Page 24 of Vodka And Virtue

My conscience waged a battle against my body. I wanted to taste his kiss. I wanted to feel his big rough hands on my skin, to know what it felt like to receive a man’s touch. How different would it feel from a woman’s? But the logical part of my brain kept reminding me that, not only was Rory a man, but he also had a roughneck, bad-boy stigma attached to him, and to boot, he was seventeen years older than me. It was all so…taboo.

Of course, my brother would laugh at me. He would say there was absolutely nothing taboo about the situation, whatsoever. That it was all in my prim and proper pretty little head. I knew he was right and that I was making mountains out of molehills. The simple truth was, if you liked somebody, you should just go for it and put your happiness above other peoples’ opinions. That’s the advice I would give somebody I cared about.

So why was it so hard for me to follow my own logic?

“Are you hungry?”

Gah! His voice sounded so deep and smooth. Absurdly, I wanted to ask him to read something to me, a chapter or two from a book on my Kindle app. Just so I could hear his sexy baritone go on and on.

I nodded, continuing to recline with my eyes closed, and a moment later, I heard the paper bag rustle, and then something warm touched my lips.

“Open for me.”

Fuck me.My whole body was opening for him.

I parted my lips, and he slowly slid a greasy french fry between them. I chewed the soft fried potato, enjoying the salty taste.

I felt the blanket tug and pull and assumed he was shifting his weight. When he spoke, I realized how close he was, his voice right next to my ear.

“Can I try something? I’m going to touch you, is that okay?”

Fuck, yes. Touch me. Slide your hand inside my shirt.

But instead, he lowered my head to his lap and fed me another french fry.

“That’s better, isn’t it? Your arms will get sore from hyper extending the muscle too long.”

As I chewed, I felt his fingers push through my hair, massaging and relaxing me further. I was falling under his spell. The magic of the afternoon working to lull me into a false sense of security. Much later, when I was home and alone, I would replay my actions and be mortified with the liberties I was allowing him to take.

Rory was a virtual stranger to me. A friend of my family for years, but not to me personally. I had been too young to mix with him. Too focused on myself and caught up in my own world to care who my uncle and my cousin befriended. Everything about him was new to me, and yet, it felt so easy to be with him. As if I didn’t have to worry about a thing, other than keeping my guard up between us because I was afraid I would give in too easily.

“You have no idea how hard it is for me to continue to act the way I think you want me to.”

That was a bold statement that caught my attention. “And how do you think I want you to act?”

“Like a gentleman. But all I want is to lean down and kiss your lips. To press you down into the sand and make love to you on this blanket.”

My eyes popped open, wide with panic. But Rory just chuckled, completely unconcerned.

“Got you to open your eyes, didn’t I? I’m not gonna lie, those were actually my thoughts. But you have nothing to fear from me. I would never take something you didn’t want to give me or ask for something you weren’t ready for. I won’t push you, Carlisle. I will wait patiently for you to come to me.”

He was saying all the right things, and yes, I was turned on. His thoughts were now my thoughts, and I wanted to spread my legs for him, to feel his weight on top of me, surrounding me, pushing inside of me. What would that feel like?

Unlike anything I’d ever known.

And somehow, I instinctively knew that Rory was a master of his craft. That he had the ability to play my body like an instrument and make the most beautiful music come from my mouth.

He fed me another bite, this time, a chunk of his fried cod sandwich. He pushed the fish into my mouth and followed it with his fingers. I licked the tartar sauce and the grease from his skin with my tongue. I wanted to suck but felt like that was too forward. The tiny little lick would have to suffice. A sound rumbled in his chest, and I knew how much he enjoyed the flick of my tongue.

“Mmm.” I licked my lips clean. “The malt vinegar and tartar tastes delicious.”

Although, I bet he tasted even better.

I decided then and there, as I stared up into his eyes, dark and rich as molasses, that I definitely wanted another date with him. But I wouldn’t ask for it. I would let Rory continue to chase me a little longer. It was a novel feeling for me. Why shouldn’t I enjoy a little more of his attention?

We fell into a long discussion about the training he received in self-defense and some of the specific times he had to use his knowledge in the field, all while his broad fingertips stroked my scalp. His stories fascinated me. Maybe I was putting him on a pedestal, but I thought of him as my own superhero, like Steven Segal, or Jean-Claude Van Damme. Which was impractical and absurd. But tell that to my overactive imagination.

The air turned slightly chilly as the sun sank lower on the horizon, reminding us that our time was coming to an end. We both needed to shower and change before work. Rory bagged our garbage while I rolled up the blanket. Then I followed him back to his bike and secured my helmet before climbing on behind him. But this time, I held on a little tighter around his waist. Rested my cheek against his back.

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