Jesus, Bay. Just … Jesus!
She’d freaked.
About what?
A finger in her ass?
Possibly a cock?
Urg!
Like it was such a big deal!
Rory had been into the moment. She’d been into the moment. His comment about fucking her tight, gorgeous ass hadn’t turned her off—it’d sent a wave of heat through her. Had jolted her in a good way. But the reality of the situation …
He didn’t do it, Bay.
Yeah. There was that. He’d seemed perfectly content to get it on with her again while she was on top. Had said he wasn’t doing anything she’d asked him not to do.
And he’d been right.
It was just that the whole scenario had thrown her. And then when he’d sat up and she could feel every single, solid inch of him filling her …
Good Lord.
It’d felt spectacular. He’d felt spectacular. And she’d thrilled over how big and wide and so scorching hot he was inside her.
But it’d been too late. She’d already been jilted off course and instantly felt like she had no idea what the hell she was doing and, really, that had just sent her into a mental tailspin.
For him to think she’d been a virgin before Christian …
Well, didn’t that just scream hick from the sticks? Small-town girl in the big city who had no fucking clue whatsoever about what awaited her around every corner—no fucking clue as to how real men wanted to be satisfied.
Rory wanted to fuck her ass.
Well, gee, Bay. What had you expected? Polite, civil sex from a man who actually yells at people for a living?
She lifted her head. Rolled her eyes at her own idiocy.
Yanked out more money from her purse to pay the fare, since Phillip and Colin’s loft wasn’t far from Rory’s neighborhood and they’d just arrived.
She paid and then carted her books up the short steps that led to a double door. She pressed the buzzer and waited for one of the guys to let her in. They were expecting her, since she’d forgotten to cancel. Because she’d been too swept away by Rory St. James taking her to the farmers’ market, wanting to cook dinner with her, kissing her, fucking her …
Unfortunately, she was early, but Bayli didn’t intend to stay long. Just make apologies for bowing out in person. Well, and get one big, fat hug from Colin. She desperately needed it.
When the lock sprang free, she entered the large foyer and headed to the door straight ahead, one of five in the conglomeration. She rang that buzzer as well and announced herself. Another lock released. Bayli deposited her stack on a chair in the entryway and climbed the polished wooden stairs with a stylish runner down the middle and crested the landing.
Phillip greeted her with a friendly smile and a glass of wine.
“I’m so sorry to be stopping by early,” she immediately said. And accepted the wine. She sipped, then hurriedly told him, “I don’t mean to interrupt all your prepping for your dinner party. I just … I just…”
Oh, crap.
Emotion welled within her. Tears burned the backs of her eyes.
“Bayli, what—”
“Who’s here, darling?” Colin in his extreme loveliness—mocha skin, neatly trimmed hair, manicured nails, and impeccable attire of pressed dark-blue slacks and ecru-colored sweater—came from the kitchen. He drew up short at the sight of Bayli and clapped his hands together. In a British accent thicker than Phillip’s, because he’d been born in London, he said, “Perfect! It’s the angel heaven is missing!”