by Tessa Bailey
“I knew it. I felt you,” she whispered, eyelids fluttering. “Don’t you dare kiss me, Rory Prince. I’m really mad.”
There was nothing worse in the world than staying away from this girl, but having her pissed at him was a damn close second. In that moment, with the gravitational pull between them anchoring him more securely than the Earth’s…he was done keeping a protective distance. Standing in front of her, having her undivided attention, was healing unseen wounds all over his body, making him whole. He needed this. He needed her.
No more staying away. He’d been lucky to make it this long.
“That kid isn’t your boyfriend.” Rory’s breath came faster, his fingers twisting in the hem of her skirt, pure willpower stopping him from yanking her against his lap, the cock thickening behind his fly. Preparing to claim. “Is he, sunbeam?”
Olive’s eyes flashed, her breath shaky as she shook her head no. “I only met him tonight. There’s nothing there.”
Relief adhered to him like a second layer of skin. “Good girl.”
“Shut up.”
Jamie chose that moment to enter, carrying the blue tin first-aid kit. In Rory’s periphery, he saw his brother slow to a stop beside them, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the girl sitting atop the desk. How the fuck had he managed to keep his distance?
“Whoa.” Jamie laughed under his breath. “Are you going to introduce me?”
“Olive,” he managed. “This is my brother, Jamie.”
She put a hand on his chest to push him away, but he intercepted it and pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist instead, noting the way her pupils enlarged. Seemingly with an effort, she managed to turn her head in Jamie’s direction. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, smiling. “I promise I don’t need whatever is in that box.”
Jamie nodded once. “Up to you, Olive. You might want to let us take a quick look, though, since it’s bleeding—”
“Oh!” Olive slid off the desk, bringing herself flush against Rory and he was forced to turn his pained face away, a moan barely subdued in his throat. “I left my friend Leanne out there. We’re buddy system partners. I need to go get her.”
Her obvious distress jolted Rory. “I’ll go grab her.” He lightly touched the cut on Olive’s forehead and winced. “Will you let Jamie bandage this? Please?”
After a moment, she nodded.
“You’ll be here when I get back, right?”
“Yes.”
Reluctant to leave her for a second in case she disappeared, Rory kept his gaze on her as long as possible while backing out of the office. Upon reentering the bar, he saw that the summer night energy had mostly returned to normal, pitchers being hoisted, couples making out near the neon internet jukebox, cigarette smoke drifting in from outside. Andrew was swamped behind the bar, but he waved Rory off in the universal sign for fuck off, I’ll manage. It didn’t take Rory much time at all to find Leanne where she leaned on the wall near the exit, looking worried.
“You can’t just carry girls off like that,” was how she greeted him. “Who told you that was normal?”
Rory scratched the side of his chin and bit back a smile. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t aware the buddy system was in effect.”
She huffed a breath. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m going to make sure she’s okay.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “You want to come see for yourself?”
“No…” For the first time, Rory noticed the white smartphone she juggled from hand to hand. “She just texted me to ask if we can stay a while. But I’m going to get an Uber home. Already called one.”
“Olive wants to stay, does she?” There was no stopping the kick of pleasure and anticipation from filling his belly. Need to get back to her. Need to touch her. He pushed open the exit with his left hand, gesturing for Leanne to precede him. “Come on, I’ll walk you.”
“Fine.” Leanne groused. “I’ll be the thing that earns your brownie points.”
They walked side by side out of the bar and down the ramp of the boardwalk where Leanne’s Uber was waiting. Rory made a quick mental note of the license plate, waved goodnight and turned back toward the bar, already craving the scent of Olive again. But Leanne’s voice drew him up short, forcing him to look back over her shoulder.
“Why didn’t you hit that guy?”
The image of Olive shrinking away from him on the bar floor hit him hard. “I was scaring her. I never want to scare her.”
Leanne opened the rear door of the car. “Fighting is only one of the ways you could do that,” she said tonelessly. “I hope you’re paying attention.”
