And she doesn’t even know, because she sleeps like a little log.
But she has to know what I was thinking when she was feeding me, right?
Right?
My cock throbs in my grip.
For months, I was so conflicted about hooking up with Rory. On the one hand…I wasn’t fucking saying no. On the other, she made it clear she only wanted my cock.
And now that we’ve been pushed together and forced to work through the point of bristling and barking at each other, and we haven’t had sex, I want her even more. On a deeper level.
On a forever level, again.
Not that I ever stopped wanting forever, but it didn’t seem like we’d ever be in more than just a holding pattern.
Turns out, I fucking miss what that was, and I got all tangled up in thinking it was a holding pattern.
If that’s all that Rory wants, then I’ll find a way to be happy as her boyfriend—if she’ll have me again.
Chapter 22
Rory
“Bring Uncle Dante another present,” my mom says to the twins.
Christmas Day gift opening is a slow process, with the kids bringing my dad each present one at a time. He reads out the label, and then they deliver it to the recipient. None of us exchange many presents anymore, but my sisters and I get each other a little something. This year I got Jules a new pair of headphones, and Cassie a monthly tea subscription.
“This one is for Rory,” my dad says.
The twins bring it over, and I glance at the tag. It’s not signed, but I recognize the handwriting. “Oh, this one is from Garrett, so I’ll wait until he comes downstairs.”
I set it behind me, and my dad reads out another name. A present from Tabitha for Allan.
As he opens it, I let my attention drift, and listen to the faint hiss of the shower upstairs. Falling asleep in Garrett’s arms last night…something felt different. And then this morning, sharing a cinnamon roll was a lot of fun.
Understatement.
He managed to make something quite innocent downrightfilthy.
I know that fun flirtation doesn’t solve whatever failed in our relationship, but it might be a lifeline we can cling to as we sort out the bigger problems.
A quiet giggle behind me is my only clue that one of the twins has stolen Garrett’s gift for me before I hear the rip of wrapping paper.
“Hey,” I protest, twisting around. “That’s mine.”
As I say it, I know it’s the wrong thing to say to a child. Like a red hot poker to their panic reaction, and wrapping paper goes everywhere as he finishes opening it for me because Christmas is just too exciting.
Jules snags it, her hands crushing the cardboard.
I gasp. “Hey, it might be fragile.”
She lifts the lid, frowns, then gets a funny expression on her face. “Nope, not fragile.”
Cassie grabs it, but then my mom grabs it before she can look at it.
“Mom, I wouldn’t—” Jules starts to say.
“Is it a ring?”
