Rory melted into her, pushing his face into the crook of her neck. Inhaling. “Yeah?”
“Uh huh.”
“Turns out the one thing worse than watching you fall down is seeing you scared of me. Really scared. Like you didn’t know me.”
“I wasn’t scared of you, Rory. I was scared for you.”
He lifted his head, searching her face with a questioning expression.
Olive gave in to her impulses, sliding her hands up beneath his T-shirt and resting them on his chest, thrilling at the way his heart kicked into an erratic rhythm under her palms. “When you told me about the man you put in the hospital, you were so sad. I don’t think you like fighting. I was scared tonight of you doing something else you’d regret.” Her fingernails moved in a light circle over his heart. “You got it backwards. I was looking at you like I knew you.”
Rory stared down at her. “If you keep looking at me just like this, I’ll never use my fists again.” Finally, he rode his open mouth over hers, letting their tongues flick together, dance away and stroke back, the kiss deepening on a mutual groan. Olive’s back was pressed to the boardwalk rail, Rory’s right arm sliding between the barrier and her hips, urging her up and into the cradle of his body. When her tummy met the stiffness behind the fly of his jeans, she broke the kiss on a gasp, her head falling back and allowing Rory to raze the curve of her neck with his teeth, his forearm yanking her up on her toes. Closer, close as humanly possible.
“Rory.”
His mouth traveled lower and Olive felt damp heat through the thin silk of her tank top, right over her nipple. Felt his lips close around the bud, a male groan vibrating her head to toe. His hair was a mess by the time their mouths were level again, his eyes glazed. “Yeah, baby?”
Olive gathered her courage and reached for the thing she needed more than oxygen in that moment. Him. Them. Alone. “Do you have the ingredients at your house to make me a white Russian?”
A small fraction of the lust displayed on his face was replaced by hesitancy—and Olive’s stomach twisted at the proof that he was still not a hundred percent into this. Them. Still thought she was too young, he was too wrong. Too bad. That his past had caused too much damage. Whatever the reason, her guard was already shooting back into place to prevent the inevitable hurt—
“Yeah. I’ve got the ingredients to make a minor a drink.” With a dry half-smile, he twined their fingers together and tugged her toward the boardwalk steps, which led to the sidewalk and the town beyond. “Come on, sunbeam. Let’s go break the law.”
CHAPTER TEN
Rory inhaled deeply and held his breath, just so Olive’s fingertips would bite into his chest. Fuck, it felt amazing. Her thighs were wrapped around his hips and the purr of his bike’s engine caused just enough friction to poke holes in his self-control. Thank God, too. Lust was distracting him from the possibility of getting in an accident. They were only riding fifteen blocks and he’d given her his helmet. At nearly one in the morning, the avenues were quiet. He’d never been in so much as a scrape on his bike. And yet, there was a fine layer of sweat on his skin over having the responsibility of Olive holding on to him for her safety, his eyes straining while searching for potholes or jaywalkers on the road ahead.
Was he actually bringing Olive home?
Forget the fact that the Prince bachelor pad needed a serious facelift and Olive was probably used to much finer surroundings. He was more worried about what happened when they arrived. Would she stay the night?
Rory’s molars ground together as blood rushed below his belt. Jesus, he hadn’t forgotten over the last two weeks what it was like to kiss Olive, but he must have suppressed the full experience of it so he wouldn’t lose his mind while staying away from her. When her mouth opened beneath his, the rush was potent enough to clear his mind of anything but getting more. Absorbing the texture of her mouth, the flesh under his hands. His sole purpose became giving and taking and giving and taking until normal functions like breathing became an afterthought. She was breathing.
A large part of Rory still warned him to stay away from Olive. She was the kind of girl a man worked a lifetime to keep. He’d only been busting his ass for two weeks. That was nothing. He’d done nothing to deserve the trusting hands molded to his chest. The stigma of his past choices would always follow him around and, in turn, Olive, if they stayed together.