Chapter Thirty-Three
Rory
‘But for what?’ Her voice is soft and hesitant, though her body betrays her mental state. Not that it matters, because I shouldn’t answer. I don’t want her to hurt anymore today. There’s no way I could bring myself to tell her I’ve spent the past two hours watching her sleep, all the while wishing I could bring myself to leave.
‘That would be telling.’ My eventual answer earns me a quiver of her lips that’s not quite a smile.
‘I’m sorry about earlier,’ she says, more hesitant still.
‘About your tragic taste in music? So you should be.’
This time, her smile is quick to grow and just as quick to fall. I curl my fingers tighter around my glass, resisting the urge to reach out and smooth her furrowing brow. It’s harder still as she tucks her hands between her thighs, prayer-like.
‘That song, it’s one of my mom’s favourites. I’d heard it plenty, but never really listened to it, you know?’
‘Do you want to talk about it? About what happened?’My relief is acute as she shakes her head—I’m in no frame of mind right now to hear about her ex—though I try not to show it. Instead, I raise my glass, closing my eyes and swallowing, silently relishing the burn as some kind of distraction for the longing twisting my insides. This desperate ache for just once more; one more kiss, one more fuck, never to be repeated again. It’s almost like nostalgia, or a sense of what could have been.Could’ve been but for me.
And yet it still hurts.
The longing for impossible things.
Regret of what could’ve been.
It’s the same with this house. I should’ve listened to Kit and left well alone, instead of vowing this house would be mine, despite my birth.
‘Was it worth the wait?’
The burn deepens as my throat constricts. How could she know? A beat later I realise she’s talking about the drink.
‘Ask me that again in a couple of hours.’ I set the glass down as I stand, and as I straighten, our eyes lock. I can’t quite make sense of her expression. Surprise? Shock? I study her face for further clues, observing, almost, as her pupils dilate.
That dark ring of lust is like a hit direct to the vein.
Just once more.
We all tell lies, but the worst of those are what we tell ourselves.
I move towards the bed and Fin uncurls from her almost foetal position, pushing herself onto her back. She doesn’t speak, at least, not with words, her breath catching as I lean over, bracing my hands either side of her head. Her lips part in soft invitation, but I don’t kiss her. Not yet.
‘Don’t tease.’
Her whispered admonishment brushes my cheek and I glance down at her lips at the exact same moment as she licks the pink flesh. Electricity surges through my whole body, the sensation as heady as though she’d licked not her lip, but the head of my dick.Jesus, I can almost see it—almost feel it—my arms trembling as I lower my mouth to hers.
‘Titch, I’m not teasing. I’m appreciating.’ My words are barely a whisper. ‘Feast with the eyes, then with the tongue.’
Our lips meet, and if intentions could be measured in kisses, this one seeks to possess. I can’t get close enough as I feed her my tongue again and again—feed her the taste of five hundred quid whisky, tainted by longing and need. Fear of this strength of feeling makes me tear my mouth from hers, my body heaving as I stare down.Bubble-gum pink lips in a face so pale.
‘Don’t stop,’ Fin whispers, curling her fingers in my shirt and leaving me under no illusion of the transparency of my expression.
I pause, but not for long, leaning on one hand as I use the other to grasp the shirt at my back, pulling it off. It’s like I’ve just handed her Christmas the way she trails her hands down my front.
‘These, too,’ she says, her fingers tugging my belt. ‘Hurry, Rory.’
‘Ladies first.’
Moments later, we’ve worked together to strip her of her leggings and sports bra and, in our haste, I can’t tell whether her own legs are helping or hindering in pushing my jeans from my legs. My belt clinks as they hit the floor and I climb over her, bracketing her thighs, a sudden jolt of pleasure coursing through my veins at the sight of her nakedness, the colour of her hardened nipples matching the flush of arousal across her chest.
‘Just look at you.’ My words are punctuated by nipping kisses as she shudders beneath me and I absolutely struggle to control myself. I trail my lips across her jaw—licking, sucking. Caressing her neck. ‘How did you get to be so fucking perfect?’
