Page 64 of Tattered Edges

But he kept talking, so I resigned myself to the fact that we were going to discuss the break-in, whether I wanted to or not.

Logically speaking, it was a perfectly necessary conversation to have. Ididneed to deal with it, not ignore it.

“I believe it was Archie. He has a gambling addiction, which has a tendency to make him reckless. I can’t make it add up with what happened, but—”

“Wait,” I muttered, setting my coffee on the counter. “You think it’s Archie, too?”

Rory quirked an eyebrow at me. “So, you agree?”

“Yeah. I think so. I didn’t say anything to the police because I can’t justify the accusation. I mean, the only reason I could think he would do such a thing is to scare me. If that’s the case, then telling the police my little brother is bullying me seems ridiculous. Not to mention, if they took me seriously and questioned him but I was wrong?” I raked my fingers through my hair and got caught on a tangle. I groaned, extracted my hand, and finished, “The Blackstones already don’t like me. I don’t want to make it worse. Though, I didn’t know he had gambling problems.

“In any case, what I said last night was true. I couldn’t tell if the person who pushed me was a man or woman. It happened so fast, and I wasn’t expecting it.”

“I understand. We’ll see what the police turn up, but we’ll be vigilant ourselves. I can’t today, but I’ll go buy more security cameras for your place. I also know a locksmith who works for a decent wage and can change your locks. Until all that is sorted, you’ll stay here with me.”

The thought of sleeping in Rory’s bed for the next few nights was more than a little appealing. Except, I didn’t like how the beginning ofus—if we really were anus—was coupled with the previous night’s break-in. It made everything more convoluted, and I didn’t need any help making things complicated.

“Do you want me to stay because you’re worried about my safety or because you like me?”

He frowned, as if he found me completely ridiculous, and then replied simply, “Yes.”

I thought I knew what he meant, but I still hadn’t taken so much as a sip of coffee, and I didn’t want to get it wrong.

“Sorry, I—um—it’s been a long time since I’ve done this with anyone, and last night—we didn’t discuss what this was between us and—”

Rory didn’t let me finish but closed what little distance remained between us, slipped his hand around the back of my neck, and brought his lips down to meet mine in hard, closed-mouth kiss.

He lingered for a solid six seconds, long enough for me to begin to remember all the finer details of our night together.

When he lifted his mouth away from mine, he didn’t go far, but gave my neck a squeeze and muttered, “Sawyer, we both knew what we were doing in front of that fire. There was nothing casual or meaningless about it. I’ve tasted almost every inch of you, and I’m not nearly finished—how are you the least bit out of sorts about what this is?”

What I could only describe as relief—a feeling which didn’t seem to fit within the confines of such a small word—washed over me, making me feel as light as a feather. I placed my hands on his chest, giving him some of my weight as I murmured, “Well, when you put it that way…”

He shook his head. “I assure you, there’s no other way to put it,” he said before kissing me once more.

This time, I pressed up onto my tiptoes and reached for his shoulders, wrapping my arms around him as I opened my mouth in invitation. He accepted, and as his tongue swept between my lips, I forgot all about the worst-case scenario.

All I could think about was how much I still wanted him.

“Bloody hell,” he mumbled, his lips still pressed to mine. “I’m beginning to thinkenchantingwas putting it too mildly. Why can’t I stop kissing you?”

I smiled against his mouth and whispered, “Because you know I don’t want to stop, either.”

He grabbed me at my hips then, lifting me from my feet and planting me on the counter. I giggled in sheer excitement as he made room for himself between my legs before cradling my face with his hands. He swallowed my girlish delight, responding with a deep groan as he kissed me indulgently.

I sensed the bulge of his hardening length right where I wanted it, and I could feel it as my arousal began to make itself known.

“Rory? I’m—I’m not wearing—any—panties,” I managed to confess between kisses.

I’d meant it as a warning, seeing as I was sitting on his cool kitchen counter with only the very bottom of his shirt covering half my behind. But his next move made it clear he’d interpreted it very differently.

I liked his interpretation better.

He dropped a hand down to my center, tracing his fingers along my seam before slipping two inside of me. I gasped, sinking my own fingers into his messy hair as he played with me. It didn’t take him long to work me up to breathless. When he got his thumb involved, coaxing my orgasm by way of my clit, I buried my face between his neck and shoulder and moaned as my sex fluttered around his fingers.

“That a girl,” he mumbled, his lips in my hair.

His encouragement elicited another shiver.

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