Chapter 18
I shut my bedroom door behind us. A decisive clunk. Too bad if the neighbours hear.
Rachel turns, shoving me back against the wood, one palm on my chest, the other still tangled in my fingers.
“Thank you.” The lamplight catches her eyes, blue dark like a country night, pupils huge. Face flushed with the same rush of adrenaline that still pumps in my veins even half an hour after our song. “That was one of the most amazing and terrifying things I’ve ever done.”
“Think you could get used to that? Live performance? Adoring fans?” I drag a finger along her jaw.
She laughs, shakes her head. “Not a chance.”
I lift our joined hands; press a kiss. “Then thanks for giving me one of the best days of my life. My words, my music. I never thought it would happen.”
She leans in, breasts pressed against me, forehead resting on mine, eyes closed.
“I never thought this would happen.” Her voice is quiet, shaky. “Wasn’t meant to.”
My pulse leaps. “What? Me getting you into my room?”
“Me. Liking you. Maybe falling for you a bit.”
“Maybe? Just a bit?” My grin wavers; suddenly it’s not my jeans that feel too tight but my chest, like my heart’s outgrown it.
“Way more than I know what to do with.”
I tip her chin, smirk to hide the quake inside. “I’ve got a few ideas what you can do with me.”
Her answering nod is small, but sure. Her mouth finds mine; her free hand pops my fly. Warm fingers slip past denim, cup me through thin cotton. My hips jerk, a guttural sound catching in our kiss as her touch turns every thought to white-hot static.
Clothes need to come off. Now.
Arm looped around her waist, I spin her across the room. My hand fumbles at her zipper, sweaty fingers unable to get a grip.
“Let me,” she says, pulling away, arms stretching over her head.
In seconds, the dress is a blue puddle on my bedroom floor, and she’s standing in front of me, bra and knickers so skimpy they’re barely there.
Lace sheer enough for nipples to peek through.
Her long legs disappear into black stilettos.
She balances on one heel, then the other, lean muscles flexing as she unbuckles ankle straps. Shoes skitter across the wooden floor.
I yank my tee over my head; it lands on the lamp like a surrender flag. Boots thud, socks follow, denim drags down my impatient thighs. She steps forward, slides her hand into my boxer briefs.
“I think they have to go.” She edges them down my hips, and I kick free, hard and ready. Her cool fingertips skim my hipbones; every nerve lights up like stage LEDs.
I haul her in. Lace brushes my skin; her breasts flatten against my chest. My fingers find the clasp, give the strap a cocky ping—and there’s that giggle. I want to sample that sound; loop it beneath every beat I ever play.
“Need some more help?” Her mouth slants up, a little taunt.
“I reckon I’ve got this.” It snaps open, and I slide the straps down her arms. “And these.” I tug the last scrap of lace down, and she kicks it free.
She gives a wicked shove. The mattress smacks the backs of my knees, and I topple, pulling her with me. She laughs against my throat, and the sound is like the roar of a crowd—wild, electric, mine.
She rocks onto her knees, bare and glistening against me, our breaths mixing with the faint music drifting from across the hallway.
Her eyes hold mine. “Are you sure you want this, Teddy?” No woman’s asked me that.
Air leaves my lungs in a rush, but I nod.
“I know you’ve been holding back,” she murmurs, palms splaying over my chest. “Because you’re tired of it meaning nothing.
This isn’t just fooling around for me anymore.
I think…I think I’m ready to try. To let myself feel something. Whatever this is.”
I curl a hand around her hip. “Only if you’re sure. One word and we hit pause—cuddles, sleep, whatever you need.”
“I’m sure,” she says, leaning forward until our foreheads touch. “I trust you. I want all of it—however long ‘all of it’ lasts.”
“Good,” I rasp.
She kisses her way down my body—quick nips, slow licks—heated skin to heated skin. She brings her head between my thighs, delicate tongue lapping in teasing swirls. Her mouth closes over me like hot silk. My hips buck, and the world blanks to white.
She pauses, her smug grin flashing. She knows exactly how close she’s got me.
“Up here.” My voice is gravel.
