by Meghan Quinn
A what if . . .
What if I went after her?
What if I didn’t step aside when I saw Colby’s eyes on her?
What if I fucking fought for her?
Chest constricting, heart beating at a dangerous rate, I make my way to my duffel bag and start stuffing it. I need to get the fuck out of here. I can’t stay the night, not with her a few feet away, breathing in the same air as me. It’s too dangerous.
I’m too dangerous around her, willing to push her to her limits.
Hugging.
Holding her hand.
Stroking her soft skin.
It’s all too much. I went too far and fucked everything up.
It’s what I’m good at. I fuck everything up. I’ll just tack it onto the list.
Desperate, I leave my toothbrush in the bathroom and zip up my bag. I’ll get a hotel room for the night and figure out what to do after that. I have enough saved up now where I can find a place somewhere. I might not have furniture, but I’ll at least be as far away from Rory as I can be, not corrupting her, not forcing myself into her arms. Into her bed.
Slinging the duffel over my shoulder, I lean down to get my boots when I hear Rory’s bed creak through the silent night.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice worried.
Not even bothering to look at her, I say, “I have to get out of here.”
“Stryder.”
I shake my head. “No. I need to fucking leave.” I pocket my phone and make my way toward the front door where I snag my hat, jacket, and keys. Reaching for the door, I’m stopped by Rory’s body, blocking my way out, leaning against the door.
“You can’t leave.”
Gritting out, I say, “I have to fucking leave. There is no choice in the matter. Move, Rory.”
“No.”
Exhaling heavily, I try not to get angry, but it’s hard because I’m fucking embarrassed. I’m mad at myself, and I’m so goddamn in love this woman that I hate every damn breath I take . . . because I can’t be with her.
Shoulders proud, a determined look on her face, she’s not backing down.
“Rory, I’m not kidding. Move.”
“Neither am I.”
Growing angrier by the second, I say, “Move out of the way.”
“No. I’m not letting you walk out that door when . . .”
My heart pauses in my chest, as she bites her bottom lip, her chest heaving, the look of indecision crossing her eyes.
“When . . . what?” I ask, holding my breath, calming my overactive imagination and tamping down any insane thoughts of what I wish would come out of her mouth.
“When,” She twists her hands together, her eyes drifting away for a second but then she fixes them back on mine. “When I want you.”
When she . . . wants me?
I blink a few times, the words not quite registering in my mind. She wants me.
The girl of I’ve dreamt for well over a year, wants me.
Still gripping my items tightly, I’m dumbfounded, struck to my goddamn soul with an arrow straight from her quiver.
She wants me.
Did I hear that right?
“Say something,” Rory says, looking more nervous than ever. But I have no clue what to fucking say. Do I tell her I love her? Do I tell her I saw her first, that I stepped aside, despite wanting her more than anything? Do I tell her that she is not only my best friend, but the woman of my dreams? Do I tell her that every fucking night since the day I met her, I’ve thought of her, I’ve dreamt of holding her until she’s drifted to sleep?
Do I ask her if she’s sure? Because I swear to Christ if this is some kind of sick joke, I won’t be able to make it through this. My heart won’t take rejection from her. My pride . . . my soul would be broken for eternity.
“Stryder.” Her eyes search mine, and when I don’t move or say anything, her bottom lip trembles. “Forget it.” She waves me off. “That was stupid of me to say. Maybe you should leave.” She steps aside and tries to open the door behind her to let me out.
My need for her stutters in my chest, as I watch my opportunity slowly start to slip away.
This is it. I can either be all in, or I can walk out that door, honoring the unspoken bro-code I share with Colby, walking down the path of the broken and miserable.
Or I can take a step toward a future I’ve dreamt of, a future that holds promise for me, that gives me something to live for, something to cherish, something to take care of. A life that gives me fucking purpose.
Purpose.
That’s all I want, a reason to exist beyond myself, and that reason is Rory.
“Please, leave,” Rory says, head tilted down, shielding her eyes from me.
Without a second thought, realization hitting me hard in the chest, I drop everything to the floor, my bag hitting the hardwood with a loud clunk, echoing against the silence. Stepping forward, closing the space between us, I cup both her cheeks, tilt her mouth up, and take what I’ve wanted for so long, marking her as mine.
My mouth descends to hers, pressing my lips into her softness. Eyes close, body melts, worries are erased. Instead . . . I feel.
The gentle feel of her curious mouth against mine.
The tentative grip of her hands on my forearms.
The subtle lift onto her toes to get closer.
Heart hammering.
A low moan.
A sweep of her tongue.
A sweep of mine.
A tangle of fingers and then . . . I crash into her, pressing her against the door, blocking her from escape. Mine.
Her hands glide up my arms to the back of my neck, looping, securing our connection, urging me to realize this isn’t a dream. I’m not the only one harboring feelings. The looks and glances I’ve received over the last few weeks haven’t been my imagination. She wants me.
Our mouths fuse, mold, melt together, as our tongues seek more, tangling together in an epic connection, changing my entire perspective on life forever. In the darkness of this summer night, with Rory’s lips demanding more from me, I can feel the grey hues of my life start to morph into something of importance, like this kiss is the beginning of the most important chapter of my life.
With each pass of her lips over mine, colors pop into my mind, bright vibrant colors that I feel like I haven’t seen in such a long time.
Needing more, I bring one of my hands to her hair, threading my fingers through the soft strands until I slowly tip her head back, pulling ever so gently, but just enough to let her know I want this, that I need this. Her.
Her mouth falls open even more and I dive in further, gripping her jaw, moving my tongue across hers, our lips syncing, our breaths tangling together, panting and labored.
