Chapter 19 #2
“You need a lawyer?”
My smile is immediate. “No. But I’ll file an injunction, if I have to.”
Her lips lift into a reluctant, genuine smile. “Excuse me,” she says, speaking to the audience I’ve forgotten about.
I grab her hand and head straight toward the bathroom I spotted while coming up the stairs. I don’t have to feign the urgency in my impatient strides.
“What are you doing?” she whispers.
She follows me down the hall and into one of the bathrooms even though I don’t answer.
I shut and lock the door behind us. “Mess up your hair.”
Rather than comply, Rory crosses her arms across her chest. Her tits were already on display; now they’re practically spilling out. “This is ridiculous, Flynn. No one is going to think we snuck in here to have sex.”
Everyone is going to think that.
It’s exactly what I would have suggested if we were dating, assuming we actually made it here in the first place. It was easier to file certain thoughts about Rory under the category of Never Going to Happen back before we were pretending they were happening.
“Me by the pool and you in here with another guy is not going to sell this. Drastic measures need to be taken.”
The plan. That’s what I need to focus on. Not what Rhody said or how close Knox was standing to her.
“What guy?”
“Take him off the list, Rory. Knox already saw us together, so him flirting with you tonight is a dick move.”
She laughs. “Flirting? We were talking, and there were, like, ten other—”
Rory stops talking when I take a step closer, fully invading her personal space.
“You okay with more kissing?” I ask impulsively.
Swollen lips and a lack of lipstick are more incriminating than messy hair. But mostly, I just want to kiss her again.
“More, uh … okay.” Her pupils are dilated as she watches me place a palm on the door behind her head.
She’s reacting to the situation, not only me.
But there’s something special about watching Rory’s chest rise with a rapid inhale as our proximity registers.
About seeing her tongue swipe across her lower lip.
About witnessing her be unsure and a little unbalanced when she’s normally poised and polished and—around me—dismissive.
This has nothing to do with my father’s ultimatum or the future foundation.
I’m owed my inheritance as soon as I announce my engagement.
Julian won’t hear—or care—about me fucking my future fiancée at a party.
I want Carson Albright to hear from all his friends how I couldn’t keep my hands off her.
I want Knox Wellington and every other guy who’s been checking Rory out tonight to realize they missed their chance with her.
Rory hasn’t said anything since she gave permission for me to kiss her. But her breathing sounds rapid, inhales and exhales echoing off the white marble and porcelain surrounding us. All I can see is blonde hair and pink lips and a black dress.
“It’d take me a minute to get a condom on,” I explain, holding her gaze.
Her throat contracts with another swallow. “I doubt it takes this long. You’ve had plenty of practice.”
“Yeah, but it’s been a while.”
I’m not sure why I said that. I guess I want Rory to know that I’ve honored her request I be discreet and skip shenanigans. That I’m capable of taking things—this—seriously.
“No one’s supposed to think it’s been a while. You pulled me in here because we can’t stop fucking, remember?”
This is a really shitty time for Rory to start swearing. Especially when she’s using the verb in reference to us. I’m getting hard.
“I remember.” I tilt her chin up, tracing the line of her jaw with my thumb. Fight fire with fire. “Are you normally loud?”
Rory’s inhale is unsteady. This time, I think it has nothing to do with the situation we’re in.
Her shoulders square as she regains her composure. “I’m normally faking it.”
I was trying to shock her with my bluntness. I should have anticipated Rory would match that.
“Four years, and he couldn’t find your clit?”
She hesitates, then says, “It wasn’t just him. I have a hard time … I can come a lot faster on my own than with a partner. Guys get embarrassed or annoyed by that, so I’ve learned it’s easier to just … pretend.”
This was already an uncomfortable situation for my dick. It hardens even more, straining against my zipper, as I think about showing Rory how easily I could make her come for real.
“Don’t pretend.”
“Excellent advice, coming from my fake boyfriend. You could have put on four condoms by now. Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
“You’re so bossy,” I tease.
