Rough Around the Edges

by Ranae Rose

  “Fine.”

  “Your migraine is gone?”

  “Yeah.” His stomach clenched, as if he might puke again. But there was nothing left inside it, and he willed the feeling to pass as he cracked several eggs over the second frying pan. “Sorry about last night. Guess I put you through hell.”

  “It’s all right.” She sounded just like she had the night before – sure. She didn’t move as she stood beside him, watching him instead of watching him cook.

  He could feel her gaze on the side of his face but couldn’t meet it. Not yet.

  A bubble of wry humor rose up inside him. “It wasn’t how I envisioned our second date ending. If you’d told me yesterday that I’d be cooking breakfast for you in the morning, I would’ve assumed things had gone a lot better.”

  “I hope you don’t mind that I stayed. I didn’t know what else to do.” For the first time, there was a note of uncertainty in her voice.

  “I’m sorry I ruined our date.” He finally stopped messing with the bacon and faced her. “But I’m not sorry you’re here.” Even though a part of him wanted to be, he wasn’t.

  For a few seconds, she just stood there, holding his gaze. He knew exactly what her eyes looked like, had practically memorized the color the first time he’d met her. They still took him by surprise. There was just something about waking up and looking into them after spending the night with her, even if the night had been a disaster.

  “Neither am I.”

  He turned away then. He had to. Not just because the eggs were in danger of burning on one side, but because the truthfulness in her eyes had seared him, scared him. Why wasn’t she sorry?

  It didn’t make any sense. She didn’t make any sense, and that just made him want her more. But how long could that last? She wasn’t irrational. She was smart. This couldn’t be what she wanted. “Two sunny-side up eggs coming right up.”

  She took a seat at the nearby table and he was able to breathe and think. Not that it did him much good. Inhaling the aromas rising from the frying pans only made him ravenous and there was no making any sense of Ally’s motivations, unless he considered that she was some sort of saint.

  An angel, maybe. Her hair was mussed from sleeping on the couch and a halo of fine, unruly curls rose up around her skull, catching the light and glowing like a golden-brown aura around her head.

  He made her a plate and carried it to the table. “Here you go.”

  He relaxed a little when she accepted the plate and began to eat. It meant she’d stay a little longer, and he couldn’t deny he was glad.

  A minute later, he joined her, a second plate in hand. “I’ve got coffee brewing. It’ll be ready soon.”

  “Sounds great.”

  He didn’t mean to touch her, but his knee brushed her thigh as they ate – that was just how small the table was. He’d bought it because it’d been cheap and he hadn’t needed anything bigger. In that moment, he wouldn’t have traded the crappy little fold-out for anything.

  Of course, breakfast would eventually end. He’d be better off not getting caught up in a fantasy that involved laying her across the table, pressing his lips against hers and tasting her mouth … for starters. There were a lot of things they could’ve done on the table if it’d been a little sturdier. A counter would probably be a safer bet. “Do you want me to drive you straight home later, or to the gym?”

  She stopped chewing and her eyes widened, lending her a look of mild surprise. “To the gym, I guess.”

  Did she really think he still wasn’t capable of driving? Shit. “Great. That way I’ll be there for sure to help you practice those kicks.” She’d see that she was wrong, that he was fine when he wasn’t reeling from a brutal headache. Mostly.

  “You don’t have to do that. After last night, you’d be better off getting some rest.”

  Her words hit him like a blow to the gut, one that left him feeling vaguely nauseous. When he frowned, the motion tugged at the corners of his head wound and the butterfly bandage that held it shut. The twinge of pain was nothing compared to the agony of her treating him like an invalid.

  “Look, I’m sorry I freaked you out last night. But I’ve had a hundred of those headaches if I’ve had one. I know what I’m capable of, and I’ll be fine coaching you for an hour or two.” The only way to make her realize that he was fine was to show her that he was fine, and there was no way in hell he’d let her talk him out of doing that.