Rory spent the walk back to the Castle Gate trying to decipher what Leanne meant, but as soon as he walked through the entrance and the promise of Olive’s presence beckoned, it fled to the back of his mind. Later. He’d definitely figure it out later.
CHAPTER NINE
While Olive tried not to stare at the door and wait for Rory to return with Leanne, she remained still and let Jamie swab some Neosporin onto her cut and place a small Band-Aid over the abrasion. He never touched her skin directly, and Olive got the feeling he made the effort out of respect for Rory. Right or wrong, he was possessive of her, even though he’d cut and run weeks ago. Then again…in truth, he hadn’t completely bailed, had he?
Thank God her tingling flesh wasn’t visible because she couldn’t seem to make it stop. She should be righteously pissed that Rory had followed her bus to Stony Brook, but no matter how deep she dug down, trying to find her indignation, she couldn’t locate it. Yes, that kind of behavior was unusual and…intrusive. But if Olive acknowledged the truth? Rory could have had her any time he wanted. Any time he chose to step out of the shadows, she would have become starved for his body heat, same as she’d done tonight in exactly three point eight seconds. He’d truly followed her to class because he was worried. After all, she’d almost walked in front of a bus, come close to drowning…and tonight she’d solidified her standing as World’s Most Accident-Prone Individual. It wasn’t a stretch for Rory to worry, was it?
One thing Olive knew for sure. Knowing Rory had been caring for her from a distance shouldn’t be turning her on so much. Even now, when he wasn’t in the room, she had to concentrate to keep her breathing even. The way he’d carried her into the office, the way he’d looked at her, like all he needed was one word of encouragement and she’d be his next meal.
I should probably stop thinking filthy thoughts with his brother literally two feet away.
Olive watched as Jamie swept the Band-Aid wrappers into his palm and tossed them into the trash. There was no denying she was curious about Rory. She’d had weak moments over the last fourteen days where she’d tried to find him on social media and failed miserably. In the world of Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat and Twitter, he didn’t even exist. She had a few minutes alone with Rory’s brother now. Would it be so bad to satisfy some of her curiosity while she had the chance?
“What’s on your mind?” Jamie asked, before she could say a word. He lifted his head and gave her a half-smile, before posting up against the far wall. Until he struck a casual pose and crossed his arms, Olive hadn’t seen a resemblance. But there it was. That head-tilting smirk Rory had employed on more than one occasion. Same green eyes, too, although Jamie’s held more of a knowing twinkle, as opposed to the raw intensity of Rory’s. All three of the Prince brothers were unique, yet each of them was insanely attractive. It really wasn’t even fair.
Again, Jamie spoke before she got the chance. “He’s probably on the way back. Get those questions in while you can.”
Olive narrowed her eyes at Jamie, taking his measure. He did the same to her. Should she give him the satisfaction? Oh right, like she could help it.
But first. To lull him into a false sense of security. “Do you guys own this place?”
“Rory didn’t tell you?” She shook her head. “Yeah. The three of us own the Castle Gate.” Something flickered in his expre
ssion. “Took it over from my father about four years back.”
She absorbed that. “And the fight that sent Rory to prison…what was it about?”
“Sorry, can’t answer that one.” He winked. “Has to be his choice. Nice try, though.”
“Damn.”
Jamie’s mouth twitched, but his eyes were serious. “Believe me, I’d love to tell you, because it would help you understand him better.”
“Tell me something else that will help me understand him.”
He inclined his head. “He’s been helping manage the bar for the last two weeks. Running payroll, scheduling deliveries, stocking the bar, even dabbling in online advertising. Took over for Andrew so he could focus on the beach.” His expression was one of pure pride. “He’s good at it, too.”
Two weeks, exactly? The change couldn’t have something to do with her, could it?
Jamie pointed at the office door. “I’ve never seen my brother back away from a fight like that. I didn’t think he was physically capable of it.” He raised an eyebrow. “What have you done to him?”