Rory doesn’t smile as she replies, “I know I am,” and I realize I’ve unerringly uncovered another insecurity of hers concerning intimacy.
“Do you like being in charge? Do you want to tell me what to do?”
“No. No, I’m fine not being in charge. I guess guys—guys expect me to tell them what to do. Aside from the, uh, obvious.”
I step even closer, physically pressing her against the door.
Rory inhales quickly, feeling the bulge of my erection against her stomach, eyes widening until all I can see is blue.
I place my right hand on her hip, leaving my left behind her head.
A swift tug pulls the hem of her dress a couple of inches higher.
The wrinkles should last long enough for someone to notice.
Rory swallows again. It’s one of her tells when she’s unsure or overwhelmed. Or aroused, I think, reading the other signals from her body. Dilated pupils. Damp lips. Rapid breathing.
I bet she’s wet.
I lower my mouth to her left shoulder, running my tongue across the expanse of skin, over the thin black strap, until I reach the curve of her neck. Her chin lifts, skull colliding with my knuckles instead of the hard door.
I lift my head. “You okay?”
“I—yeah. You—thanks.”
She seems stunned I would have thought to prevent a concussion.
Either she’s not used to strong reactions or she’s only had sex in a bed.
Both bother me. Touching Rory Kensington is a privilege.
Yet from what she’s said about Carson and what I overheard about her first time, she’s never had good sex.
I lower my mouth again, finding her pulse point and lightly sucking above it. Pink blossoms across her pale skin. I suck again, harder, ensuring it’ll leave a lasting mark.
Rory swears, the husky, startled syllables making my cock twitch against chafing fabric. I use my free hand to adjust my dick. I don’t really care that she knows I’m hard, but I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. This was supposed to be a fake hookup.
We’ve probably been in here for ten minutes. Time for the finale.
I move my lips to her mouth, shifting a little left so our bodies are no longer flush. Purposefully banging my knee near the hinges every few seconds so the door rattles in its frame.
She kisses me back this time. Maybe because I asked first, so she knew it was coming.
Maybe because there aren’t any eyes on us, no one to witness what’s taking place.
Her lips are tentative at first, and then we fall into a rhythm.
Her hands land on my shoulders without me suggesting it, gripping the fabric of my shirt.
Her fingers slide higher, into my hair, tugging on the strands.
She sucks on my tongue enthusiastically.
I groan, imagining that suction elsewhere.
The tip of my cock is likely leaking; I’m so desperate for release.
Her teeth tug on my lower lip, and I practically punch the wall. I can’t touch her for real. Can’t yank her dress up the rest of the way and sink inside of her. That frustration is only feeding my arousal.
I bang the door a few more times in rapid succession, then take a large step back, interlocking my fingers behind my head as I struggle for even breaths.
Rory appears equally affected. Her cheeks are bright red, lips glossy and swollen. Her dress is bunched around her hips. She looks dazed. Freshly fucked.
Her eyes are where I focus last. No exasperation or disapproval exists in those blue depths now.
All the animosity that’s ever existed between us has been stripped away.
All I want to do is lift her on the counter to show her how much better real sex can be.
But this is the first day of many we’ll face as a fake couple, and that arrangement will only be complicated by blurred lines. They’re exactly what I was trying to avoid.
As soon as the residual lust fades, I’m sure Rory will agree. It’s not like she even asked me to fuck her. She’s already recovering, tugging her dress down, then leaning closer to the mirror above the sink to wipe away her smeared lipstick.
“You should undo a button. I look more disheveled than you.”
I do as she suggested. “Better?”
Rory glances over, her gaze lingering on the bulge in my pants. “You should fix that too.”
“You staring isn’t helping,” I say, reaching down to adjust myself again.
She doesn’t look away. She watches me attempt to make my cock less conspicuous. “That sounds like a you problem, Parks.”
I should have kissed her at Kit’s New Year’s Eve party.