  She glanced down at her nearly clean plate. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to be bossy. Have you been living with those migraines for long?”

  “Almost a year.” He pressed his lips tightly together. They were treading dangerously close to exactly what he didn’t want to talk about. Not yet. It would be better to tell her exactly why he was so fucked up later, when the memory of him crumpled and bloody at her feet on the kitchen floor wasn’t so fresh in her memory. He just couldn’t take another one of her well-meant suggestions to rest, or her sympathetic looks. And she was so nice that she’d be bound to give him both if he confessed.

  “That’s too bad. I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”

  He worked his lips far enough apart to form a response. “Yeah.”

  She let it go, and the burden of impending confession slid from Ryan’s shoulders as he picked up their empty plates and placed them in the sink.

  As he turned, she excused herself to the bathroom, leaving him alone in the kitchen.

  He reclaimed his chair, sinking down onto the cushionless seat and propping his elbows on the tabletop. Though she was in another room, his thoughts clung stubbornly to her. He no longer felt sick, but his stomach churned with a potent combination of guilt and longing. She’d been fucking wonderful. He knew that, it was just hard to think past his pride and admit it.

  He couldn’t for the life of him figure out why she’d stuck around so long, but she had, and her selflessness shook him to his core. He could still feel her fingers at his hairline, gently wiping away the blood and securing the bandage that still lingered there, holding his broken skin together. He’d thanked her, but only briefly. She deserved more than that – what, exactly, he wasn’t sure.

  The bathroom door creaked on its aged hinges and his heart rate began a slow climb at just the thought of her. When he actually laid eyes on her face, his heart slammed against his ribs and stayed there, beating hard against bone and flooding his veins with a longing so severe it almost crippled him.

  “Ally…” He had to say her name, had to hear her say something back.

  She stood in the kitchen, near the edge of the linoleum, but still close enough to him that he could see the way the sunshine coming through the kitchen window lit up her eyes. “What is it?”

  It only took two steps to cross the space between them. When he reached her, he placed his hands on her sides and slid them down, caressing her and pulling her close at the same time. She tipped her head back and he lowered his, crushing his mouth against hers. He didn’t hold back this time, like he had in the theater parking lot. They’d gone way beyond normal dating patterns and progress. For better or for worse, they’d never go back.

  She wanted him too – he didn’t know why, but it was evident in the way she responded, leaning into him and parting her lips, and it was intoxicating. He thrust his tongue inside her mouth, refamiliarizing himself with her taste.

  He demanded her attention and she gave it, slipping her tongue along the length of his and past his lips and teeth. When he slid his hands lower, down onto her hips, she opened her mouth wider, keeping nothing from him.

  He moaned and pulled her so tight against him that his dick pressed into her belly. She wasn’t exactly soft there by normal standards, but compared to the steel rod his cock had become, she was. And she was so, so warm.

  He broke the seal of their kiss and leaned back so he could get a good grip on her and lift her without hurting her. She was light and her body was pliant in his hands – lifting her was simple and felt right. Grippi
ng her by her hips, he lifted until she was a little above his eye level.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist, and for a split second, he was breathless, paralyzed. He could feel his pulse in every inch of his body, or was that hers? She was so close, right up against him, her thighs exerting hot pressure on his sides.

  He turned, facing the island countertop at the edge of the kitchen, and lowered her onto it. It was the nearest surface, and sturdy enough to hold up to just about anything.

  He kept his hold on her hips and stood between her thighs. The counter put her hips level with his and the perfect height and angle filled his head with thoughts so intense it felt like he might spontaneously combust if he didn’t get inside her.

  But he’d take his time, even if it killed him. He could do anything if it meant not fucking up their first time, because the thought of it being their one and only was unbearable.

  Pressing his mouth to hers, he unzipped her jacket and peeled it from her body, letting it pool on the counter behind her. Her long-sleeved tee was soft and gloriously thin. Her body heat radiated through it and he could feel the solidness of her ribs underlying flesh so tempting he wanted to rip the fabric away.

