Page 59 of Tattered Edges

Another moan escaped me, and his grip around me tightened, our kiss growing increasingly frantic by the second. He pulled me fully into his arms, almost dragging me into his lap as he claimed my mouth with a hunger I felt, too, burning in my belly.

I thought him uninterested, but I was wrong.

This kiss was my proof I was so incredibly wrong.

Or so I thought, until the moment he pulled away—abruptly shattering the moment.

And he didn’t just end the kiss, he practically shoved me across the couch, holding me at arm’s length.

Both of us still panting, his eyes more vibrant and alert than I’d ever seen them, he breathed, “Not like this. I don’t want you like this.”

It was in that moment when I realized just how far I’d fallen for him. I knew it because what he said hit me like a punch to the gut. As if the wind had been knocked out of me, my body deflated underneath his hands.

He’d rejected me, again.

Only this time, it actually hurt.

“No, sweetheart, you misunderstand me,” he insisted, his hands tightening their hold—one at my shoulder, the other at my waist. “What I mean is, if we’re going to do this, I wantyou. Not when you’re drunk or jet-lagged, and not when you’re scared. I want the real you—gorgeous and enchanting as you are.”

I blinked hard and shook my head, the emotional whiplash of the moment quite jarring. When my eyes found his once more, all I could manage was, “Enchanting? You think—you think I’menchanting?”

The crease in the middle of his brow formed as he replied, “Unbearably so, yes.”

I was so flattered I was almost speechless. It wasn’t merely his word choice, but my awareness that Rory wasn’t a man who said such things halfheartedly. He never minced his words.

“Why didn’t you tell me before now?”

“Because I don’t want to break your heart, and I fear it’s inevitable.”

Suddenly, the distance between us was achingly intolerable. I wiggled my shoulders, signaling for him to let me go. When he did, I crawled toward him, settling myself across his lap as I wrapped one arm around his shoulders, holding one side of his bearded cheek in my free hand.

“I don’t think it is,” I whispered. “Rory…this is the real me. I’m yours for the taking. Have been for a while now. If it’s me you want, I’m right here.”

I barely got the words out before his mouth was sealed with mine, and I was putty in his hands.

His kiss was deep and sensual, creating a war within me.

I wanted to kiss him until my lips were raw, but I also wanted more—I wanted all of him, and I wanted him to have all of me.

His hands explored me liberally, as if he’d imagined this moment as much as I had, and he knew exactly where he wanted to go.

I was more than a little turned on when he reached for my sweater, and my sex pulsed yearningly when he peeled the garment over my head. Anxious to touch his sculpted marble-like physic, I wasn’t shy about removing the turtleneck he wore next. Pale as he was, his skin was hot to the touch, and I wanted to graze every inch of him with my lips.

When I pressed a wet kiss against his shoulder, he whispered a curse, buried his fingers in my hair, and gently coaxed my head where he wanted it. Then he licked my lips, teasing me before he said, “I’ll be damned if I don’t savor you the way I’ve thought about more times than I’ll ever admit. Let me up. I’ll be right back.”

With the promise of his return, I moved out of his lap and watched him make his way out of the room and down the hallway. He was gone for less than sixty seconds, but upon his return, my whole body buzzed with longing, like he’d been gone for much longer.

He switched off the overhead lights, and I watched as he tossed a condom on the coffee table before he spread a blanket open on the rug in front of the fire.

He was setting the scene.

Rory Collins was aromantic.

I was smiling when he came to stand in front of me. Before I stood to join him, he grazed his thumb across my bottom lip and muttered, “I want to taste every inch of you.”

My smile slipped as I pressed my thighs together.

There were a dozen things I could have said in response—words to echo his desire—but I said none of them.

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