22. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
22
I'm lying on my back, watching Rory, half-draped in my jersey, as she continues to pace the room.
Her father called, and I don’t need to hear the words because her body is tense, and she’s clutching the phone like she’s ready to strangle it to death. Not my idea of a morning after a whole night of sex, but leave it to her old man to cock block me.
"Dad, please... listen—"
My gut pulls tight to have to watch this. I respect her dad, sure, but this is utter bullshit that he’s not seeing the other side. Rory is a grown-ass woman, and this will blow over once another headline creeps its way into the public eye about some other silly-ass thing.
I throw back the covers, my feet hitting the floor as I stand. Walking up to her, I hesitate for a second, then wrap my arm around her waist. She leans into me a bit, and I feel the subtle shift, the shared weight of her world. She's strong, but even the strongest players need backup to ensure they’re not completely blindsided.
“I’m not doing that,” she says, becoming rigid again and stepping out of my hold. “That’s too bad.”
I really hate this.
I feel useless—a spectator in a game where her father sets the rules. He’s a legend, but to Rory, he must feel like the opposition in this hotel room. Parents don’t always have to agree with their children, but I’m not a mass murderer. Rory could’ve picked a worse guy to date.
I don’t have that many faults, right? I mean, besides being known as a man-whore.
“You’re not being reasonable,” Rory clips out, gaining my attention again. “This isn’t the end of the world, Dad.”
The furrow between her brows deepens. Her stance tells a tale of years spent trying to please or keep him out of the limelight so that she could measure up to an ideal that wasn't hers.
She’s going against that for me.
I don’t know what to do. Should I love her more or corner her dad and tell him to lay off?
“You don’t get to decide who that is for me,” Rory’s voice cracks, but it’s full of conviction.
I step forward again, my support non-negotiable, but I hold back from touching her again, giving her space to breathe and to battle. She's fierce and unyielding, and the pride in my chest for this woman is overwhelming.
“Then quit,” she leers. “If this is such a big deal—Dad—” The slump of her shoulders is a visual echo of the call’s end, a conversation finished but far from resolved.
Rory’s eyes meet mine, and it’s like looking into the heart of the storm. She is determined, scared, and defiant, and I know I’d weather any storm for her.
“Well, that went as expected,” she says, her attempt at humor falling flat.
“I’m sorry, Snowflake—”
“Don’t be,” she retorts. “I knew what I was doing. I don’t regret it.”
I didn’t think she did. However, it doesn’t help.
“I don’t want you fighting with your dad,” I reply. “This isn’t what I wanted.”
She lifts her shoulders. “He’ll get over it.”
I wish I had some life-altering words or some strategy that could help.
“I don’t want you to deal with this alone,” I mutter. “I’m leaving for Tampa tonight. After…one more game with Montreal.”
“I think I should stay out of this one,” she replies softly. “The media is going to be there tenfold, I’m sure, and it’ll throw my dad off his game.”
I step forward and reach for her hip, pulling her to me. “You wanna come with me to Florida? Get some breathing room?”
“I’d love to come.” She frowns then. “But I’m unsure if throwing this in my dad’s face will help our cause. Maybe we should lay low for a few days.”
Lay low.
It's not the answer I wanted, but I still get it.
Regardless, it doesn’t take the knot of anxiety from my chest because time away gives her time to change her mind.
And I don’t know why that scares me, but I know the press. It’s a heavy damper on your life when they don’t fuck off.
“Don’t make any decisions without me,” I emit softly. “This will blow over.”
“I know.” Her voice isn’t convincing enough, and I feel I’m losing her already.
“I love you, Rory,” I force from my lips, my last line of defense coming down as the words prick at my skin. “I want this more than anything.”
Her face softens before she rises on her tiptoes and places a chastising kiss on my lips. I’m not sure if it’s to make me feel better or her. But it doesn’t hold the same passion as last night.
She just got into a fight with her dad, dumbass. She’s not in the mood.
“I want this, too,” she says finally. “What’s after Tampa?”
“Atlanta.”
“I’ll meet you in Atlanta then. That okay?”
“Baby, if I could put you in my pocket, I would.”
She smiles at me. “I love you, too, Judson Wells.”
While her kiss is sweet and innocent, mine is full of unyielding lust. Her words spark an animal in me that wants to cement those words to memory and have her in my veins again.
These are three words that I never considered much of anything. While they were nice to hear from other people, it knocks me off my world when Rory says them.
Off my axis.
I will marry this woman one day and mark her as mine. Fuck anyone who tries to get in the way.
“You sure you don’t want to sneak into Tampa?” I mutter against her lips. “I can think of several new places I'd like to fuck you.”
She chuckles lowly and wraps an arm around my neck. “If you’re thinking of a beach, that will get messy.”
“I was definitely thinking of a beach. And a pier. And fuck knows what else right now.”
“Pocket those ideas. We’ll use them for later.”
“You’re gonna need to tide me over,” I reply, chasing her lips for more of how she makes me feel.
“I can do that.”
“Can you do that right now?” She bobs her head, and I lift her in the air and carry her back to bed. “I want dirty and fast, Snowflake. You good with that?”
“Yes,” she whispers before I toss her to the bed and smack her ass.
“I want you on all fours, baby. Ass up in the air.”
Rory does that for me, and my name on her jersey beams brightly as a reminder of what she is and what she’s done.
My cock is so damn hard I feel as though it’s going to break off. Especially when Rory waits for me to take what I want. She will gladly give it to me. She looks back at me with sultry eyes.
I waste zero time pulling my dick out and positioning myself against her wet core.
Then I push in.
Rory groans right along with me, and I clasp her hips and start burying myself deeper.
“Fuck, baby,” I growl. “You’re so fucking perfect for me.”
Rory pushes back on me and begins fucking me back in equal measure. “More.”
Done.
My pace quickens, and I let go of how quickly we will come from this because the sooner it happens, the more I can do it again. The more I can listen to every one of her moans for me.
We quickly become a mess of sounds and bodies slapping against each other. I have the perfect view of watching myself pull out to disappear right back into her body.
Each thrust is just another promise of more.
Of commitment.
Of how I’m going to make her the happiest woman alive.
Rory’s scream is muffled in the mattress, and I lose myself along with her as her whimpers die down.
My orgasm is heavy and quick, sending an electric current through my body as I come.
Rory’s body is heaven and hell. It's a perfect mixture of a high when I’m fucking her but torture when I’m ready to go again. I need her.
Constantly.
Rory’s soft chuckle warms my chest as she flips around to spoon with me.
For once, I have nothing to say other than I love her, but I’m trying to keep the sappiness to a minimum here.
There's no need to scare the girl away.