by Cd Brennan
That shit was starting now.
She tested out the buzzed feeling. Her limbs felt heavy and floaty at the same time. The room was a bit too bright so she switched off the light so that only the glow of the television lit the room. When she moved, she felt like a goddess, voluptuous and alluring to the male sex. She was bold, brazen, a vixen.
He wanted her like she wanted him. She could tell by the way he stood there all manly, posing for her in front of the TV while he watched some critical moment in the game. He flexed his arm as he raised his beer to his lips. The backlight from the TV outlined his face, a slightly upturned nose. Full lips. Phew. Grace fanned herself. It was getting hot.
Hiccup.
“Why don’t you sit here?” She patted the couch next to her.
He’d started to sit just as she’d asked her question so that he was frozen like a statue squatting, hovering over the chair. For some reason, it tickled her funny bone and she laughed. And then she couldn’t stop. She kept laughing even as he straightened and eyed her like she’d gone crazy.
Hiccup.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Didn’t he already ask her that? She was fine! Better than fine. She was the Goddess Divine, and he was just playing hard to get. “I’m fabulous”—hiccup—“now sit your fine booty right down next to me here, mister.” She patted the cushion again for good measure.
Rory hesitated only a moment before he sat on the couch, on the farthest cushion on the other side, not as close as she wanted, but he was most likely being coy, perhaps even a gentleman. Now that would be a novelty in her life.
He burped silently into his hand before he opened the new can. Wow, she was in the company of a gentleman. All her guy friends back home would have belched the alphabet and then congratulated each other with big whumps on each other’s backs.
He held up his can to her. “Cheers.”
She couldn’t be rude. She clinked her can with his and finished off her third beer. She was damn proud of herself. All her family and friends would have snatched the booze out of her hands if she’d been at home. And here she was on her third, and no problems at all. Hiccup.
The second half started, but Grace was more interested in the man next to her. She shifted so she now faced him. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, his head resting on the back of the couch. The movements on the TV reflected in the glaze of his eyes.
“Did you play for college?” She inched closer until she was halfway on the middle cushion.
He rotated his head on the couch to look at her briefly before he returned his attention to the game. “It’s not the same as it is here. Universities don’t have big sports teams that lead to the professional sport. I played rugby when I was at the University of Stirling but it wasn’t competitive enough for my dad. But I loved it. It was a great laugh and no pressure. Best four years of my life was in Stirling. The last couple years I even lived off campus. Pure magic, it was.”
“What did you study?” She slurred a bit on the last word, but when he looked at her, she smiled and fluttered her eyelashes at him.
His brows creased in confusion. Maybe her signals had to be stronger to let him know it was okay. She was into him like he was into her. She shifted until she sat sideways to him, her knees flush against his thighs, her elbow on the back of the couch, her chin propped in her hand. That was much better. Her head didn’t spin so much. Hiccup. “As you were saying?”
He looked at her briefly before he faced front again at the TV. “Management. My da would only pay for it if it had something to do with rugby.”
Grace made a face at that. “Well, it was nice of him to pay. My folks didn’t give me a dime, and I still owe like a hundred grand on my student loans.”
“Seriously? That’s pure pish.”
“Yeah, it sucks.” She grabbed his beer out of his hand and took a swallow before handing it back. Then she held her breath, hoping the hiccups would go away. But they didn’t, and her body lurched with the force of one that escaped.
Not only were her and Rory practically cuddling, but they were now having a deep-and-meaningful. Grace knew what that led to. They were almost there, so she’d just help them along a little bit. She moved her hand to his neck where she rested it briefly before she massaged back and forth. She wasn’t great at massage, but it was awesome to touch him. He was warm.
He closed his eyes.
“Are you an only child?”
He opened his eyes in a snap. “How did you guess?”
“Just lucky. So your dad wanted you to come play in the States? That seems odd.”
