Page 41 of Vodka And Virtue

I climbed into bed and sat with my legs crossed, watching as Rory stripped off his jeans. He had gone without a shirt since the garden incident, and I hadn’t stopped staring at his body since. His arms were just so thick. It would take both of my hands to circle his bicep. His chest was toned and hard, covered in dark hair with small brown nipples. But his stomach… My fingers itched to touch the furry soft skin. Not as much hair as on his chest, just a dusting, but he looked so…masculine. The skin over his hip was also soft like his stomach, plumping just slightly over the waist of his jeans, and I had the strangest urge to sink my teeth into his skin. I wanted to bury my face into his stomach and fall asleep there, using it as a pillow. The skin of his back was smooth, some of the muscles still cut and toned, and his body was decorated in colorful ink everywhere. My fingers itched to trace the beautiful designs.

Rory was a tempting mix of hard and soft, hairy and smooth, and I wanted to discover everything about him and commit it to memory.

He left his navy blue boxer briefs on and disappeared into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Again, I was struck by the sense of intimacy. I was sitting in this man’s bed, in his home, watching as he went about his evening routine. Never before in my life have I been this close and involved with a man, aside from the ones of my family. Nor had I felt this undercurrent of intimacy when I had slept at my girlfriends’ houses.

Something was different with Rory. The bond was stronger, more magnetic, an invisible force pulling me in his direction.

The importance of every little action and reaction between us felt so significant. Like it was shaping our future.

This wasn’t a casual hook up or a one night stand. Rory wasn’t looking for a bit of fun. This was the beginning of something permanent. A relationship that would endure throughout the remaining years of our lives. That was what he wanted.

And he wanted it withme.

If I put aside my protestations and inhibitions about this all being so new and unfamiliar, put aside the differences between us that widened the gulf considerably, I could admit to wanting the same thing.

With him.

He was gentle and patient. Smart and understanding. Strong and selfless. And just dangerous enough to keep my dick hard constantly.

He climbed into bed and reclined against a pillow that he propped up against the headboard. “Would you like to watch a movie or the news?”

“I’d rather talk, if it wouldn’t bother you.”

Rory slid his hand over mine. “I would rather talk, as well. There’s so much about you I want to know.”

I popped a grape into my mouth, biting down into the sweet juiciness. “Like what?”

“Anything. Everything. Your favorite color. Your best childhood memory. Tell me about your mother.”

A smile spread across my lips. “My favorite color is magenta. I had so many wonderful childhood memories that I couldn’t begin to pick a favorite. My mother is a doll.”

“She is. I’ve known her for years because she’s Graham’s sister. We got along well. And I love that magenta is your favorite color. It’s unique and fiery, like you.”

I laughed self-consciously. “I wouldn’t describe myself as fiery. If I were a color, I would be yellow or powder blue.”

“Really? Is that how you see yourself? I definitely see you as magenta or a bright bold orange.” He lifted my hand and traced each one of my fingers. “You have passion and a heart of gold. You are loyal and generous, and so fucking creative. Don’t paint yourself as some pastel color that has faded out.”

I felt my throat constrict with emotion from the beautiful words he used to describe me. I had never seen myself that way. Maybe he brought it out of me? Perhaps I was the best version of myself when I was around him.

“I know black is your favorite color. But I wouldn’t describe you as black. I see you more as navy or royal purple.”

Rory laughed. “This has to be the oddest conversation I’ve ever had.”

I smiled. “Probably.”

“So why navy or dark purple?”

“Because I see you as this strong protector, who is also loyal and generous, yet you have so many hidden layers to your personality that bring color to your soul.”

“You have such a way with words, Carly.”

His voice was husky and full of gravel. His tone suggested he was tired of talking about colors and personality traits. He had other things on his mind. Rory turned my hand over and placed a kiss inside my palm. His lips lingered on my skin, and I scooted closer. Within seconds, he hoisted me effortlessly over his lap to straddle his thighs. His cock was hard and pushed against the thick fabric that covered my ass. I grabbed onto his shoulders, and then my hands trailed down his chest, teasing his nipples. His gaze remained focused on my face as I explored him.

“I’m proud of you for having the courage to agree to stay the night with me.”

I exhaled a deep breath, my shoulders sagging with relief. “I like when you say things like that to me. Nobody has ever spoken to me like that before. Of course, I felt like I was supposed to say I should go home because I always do what’s expected of me instead of what I want.”

“What do you want, Carly?”

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