  Instead, he ran his hands up her sides, the skin on the back of his neck prickling with pleasure as his fingertips met the lower swells of her breasts.

  Holy fuck, she was wearing a bra, but it was paper-thin. Lace, judging by the faintly ridged texture. Lace so insubstantial that his fingertips dented her flesh and he could feel her heartbeat. Her nipples were as hard and easily-felt as pebbles. He rubbed his fingertips over the stiff buds and couldn’t stop. Taking his time, he massaged them, his dick growing harder by the nanosecond.

  Her thighs trembled faintly against his hips as her heels, still hooked behind his back, dug into the area at the base of his spine, pulling him even closer to her. When he just couldn’t take it anymore, he removed his hands from her breasts and lowered them to the fly of her jeans.

  His hands were mercifully steady as he popped the brass button there through its hole and pulled the zipper, exposing ivory-colored panties. They were smooth against his skin as he let his fingertips rest in the V formed by the teeth of the parted zipper. Microfiber, maybe. It didn’t really matter. All he could think about was getting them off of her.

  The jeans had to come off first. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband, met her eyes and pulled down quickly, sliding them first over her hips and thighs and then down to her ankles. He had to pause to untie and remove her shoes, but moments after that was done her jeans dropped to the floor.

  He ran his hands up her thighs, from her knees to her hips. “Your skin is so soft.” He leaned in and let his lips brush her jaw. They tingled with the urge to taste her, but the drive to give and take pleasure was riding him so hard he bypassed her mouth, dropping to his knees instead.

  The counter was the perfect height. Kneeling between her knees, his mouth was level with her pussy. He could see the perfect mound beneath the skin-tight fabric of her panties, which had been darkened at the crotch by a kiss of dampness. Seeing that made his balls ache, too close to his body for comfort.

  Just like he’d done with her jeans, he hooked his thumbs into the sides of her panties and pulled down. This time, she raised her hips up off the counter, aiding him.

  As he dropped the hot shorts to the floor, he couldn’t help breathing hard. His mouth was only inches from her body. Could she feel his breath on her skin? She arched a little, like she could, and sighed. For a few seconds, he just stared, his gaze frozen on the slick folds of her sex and the bud above.

  She squirmed a little and he dropped his gaze, leaning back.

  Her knee brushed his jaw and he turned his head in response, pressing his lips against her smooth skin. He kissed her lightly at first, but became more and more unable to hold back as he moved upward, blazing a trail up her thigh. Before long he was applying his tongue and teeth, teasing her because the way she trembled in response felt so good he could hardly stand it.

  By the time he reached her pussy, she was breathing harder than he was. He paused and looked up to meet her gaze before going any farther.

  Her eyes were bright and she gasped, her muscles going tense beneath his hands.

  He tightened his grip on her thighs and shut his eyes, leaning in and pressing his mouth against her sex.

  His lips tingled with the shock of her heat and wetness. Her skin was smoother than silk, shaved bare, which allowed him to taste her without barriers, his tongue sliding over the swell of her clit and against the folds below.

  He kept his mouth open, not wanting to miss a second of tasting her. Slipping his tongue between the lips of her pussy and into her channel, his cock throbbed when she tensed around him. If she felt that tight around his tongue, he could only imagine how it’d feel to have her wrapped around his dick. Just thinking about it reminded him how painfully tight his jeans had become.

  At least he wasn’t wearing anything from the waist up. The way her legs rubbed and tensed against his bare shoulders felt good. It would feel even better to have them digging into his sides again, locked around his waist. Next time that happened, he’d be buried to the root inside her, being squeezed there, too.

  He opened his eyes long enough to see that she was gripping the edge of the counter so hard her knuckles were white. Glancing up while circling her clit with his tongue, he nearly froze, momentarily distracted by the look on her face.