“It was one of my choices. Either here or Argentina, and I don’t speak Spanish. I get paid a small stipend from the Blues club. Not much, but my da can at least tell his mates I’m a professional player.”
Grace realized she had stopped rubbing his neck and began again. “Are you close to your dad?”
He didn’t say anything for a moment before answering. “Not really. But I expect him any day now. He likes to drop in when he is in the States for business to check up on me.”
“Lawd, how old are you?”
“You dinnae have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Rub my neck.”
Oh shit, and here she thought she was being all sexy like. “Don’t you like it?”
“I do, but you dinnae have ta…ya know...”
He motioned at the back of his head where she now drew her palm up and down his hair. Everything seemed magnified. The feel of the bristles on her palm, the warmth off his body, his smell, like that of Texas after a much needed rain. Earthy, strong.
When she leaned in closer for more, he turned his face to her. They were barely apart, closer than they’d been after she tackled him. And in his intense stare, her body and mind sobered.
What was she doing?
Gracie, do this.
She barely knew him.
Just one kiss.
She had no idea what he was thinking.
Go for it. That’s what you came here for!
She wanted to touch his lips so bad it hurt.
Gracie, girl, carpe diem. Don’t think about it!
Grace took a deep breath. Then she kissed him.
Chapter 6
Her mouth was soft.
He hadn’t expected the kiss; it was the last thing he thought she’d do. Obviously, she had more guts than he did, loads more. He envied her.
That one kiss had his body buzzing, awake to the possibilities that would come next. When her lips left his, with effort, he opened his eyes. She still sat there on his lap where she had climbed, her lips puckered, eyes closed. The noise from the rugby commentator infiltrated his senses. No more rugby. No more. He located the remote and clicked off the telly. The screen blinked to black, and then heavenly quiet, the only light coming from down the hall in the kitchen.
At the silence, her eyes flew open.
Was she waiting for him to kiss her back? In the semi-darkness, he couldn’t read her eyes. He wanted to. If he had half of Padraig’s looks and half of Del’s charms, he would have her naked by now. Maybe he should have spent less time practicing rugby and more time practicing the seduction of a woman. If nothing else, he’d have to jack off less in the shower.
Fuck. She looked so soft sitting there, sweet like a scone with jam. Comforting like a down duvet. Necessary like a cuppa tea.
“I’m going to kiss you again,” she said.
“Okay.”
This time she snuggled in and wrapped her arms around his neck. After one last glance at his lips, she dove in. Her mouth hit his hard at first, but then grew softer as they found their rhythm. His cock stretched to meet her. She must feel it through her leggings since he only wore light trackies.
Aye, she did. She moaned as she settled herself on top of him. When he squeezed her breasts through her hoodie, she moved against him. His conscience vaguely prodded at him, reminding him this probably wasn’t a great idea, but G
race was right here and he wanted her badly. When her nipples peaked, he rubbed his thumbs over both, totally lost to the feel of the buds through the cloth. He kept circling, chafing the fabric against her nipples until Grace gasped and arched into his hands.
With the sexy sound she made, his hunger grew fierce, and he pulled her mouth to his. So much better than the last kiss. Full lips, soft tongue. So much softness in a woman. When he yanked her into his chest, she wound her fingers through his hair and tipped back his head. That was better. Much better access to her mouth. Grasping her hips, he rolled into her crotch, and God, the fire that it created.
From her waist, Rory stroked his hands up her back underneath her hoodie, shoving the fabric up as he went. He tugged it over her head, only breaking the kiss at the last second to let her shirt pass. He tossed it onto the floor.
“What if Del comes home?” Barely a whisper from her as he once again assaulted her mouth. She had this way of dancing her tongue with his. Caressing and then withdrawing to suck on his lips. God, he needed to practice.
He’d get her bra off smooth. He only had to wrestle with the clasp at her back for a second before it came free. Gently, he pulled the straps forward and the simple white bra slid away. No lace or frills, just basic, but fuck, what it had hidden underneath. Perfection in tits, so full and perky, her dark nipples wrinkled and puckered by the air.