“I haven’t been around to do anything. He made sure I wouldn’t.” She picked a piece of lint off her skirt. “I didn’t even know he worked here. We’re only talking right now out of pure coincidence.”
“Are we?” Jamie pushed off the wall. “You guys have ended up in the same place quite a few times. Maybe it’s less coincidence and more the universe trying to tell you something. And that’s hard for a pragmatic economics teacher to admit.”
“If it’s the universe talking…I wasn’t afraid to listen to it the first time.” She swallowed. “But I am now. I am now that he’s left before. Now that I know how it feels to watch him go.”
Jamie paused near the door, a line forming between his brows. “Trust me when I say that wasn’t easy for him to do,” he said. “And I don’t think he’ll be able to do it again.”
“Yeah, exactly.” She gave him a half-smile. “You don’t think so.”
The door chose that moment to burst open, narrowly missing Jamie and careening off the office wall. Instead of Rory, in burst a giant man in a muscle T-shirt with a naked woman tattooed on his forearm. “What happened? Someone told me there was a fight.” He deflated when he saw Jamie, doubling over and propping his hands on his knees. “Oh shit, man, when I didn’t see you behind the bar I thought you’d gotten caught up in the fight.” He straightened with a too-loud laugh. “So, uh. Okay. Never mind. All’s well that ends well. And you’re…I mean, you seem well, Jamie Prince.” He scrubbed at the back of his neck. “Are you?”
“Yes.” Jamie pinched the bridge of his nose. “Go back to work, Marcus.”
“Yup. Soon as you do.” He crossed his beefy arms, the poster boy for refusing to budge. “Who’s the girl? Did you change your mind about liking dudes?”
Jamie clasped his hands together. “Why yes, it’s just something that happens on a whim.”
Marcus squinted one eye. “Wait. Really?”
“No.” Jamie shoved at the man’s shoulder. “Move it, dumbass. Andrew is probably ready to kill me for leaving him in the weeds this long—and before you ask—no, my brother isn’t really ready to kill me. It’s just an expression.”
A beat passed. “You called me a dumbass.”
Rory’s brother sighed as they both passed through the doorframe. “I’m sorry, Marcus. I didn’t mean it.”
“Okay.”
Olive was still trying to absorb both her conversation with Jamie, followed by the oddly endearing dynamic between him and Marcus, when Rory returned. And yeah, wow. Wow, her thighs just kind of melted into the desk and the oxygen in the room turned as thick as soup. Just like that. Olive wanted to maintain her anger at him, but she couldn’t. Not when he looked so relieved to find her still there. “Where is Leanne?”
“Put her in an Uber. She’s good.” He reached out and caught her hand, massaging her palm with his thumb. An action Olive swore she could feel right between her legs. “Will you come out with me, sunbeam?” Rory murmured into her wrist, letting his tongue snake out and brand her skin. “There’s a place down the street where everyone I know won’t be watching us.”
Should she do this? Open herself up for more potential disappointment and pain?
When she might have said no and let self-preservation win the day, a little reminder piped up in the back of her mind. That damning certainty that she could walk from one end of the earth to the other and no one might make her feel like Rory ever again. This time, though… she needed to keep her guard up.
“Olive?”
She took a bracing breath. “Okay, Rory. For a little while.”
*
Olive hadn’t found any of the bars that night particularly inspiring. Inside they all seemed to look pretty much the same. Flat-screen televisions in every corner, loud conversation, louder music, the same glowing row of jewel tone liquor bottles on the shelves. Since she’d only been inside the Castle Gate for all of two minutes before Zed picked a fight with a stranger who’d stepped on his foot, she wasn’t afforded much of an opportunity to look around. As Rory led her through the crowd and out the door, however, she couldn’t deny something set it apart.