  It was a look of ecstasy. He recognized it because it sparked the same feeling inside him, a fierce combination of pleasure and longing that was sure to be satisfied sometime soon. Sooner for her than for him. Redoubling his efforts, he devoured her. There was no other word for it – he craved her and he took as much of her as he could, teasing her clit and the wet folds below mercilessly, until she was arching her back, her hips bucking against his face.

  He relented when her motions became weak and irregular. She was breathless and the tension had gone out of her thighs. He continued to hold onto them as he raised his head, met her eyes and rocked back on his heels.

  His lips were wet with her moisture, and when he touched the tip of his tongue to the lower one, he could taste her clearly. As the sweet, musky flavor flooded his mouth all over again, she gasped, and every breath after that came hard, like she had to fight to breathe.

  He rose and wrapped his arms around her. Her cotton top was soft against the insides of his arms. In his hurry to give her pleasure, he hadn’t taken it off of her. He’d change that soon. For now, the thrill of anticipation was like lightning coursing down his spine, striking an area at the base of it and making every muscle in his body clench.

  She leaned against him and he lowered his head, simultaneously sweeping a handful of her hair out of the way so he could kiss her neck.

  Her pulse jumped against his lips and he settled them deeper into the warm hollow above her collarbone as she sighed. As he let his teeth scrape lightly against her skin, she slid a hand between their bodies and gripped his cock through his jeans, running a thumb down the stiff shaft.

  A bolt of weakness struck his knees and he had to work to stand up straight. The sensation didn’t last. A second later, the same longing that had hardened his cock flooded the rest of his body, making him ache to move – into her, with her. He’d never wanted to fuck so badly. One touch, one stroke of her thumb and he was half-crazy with wanting her.

  His every instinct urged him to get closer, but he forced himself to take a step backward so she’d have an easier time maneuvering her hand.

  She took advantage of the freedom, unbuttoning his jeans and tucking her fingers beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs. When her fingertips slipped over the head of his cock, he moaned.

  She slid her hand lower, grasping his shaft and forming a fist around it, causing his underwear to slide down over his hip bones, along with his jeans.

  He flexed his hips, unable to resist, and hot friction sprang up between her p
alm and his shaft. He bit back a curse as the heat of it swept over his entire being.

  She stroked him and he rocked his hips. Together, they fell into a rhythm that almost had him coming then and there.

  Eventually he pulled back. He had to. “Not here,” he said, easing her fingers off his cock. “Don’t want our first time to be on the kitchen counter.”

  Their fingers tangled together, leaving his cock untouched. The head of it was so close to her pussy he could feel the heat radiating from between her thighs, begging for his presence there. It would be so easy to thrust inside her, to bury himself in her body and forget he’d ever existed anywhere or anyway else.

  The rest of the world was already far away, a blurry memory at the edge of his consciousness. Standing there with his balls aching from the torture of holding back, she was all that mattered – she was the world manifested in one beautiful body, her spread thighs inviting him in in a way life hadn’t in a long time.

  “Maybe the second time,” he said, his fingers sweeping the countertop as he lifted her, “not the first.”

  He lowered her so she could stand beside him but kept an arm around her. No way was he going to stop touching her if he could help it. Not for a single second.

  There wasn’t much in his bedroom, but there was a bed, and that was all they needed. They stepped over the threshold together and he bent to grip her shoulders and kiss her, delving deep into her mouth but keeping it brief because he just couldn’t wait any longer.

  He kicked off his jeans and his underwear, still savoring the taste of her on his tongue, craving more. As soon as he was naked, he embraced her. Her thighs pressed against his and his cock settled against her belly, kept from her skin by the barrier of the shirt he still hadn’t gotten around to taking off of her. He lingered a few seconds longer anyway, breathing in the clean, fruity scent of her shampoo.

  When he’d inhaled several lungfuls he helped her out of her shirt, then set to work on the clasp of her bra, which was a lacy thing, just like he’d guessed. Her nipples stood out dark and tempting beneath the ivory cups, straining the floral pattern. Did she always wear such sexy lingerie or had she put it on specifically for their date?