while he was focused on swimming, so I’d texted him after his events, hoping to plant a seed for the necessary but uncomfortable conversation we need to have.
Now that he’s here, I’m struggling to remember everything I need to say.
With a weighted gaze that never leaves mine, he gently sets his duffel bag on the floor, then slowly moves toward me.
His familiar scent hits me first. Driftwood and eucalyptus with a tinge of chlorine. It clings to him no matter how hard he scrubs, and I secretly hope it never fades.
He stares down at me with an expression I can’t read. His typically easygoing grin is replaced by a tense line.
“I missed you so much it hurts.”
“Me, too. Every second you were gone it felt like something was missing.”
The corner of his mouth lifts, and he closes the miniscule gap between us, his body brushing against mine.
“I heard about your PR. Congratulations.” I throw my arms around his neck and pull him in tight.
“Thank you.” He squeezes me back. “There was this woman I was hoping to impress.”
His hand drops low to the curve of my ass, those long fingers teasing the skin below the hem of my skirt.
“Well, mission accomplished,” I say, breathless in his ear as our bodies cling to one another. His warm lips skim along the shell of my ear, causing me to forget everything else. “I’m always in awe of you.”
“It feels so good to hold you. And you smell fucking fantastic.”
When his mouth finds mine, I lose myself in him. Rory’s kiss is both comforting and achingly exhilarating. It takes my breath away while at the same time grounding me. It’s the thrill of being swept away, wild and free, while also tethered so you know you’re safe.
When I pull back, the look in Rory’s eyes is pure heat. My stomach flips deliciously at the sight of his intense gaze, and I press my fingers to my swollen lips.
“I made dinner.” I nod toward the table set for two.
“Yeah, you did.” Rory’s eyes snag on the table behind me, but quickly return to me. His gaze is hungry. Ready to devour.
My tongue darts out to lick my bottom lip and his eyes trace every movement. “I figured you would be hungry.” I can’t help but smirk. “You always are.”
“You’re right.” His thumb trails along the column of my neck, his other fingers closing in at the base to add the slightest pressure. “I’m fucking starving.”
In the blink of an eye, his left arm clears the table. Plates, silverware, glasses. It all goes clattering to the floor. In the next instant, he lifts me onto the table.
“Those were our new dishes,” I gasp, half-shocked, half-turned on. “Your parents sent them as a wedding gift.”
“I’ll replace them tomorrow,” he says, voice low and unwavering, already tugging me toward the edge of the table like a man possessed.
The wicked gleam in his eyes makes it impossible to argue.
“I’d like my dinner now, sweet wife.”
My breath catches. I guess the dishes aren’t the only thing getting ruined tonight.
Reaching under my skirt, he hooks his fingers into my underwear, quickly yanking them down my legs. Then, he presses my knees apart and steps between them. My skirt has ridden up my hips, exposing me to him.
He swipes a finger down my center where I’m wet and needy for him, then brings it to his mouth for a taste.
“Mmm.” He groans, licking his fingers clean. “My favorite.”
He does it again, this time swiping his slick finger coated in my arousal against my mouth.
“You’re my favorite meal, Summer,” he murmurs against my lips. “I could eat you every day.”
Then, Rory sinks to his knees, his breath warm against my skin. One slow stroke of his tongue and I’m undone. His mouth is reverent, his rhythm deliberate. Like he’s memorizing every inch of me.
My hands find his hair, the wavy strands the perfect length to tug as he works me toward orgasm.
With the same determination he trains with he brings me to the brink.
“I want you messy, Summer. I want your pussy dripping all over this table so I can lick up every drop.”
When he dips two fingers inside me, it’s gentle, yet commanding, and exactly what I need to let go.
“Rory!” I cry out, my body arching as a wave of pleasure crashes over me. It rolls through me, sharp and shattering, leaving me trembling and breathless, clinging to him like he’s the only solid thing left in the world.
I lie there, my skin slick with sweat and the shockwaves of my orgasm slowly dissipating.
Rory’s tongue swirls against my inner thigh, one side then the other, cleaning me up like he said he would. His fingers still working inside me as I come down from the high.
His mouth and fingers are phenomenal, but I want more.
I want his cock.
Tugging gently on his hair, I pull him up to me. His lips immediately descend on mine, letting me taste myself and sending another rush of arousal between my legs. His fingers tease under my shirt, his mouth retreating for a moment to lift it up and over my head.
“I’m nowhere near done with you,” he growls, voice thick with heat as he hovers above me. He nips at my lower lip, his fingers sliding inside the cup of my bra to tease an achy nipple.
“Good,” I whisper, tugging his shirt upward. “I’m not done with you, either.”
He lifts his arms so I can pull his shirt all the way off, then reaches around to unclasp my bra.
But just as heat begins to flood through me, he pauses. Pulling back instead of pressing in. His eyes lock on mine, steady and unreadable, and for a breathless second, I wonder if I’ve said too much. If my words revealed more than I’d intended to.
I sit there, bare from the waist up, legs dangling off the edge of the table, heart pounding.
“Good,” he says at last, his voice low but firmer now. “It’s settled. No one’s done here. Not by a long shot.”
He lifts me off the table, wrapping my legs around his waist and carries me toward our bedroom.
“You didn’t want me on the table?” I ask, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Another time. Right now, I’m going to enjoy you in our bed.”
He crosses the threshold, then gently lays me on the bed, taking my skirt with him as he steps back.
I let my knees fall open, exposing myself to him. Rory’s gaze drops between my legs. One hand dips inside his boxer briefs to stroke his erection while his other hand’s palm skates up and down his jaw in an intense, contemplative motion.
I smile at how adorable he is when he’s distracted, but then his eyes lift to mine and all that intensity is focused on my face.
I watch him drop his boxer briefs, exposing his thick cock. Dying to taste him, I push myself forward and lick up the front of his shaft, my tongue tracing over the throbbing vein, then swirling around his head, tasting the saltiness of his precum.
I only get a few licks in before he’s urging me backwards and against the bed.
He crawls over me, his erection pressing against my inner thigh.
“I haven’t had you in four days, Wildflower. I’m fucking desperate for you.”
Then, he kisses me, sweet and gentle, like he’s my best friend.
It’s his super power. Turning me on so explicitly, while also making me feel safe and taken care of.
A moment later, he presses inside me.
And just like that, it’s not pretend anymore—not for me.