Page 74 of Tattered Edges

Rory shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and pretended to be interested in the pre-game coverage on the television as he fought to keep memories of their morning in bed locked away.

While he couldn’t deny he’d been working out his fair share of pent-up longing for the past couple of days, he was surprised to learn of Sawyer’s ravenous sexual appetite. He’d have been a liar if he said he didn’t appreciate the challenge of keeping up with her. She’d yet to disappoint. Quite the opposite.

His mind and body working in tandem, he felt himself almost at half-mast as he recalled the little noises she sang into his ear right before she lost all semblance of control, overtaken by immense pleasure.

He cleared his throat and stretched his neck, willing his thoughts into submission.

Fortunately, the match was soon underway.

By the time their food arrived, the pub was full, the hum of chatter competing with the sound of the match. Arsenal scored the first goal after twenty minutes, eliciting cheers and groans—both of which could be heard coming from their table. It was during the stoppage time added to the first half when Manchester tied the score.

Sawyer was less than impressed. As she voiced her opinion of the team’s lackluster performance, Rory was reminded once more why the woman had proven to be so irresistible.

“Okay, alright, time for another round,” insisted Graham as he stood from his seat. “It’s a madhouse in here. Haven’t seen our server in ages. I’m headed to the bar. Rory, a hand?”

Rory didn’t deny him, and as they made their way through the crowd, he wasn’t the least bit taken aback when Graham said, “I’m onto you, you know?”

“Onto what?” called Rory over his shoulder, still feigning ignorance.

“Oh, come off it! You and Sawyer. You shagged, didn’t you? Finally gave in to all that sexual tension that’s been building for weeks.”

Rory pictured Sawyer, naked, blonde hair everywhere, her eyes barely open as she lay next to him, half asleep and smiling. She was so much more than a shag.

Graham clasped hold of his shoulder and gave him a shake as he laughed, “You did! I knew it. About bloody time.”

As they stopped behind the queue formed at the bar, Rory looked at his friend and admitted, “She’s more than that, mate.”

“No, I know. She’s great. We all think it. Nothing like Clara. Not that we minded having her around, but Sawyer’s a breath of fresh air.”

A frown tugged at Rory’s brow at the mention of his ex.

Until recently, he hardly ever thought about her. Not anymore. But his feelings for Sawyer had unexpectedly resurrected the past. In part, because he feared history would repeat itself. Except, the more he thought about it, and the more time he spent with Sawyer, the more obvious it became that such a fate seemed almost entirely unlikely.

It was true, he’d never give up the pub. It was his life and his legacy. Getting over Clara had been a matter of focusing on the choice he’d made—the choice she’d forced him to make. Their split had been the catalyst to his dream of expanding the pub into a restaurant.

A dream he’d all but abandoned—for Sawyer.

He didn’t want to get ahead of himself.

What he and Sawyer had was new.

Except, while it seemed pre-mature to already be considering the implications of longevity with the woman, that belief was overshadowed by the fact that he’d already made his choice.

He’d chosen Sawyer over his ambition.

He’d prioritizedherdream over his.

And he did it without the promise of anything other than her happiness.

He’d wanted her to stay long before he’d admitted to himselfwhy.

“Wait…” Graham interrupted Rory’s thoughts, making a show of getting a good look at his face before he asked, “Are you already in love with her?”

His scowl deepened as he shook away the idea. “We haven’t even been on a date yet.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Graham pressed. “I fell in love with Maya the moment I saw her.”

Rory rolled his eyes. “That was you tripping over your own feet at the sight of her.”

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