“He won’t be home until late.” He swallowed hard and dragged in a breath to steady himself. Fuck. He could pass out just at the sight of them. Slowly, he raised his hands and cupped both breasts, squeezed, moved her nipples around with his thumb like on a game controller.
When she moaned, he raised his eyes to her face and, for a moment, he stopped. Her eyes were full of such sadness, a dip in her brow. Or was that ecstasy? He’d never paid much attention before, but should have. As he stalled, his indecision became so painful he had to move. Holding her gaze, he watched her reaction as he leaned forward and sucked in one nipple. But it wasn’t enough. He mouthed as much breast as he could, sucking deep. Fuck, he never wanted to stop.
Her head fell back. “Aw, dayum. That feels good.”
He only let go so he could move to her other breast. And when he did, she pulled his head in closer to her chest, groaning, gasping. She swore.
His cock ached, and in his need for relief, ground himself into her crotch, pulling hard against her bum.
She went at his mouth, no hesitation now, only the sweet force of her tongue. He was rallied by her next gasp and dipped his hand under her panties and cupped her mound.
But then she stilled his hand. “Rory.”
“Sorry, too hard?”
“No…that’s not it. I don’t feel well.”
When she lifted her face, it was as pale as a ghost, a sheen of perspiration reflecting from the light of the hallway. “Too much beer I think.”
Grace lurched off the top of him, grabbed her clothes from the floor, and raced toward the stairs. He could hear her heavy footsteps as she climbed, and then overhead as she turned and ran toward her room.
He sat there, his body revolting. He was hard as a rock and sick to his stomach. After the haze of lust subsided, immediate disappointment filled his chest. Not that they hadn’t finished what they’d started, but at how he had treated her. He shouldn’t have drunk so much. He shouldn’t have taken advantage of the situation. His life was swirling in an uncontrollable mess. First the rugby and now Grace. His head was spinning so he rested it on the back of the couch.
Should he go after her? See if he could help? Just as he staggered upward from the couch, the door burst open and in walked Del, heavily drunk by the fumbling of his keys, his lurching movements.
Rory sat back down again to hide his erection.
“Hey there, bro. What you up to?” He burped loudly, the smell reaching Rory from just a few feet away.
“Nothing.” Nothing.
Chapter 7
“I can’t wait until we can have our coffee on the porch. I’m tired of being trapped inside like this. Back home I’d be sitting on the back deck, the sun beatin’ down, the korimoko birds singing their hearts out.”
Del chucked an imaginary rugby ball at Rory, who pretended to catch, just like they did all the time around the house, at the pub, shops, well…pretty much everywhere, this morning with a bit less energy than other days.
He “tossed” the ball back, which Del then “caught.” If he didn’t like Michigan, why wasn’t Del back home then? Actually, nix that. He couldn’t think of Del and his home in New Zealand right now. He could barely function from the hangover. Four cans. That was all it took. What a disgrace he was. Rory skipped his morning smoothie in lieu of coffee, which he very badly needed, and hoped that Del wouldn’t notice. He moved quietly for the mug and the coffee maker while Del plucked at his laptop on the table.
“Bro, I thought I was up before you.”
“You were.”
“So why aren’t you drinking that nasty mess you do every morning?”
No luck this morning. His back to Del, Rory shrugged. He really didn’t want to commit to this conversation.
“Are you sick?”
“Nah.”
“Are you hungover?”
A little, but that wasn’t it. “Nah.”
Del pushed out the other chair with his foot so Rory could sit. “Are you going through the change?”
Rory sat. “What?”
“You aren’t dressed either.”
Grace walked in just then. And unlike Del and Rory still in their pajamas, she was already in leggings, a fleece, and big socks. Well, sorta dressed. But her hair was sleek, not sleepy mussed, and she was all perky and awake. “Mornin’.”
Both Del and Rory responded the same, Rory sneaking quick peeks as he took sips from his mug.