The memorabilia on the walls was from another time. Sawdust decorated the floor and the aroma of it, mixed with spilled beer, made her think of some spirited, medieval gathering. There were televisions, but they weren’t blaring—and one of them actually appeared to be showing classic game show reruns. A traditional Irish song ended and Radiohead began and no one seemed to notice the contrast. Olive did, though. Felt the bass and moodiness of it seep into her veins as they walked out into the cooling night.
A hunger she’d only experienced for this man thrummed in all of her erogenous zones and the nearby ocean sounds tickled her with romance. Lust and romance. That combination would make it especially difficult to keep up her guard. Rory pulled her into the warmth of his body, gently kissing the bandage on her head. “Poor sunbeam.”
Ah geez. Safe to say she was in trouble.
“Where are we going?”
He glanced down at Olive, seeming to choose his words. “You were drinking tonight.”
She made a sound of agreement. “A little.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Kind of. I don’t feel like I’ve found my alcohol soul mate yet, though.” She made a face. “It’s definitely not beer.”
“You’d like a white Russian. It tastes like a milkshake.”
“Are you taking me to get one?”
“No, underage drinker. I’m not.” He tickled her ribs and she half laughed, half gasped at the contact. “I’m not drinking, either. I rode my bike here tonight.” His fingertips brushed up the side of her arm, then stroked back down. “Normally that wouldn’t keep me from having a beer, but not tonight. Not when I’m driving you home.”
Her stomach flipped. “I get to ride on it?”
Rory pulled her to a stop at the boardwalk railing and they faced each other, slow, sticky heat meandering down her breasts and belly. They gravitated closer as if unable to help it and Olive’s head tipped back until the ends of her hair tickled her shoulder blades. He wanted to kiss her, she could see it. Her mouth softened at a moment’s notice, but the kiss never came, despite their obvious need of it.
“Does the idea of riding on my bike make you nervous?”
With anyone else? Absolutely. With this man? She couldn’t imagine a scenario where he’d allow a hair on her head to be harmed. “No. I’m not nervous.” Still not ready to let him off the hook for the last two weeks, she tried to pull off a casual shrug. “I saw you on the bike today. At a stoplight. You seemed to handle it proficiently, I guess.”
He reared back a touch. “You saw me. Where?”
“Outside that coffee shop on East Park Avenue.” She rolled her lips inward to wet them. “I was on the fence about whether to come out tonight, but when I saw you just going about your business, I said yes. I was finished wai
ting for a call that would never come.” She shook her head. “Why am I telling you this?”
“Because you want to torture me,” he rasped. True to his words, his expression was pained as he pressed his lips to her forehead, brushing a kiss there. “I’m sorry.”
Olive hummed, digging her fingernails into her palms to keep from tracing every inch of his body with her hands. Tugging him closer and anchoring herself with his heat, like she yearned to do.
“The kids you were with tonight…” He caught her hair where it flew around in the wind, holding it in a light fist. “You go to school with those guys?”
“Stop calling them kids. Most of them are older than me.”
A single eyebrow went up. “Want to know what I’d prefer to call them?”
“No,” she said quickly, battling a smile. “Yes, we go to school together—and once again for the cheap seats, you don’t have the right to be jealous.”
His eyelids fell to half-mast. “Oh no?”
“Nope.”
Rory’s mouth dropped to hers without warning, pushing, his upper lip curling against hers. Their breath collided and hastened, his fingers slipping into her hair and gripping. “It’s not like this with anyone else. For either of us. Is it?”
Olive shook her head once, quickly, in a hurry to get back to their almost kiss. “No.”
“I want the right to be jealous, Olive. I’m working on it. While I get there, let’s not pretend this thing between us follows the usual rules. It doesn’t.” He kissed her hard. No tongue. Just an unrelenting suction of lips desperate for contact from which he pulled back way too soon, his breathing labored. “I don’t notice girls anymore. Not for weeks. There’s only one.”
“Good,” she heard herself say, the word emerging from some deep, earthy part of her.
“Exactly. Good. That’s what you want, whether or not it’s supposed to be too soon.”
Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me. “Yes.”