Page 45 of Falling For The Enemy (The Gilbert Curse)

She rode him, throwing her shoulders back and moving on him slowly at first but then picking up speed. He undid her bra and fondled her breasts underneath it as she gained momentum and then swung toward him with each of her thrusts. She moved faster and harder on him and he found her nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth.

He felt his own climax building and knew he needed more. Taking her hips in his hands, he held her to him as he thrust up into her with frenzied strokes until she cried out his name and he felt her body pulsing on his cock. He drove into her a few more times until he came in a long, hard rush. Emptying himself and cradling her to him as she collapsed against him. Her head on his shoulder, her breath brushing against his neck.

He held her to him, not letting anything but Rory into his mind at this moment.

Rory realized that she couldn’t change what was going to happen between herself and Kit no matter how much worrying or planning she tried to do. The accident had been the kind of concrete proof that her life was on a path that she wasn’t really choosing. But she could make the most of the journey.

Kit lifted her off his lap and sat her on the couch next to him about the time her thighs were beginning to shake. She looked down at her body, seeing the scars and the weakness but also feeling the strength. She’d changed in ways she’d never guessed she could and part of it was because of Kit.

He made her want to be whole—not perfect—just whole. That was a new way of thinking.

“Are you okay?” he asked tenderly.

“Yes. I think my thighs are going to feel it tomorrow,” she said with a smile. Adjusting her skirt, she pulled it back down her legs, taking off her shirt and the unfastened the bra as well.

Kit stared at her breasts and then reached down to cup them. “You’re so pretty.”

She flushed. “Thank you. You are, too.”

“Thanks. I don’t know if anyone has said that before.”

She laughed. No, she guessed they wouldn’t have. Kit was pretty to her, but there was something rough and serious about him as well.

“I’m glad,” she murmured as he lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. “Are you staying tonight?”

“Unless you don’t want me to.”

“I want you to.”

He set her on her feet and she had to use him for balance when she took her skirt off. Her legs weren’t as strong as they’d been earlier in the night and she was okay with that. For once the weakness had come from her actions. Not from the inaction of the coma.

In her mind that made a big difference. They got ready for bed not really talking. Her mind was buzzing with the excitement and affection that came from being in Kit’s arms. She had no idea what he was thinking about.

But she felt she’d pushed him enough for the evening and let him be. When they were in bed and she was cuddled against his side, she felt his hands in her hair.

“I live in a big cookie-cutter mansion in a suburb of Boston. The house is the kind that I know my dad dreamed we’d live in before everything went to crap,” he confided. “It’s not very personal. I had an interior design firm decorate it for me, and when I’m there I pretty much just sleep and sometimes eat standing up in the kitchen.”

She turned her head up so she could see his profile. “That house doesn’t really sound like it suits you.”

“It doesn’t? I guess I figured it’s where a CEO should live,” he said as he wrapped a strand of her hair around his finger.

“Kind of like me and Gilbert Manor,” she told him. “I should have fit in there but I don’t. Not anymore.”

“I’m glad. I really like this version of Rory,” he said.

“Me, too.” She’d been volunteering and figuring out what she wanted her life to look like.

But Kit had a job and a house he didn’t like. “What kind of home suits you? You said your place here isn’t really you either.”

He shrugged, which shifted her on his chest, her nose going into the light dusting of hair on it where the scent of his cologne lingered on his skin. She took a deep breath.

“I’m not sure. I like your place and the stuff we’ve been doing around here to make it into a home. But I’m not really into the antiques like you are,” he said.

“Why not?”

He didn’t answer her for a long moment and she wondered why.

“Just feels too fancy for me.”

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