“Coffee?” Del asked her.
“That would be great, thanks.”
“Mugs to the right of the sink. Coffee—”
“I see ’em. Thanks.”
Rory wanted to say something to her about last night, but not in front of Del.
“So you heading to the gym today, Rory?” Del asked.
“Maybe.”
Grace took a seat next to Rory across from Del. “I’m going hiking today if y’all want to go.”
Del looked up from his computer with a look of bemusement on his face. “Now why would we want to do that?”
“I’ll go.”
Both looked to Rory, Grace with a smile half hidden behind her mug.
“For cross training.”
Del grunted. “There are a thousand other things I can think to do on a Sunday, and that’s not one of them.”
Grace took her coffee black unlike Rory’s milk and one sugar. “Ya know, they say one hour in nature is equivalent to a half hour with a therapist.”
Del turned into a storm cloud, dark and threatening. “So are you saying your roomies need mental help?”
Grace batted away his comment. “Not at all. Maybe I was talking about myself.” She smiled big.
Del scraped his chair as he got up. He lumbered to the sink and dropped his mug on the counter with a clunk. Rory wished he would at least rinse it. Del was messy, leaving crap everywhere. “Well, you two have fun. With all the snow melt, you’ll be slogging through a bunch of mud. It’s fucking cold outside.” He walked out, but over his shoulder he added, “And whoever drank my beer, replace it by this evening.”
Rory had followed Del’s exit with his gaze, but when he looked back at Grace in the ensuing silence, she was watching him. She smiled, just a little one where the corners of her mouth pinched. “You still up for it?”
With Grace, definitely. “It’s still exercise, right?”
She chuckled. “Yup, and I plan on taking a looong hike, so you know. You’ll get plenty of burn in those buns.”
Then an awkward silence sat at the table with them. Rory fiddled with his teaspoon, twirling it in a circle on the table while Grace blew at her mug of cof
fee cupped in her hands. She got up suddenly and went to the sink where she poured off some coffee and added some cold water from the tap.
When she sat back down again, she wouldn’t look at him. He wanted to say something to make things better, but didn’t know where to begin. He drank down his coffee in one gulp. “I’m sorry—”
“Nope. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped your bones.” She playfully punched him in the arm. “I think we both had too much to drink.”
Rory still clung to his empty mug with both hands. “No, seriously, I shouldnae taken it so far.”
“Really, it’s okay. Maybe I wanted it, too.”
Maybe. Only maybe. In her effort to appease him, she’d unknowingly made him feel heaps worse. Not her fault, of course, but in the history of Rory’s hatred of himself, this morning was at the top of the list.
“Why don’t we get a move on? I’ll finish my coffee while you get ready.”
When Rory didn’t move, Grace clapped her hands twice. “Chop, chop, time is a’wastin’.” She smiled at him to let him know she wasn’t serious, but he took it seriously. He jerked out of the chair, washed his cup at the sink, and then said, “I’ll only be a minute.”
Not waiting for a response, Rory jogged up the stairs. He quickly dressed, brushed his teeth, and rugged up in some outdoor gear. When he was finished, he found Grace in the kitchen over a map on the table. She was dressed in another coat layer, hat, gloves, and her camouflage boots from the day before. “Have you been hiking anywhere around here?”
Rory shook his head. “Nope, sorry. I can’t remember the last time I went hiking.”
Grace tisked. “That’s a damn shame. You’ve been missin’ out.”
“Actually, I do remember. One summer I did do some hill running up a monroe in the highlands when I was on holidays with my folks. My da’s idea, of course.” Why he wanted to impress her, he didn’t know, but her disapproval meant the world to him for some reason. “That was hard as fuck.”
At her raised eyebrows, he remembered his manners in front of a woman. “I mean it was very strenuous.”
Grace laughed. “Don’t worry about swearing around me. I have two older brothers, and I hung out with them and their friends all the time.”