I hook her hand, pull her up the bed until her thighs frame my face.
One taste and I’m gone, the honey scent of her, the fluttering of muscles beneath my tongue, all my senses on overload.
I cup her arse in my hands, my fingers digging into the curve of her cheeks.
She’ll wear the marks tomorrow; the thought gives me a reckless satisfaction.
“Not like this,” she pants. “Want to come with you inside me.”
She flops beside me, her hair a wild halo. I search my wallet, fumble with a condom. She snatches it away; nips the corner with her teeth, tears the packet, rolls it on—the press of her hand nearly finishes me off.
“Can I take you from behind?” The words hitch out.
Her answer is a breathless nod, as she shuffles across the bed, braces for me. I find her clit, my finger circling. I don’t want to blow; need to take her with me.
When her breath stutters, I slip a finger inside.
She’s hot and slick; so ready for me. Muscles respond, clenching tight, and I pull out to a muted groan.
I slide in the head of my cock. She moans, pushes back, greedy.
One thrust and I’m buried to the hilt. She angles forward on her elbows, opening up further.
At first the rhythm’s rough, but her soft yes-sounds guide me until we’re in time—two drummers sharing one heartbeat. Her climax fists around me; I hold, shaking, letting her rippling pulse drag me over the edge.
When the last tremor rolls through, I slump across her back, sweat-slick and stupidly happy, and listen to our breathing sync like the fade-out of a perfect track.
Waking up to Rachel might be the best gift I’ve ever unwrapped. She’s lying on her back, a limp starfish, hair strewn across my pillow, lips parted, snoring a little. I’d take a picture, but she’d probably kill me.
As if she’s read the thought, her eyes flutter open. She gives me a slow smile—definitely can’t read my mind—and stretches like a sun-dazed cat. She rolls towards me.
“What’s the time?”
“Just on seven.” I put down my phone.
“Somehow, in one week, I’ve programmed an alarm clock in my head. Seven o’clock. Time to get up and go to the stables.”
“Yeah. You up for it?”
“Of course,” she smiles. “Wouldn’t miss spending time with my favourite bloke when I’ve only got him for a couple more days—” She grins at me. “—or his horse.”
“Thank god. I was worried there for a moment. After last night, I’m pretty sure I’m your favourite bloke. Not Solly.”
She grins over at me. “Oh yeah, last night. I forgot about that.”
“Let me give you a reminder, then.” I roll over and grip her arse, pulling her to me. My cock stands at attention against my stomach. It remembers.
As a result, we’re a little late riding out. Needing to cut it short, we’re in the mudroom, bundling off coats just on eight-thirty.
“Do you think the others know?” Rachel braces one hand on my shoulder while she tugs at a muddy riding boot with the other. I steady her calf; the warmth under my palm sparks a replay of last night so vivid I nearly groan.
“I’m not sure. Liv and Garrett might now. Since we’re right opposite. And you’re kind of noisy.”
“Cheeky bastard.” She yanks my beanie down over my eyes. “You’re the one who was practically singing my name.”
“Are you worried about them finding out?” I drag the beanie off, tuck it in my coat pocket.
“I’d probably rather they didn’t until after the wedding. Haley’s already starting to spin out. The crew from She Said Yes arrives in two hours. I can’t have me causing any drama. And Sam’s her maid of honour. She needs to focus on the bride, not us.”
“Best to keep it quiet, then,” I say. “Christ, if the tv crew sniffs a juicy titbit right under their noses, they’ll sell it to the tabloids for thousands.”
“Liv won’t say anything.”
“Nah. Nor will Garrett. He might give me a hard time about it when it’s just the two of us. But he’s no gossip.”
“Okay, so we just act normal.” The word normal hangs between us, suddenly too small for whatever we’ve become. “And disappear into each other’s rooms when no one’s looking.”
“And I try to keep my hands off you.”
Rachel steps close, lips brushing my ear. “Bet you a tenner you last less than an hour.”
The challenge zings through my veins. Game on. Though if I lose, the prize is her.
Upstairs, a door slams and voices echo down the hall. The clock’s ticking.