A low moan erupts from her mouth as my hips press against hers, my cock so fucking hard and aroused seeking her heat. Not giving it a second thought, she wraps one leg around mine, hooking her into place, her center perfectly aligned with my erection.
She moves her hips, rubbing against my cock.
Another thrust.
And another.
Eyes squeezed shut, breath caught in my chest, I carefully bite on her lower lip when she thrusts one more time.
“Rory,” I groan.
“Stryder,” she returns, rubbing herself against me, her head falling back against the door, exposing her neck to my lips.
Fuck. I can’t stop myself.
Picking up her other leg, I wrap it around my waist and hoist her against the wall, pressing my cock against her.
A long groan falls from her beautiful mouth before she starts to move her hips against mine. Concerned about her scar, I whisper into her ear as my lips travel up her neck. “Don’t move, Rory.”
“I have to.”
“Your scar, don’t move. Let. Me,” I grit out through clenched teeth, bringing my mouth back to her neck and pressing one of my hands against her rib cage, just below her breast. Needing release just as much as her, I gently move
my hips up, the friction between us so goddamn incredible that with one move, my balls start to tighten.
Fuck, I’m going to embarrass myself.
She grips my head tightly and presses into me, bringing my lips to just below her ear. I lick. I suck. I tease. I thrust.
“Oh God,” she cries, warming up my entire fucking body.
This is a goddamn dream; it has to be. Rory is close to orgasm, rubbing up and down on my cock, crying out because of me.
Needing more, needing to make sure I stay in this moment, I move my lips along her jaw and back to her lips where I claim them, pressing hard. Teeth knocking, lips wet, tongues clashing, we feed off each other as my hips move up and down her slick heat, our clothes providing the only barrier between us. God, I want inside her.
Thrust after glorious thrust, she tightens around me, her legs a viselike grip around my waist, her arms clenching me, her body stilling, her hips riding mine.
“Oh God, Stryder,” she calls out, as she pumps relentlessly against my cock, her orgasm hitting her hard, the friction rubbing against the head of my cock in just the right spot.
I grunt out, pressing my forehead against hers, my hips pulsing wildly against her, as I come, release smacking me in the chest into a land of euphoria.
Slowing down, trying to catch my breath, my cock still throbbing between her legs, I take a deep breath and link her hands with mine only to press them against the door behind her.
“Fuck,” I say on a heavy breath, my forehead still pressed against hers.
As our bodies start to recover, air filling our lungs again, I start to worry what’s going to happen next, what she might say.
But when her fingers grip mine, squeezing hard, and when she presses a soft kiss against my lips, the nerves twisting my stomach into knots eases.
Pressing another sweet kiss to my lips, she quietly says, “I think we might need to change.”
A chuckle rumbles out of me. “Uh, I need to for sure.”
“Change and then go to bed?” She kisses my lips again, this one a little deeper.
I kiss her back, my lips lingering longer. “My bed or yours?”
This time, she chuckles. “Mine.”
Hands behind my head, covers pulled up to my waist, I watch for Rory to appear out of the bathroom. Being the sweet girl that she is, she let me use the bathroom first, but now I wish she’d gone first, because the anticipation is killing me. I want to hold her again.
The door cracks open as the light turns off. Across the room, she’s a dark silhouette, approaching me, curvy and beautiful.
As she draws closer, I can see her eyes scanning my bare chest, appreciation in her gaze. It’s as if she’s finally giving herself permission to look. To admire. To want.
“Tell me what side to be on.” I scoot up on the bed, ready to move when she goes to the other side.
“Don’t move. You’re perfect there.” Slipping under the sheets, she scoots in close and rests her head on one of the pillows, turning toward me.
Flipping to my side as well, I place my hand on her hip and my other hand under my pillow. I can’t stop the smile when I look into Rory’s eyes this intimately, this close.
“Are you okay?” I ask, hoping I didn’t hurt her healing scar.
“I’m perfect,” she murmurs, drawing a line across my chest with her finger.
I have so many questions, so many things running through my mind, but I don’t want to ask any. I want to enjoy this moment being close to her. I’m absolutely terrified that if I do or say the wrong thing, she’s going to tell me this was a mistake, and that’s one phrase I don’t think I could live through.
Drawing circles now, she says, “Can I ask you something?”
Swallowing hard, nervous what might come next, I say, “Anything.”
“What happened back there, did it change anything between us?”
I run my tongue along my teeth, trying to hide the worry blooming inside me. This is it. I can either fight for what I want, or I can step aside. Again.
When I look into her hopeful eyes, there is no way I’ll ever step aside, not after getting a taste of her, not after hearing her moan my name as her climax pummeled into her. No, I’m too desperate to experience the real thing, too needy to be a part of her life, to be the man she deserves. To take what should have been mine.
And there is no way I can go back to being just her friend from here. I can’t hide my feelings from her, pretend this was just a slip up, because it wasn’t. This was pent-up yearning finding its release. There is only one way to move forward from here, and it’s with her holding my hand, walking next to me down this complicated path.
Gliding my thumb over her hip bone, I gently say, “It changed everything, Rory.”
I put the words out there, holding my breath, waiting for her response, never expecting her to smile, but she does.
“Everything?” Her hand glides down the middle of my chest, sending a wave of arousal straight to my cock.
Nodding, I answer, “Everything.”
“Tell me what’s going to change.” Her index finger trails over my abs, playing in the divot between the muscles seductively.
Pushing her so she’s on her back, I move so my chest hovers over her, my elbow propping me up, my other hand going to her cheek where I caress her soft skin, taking in the way her eyes look up at me, completely relaxed and sated.
“For one, I’m not sleeping on that fucking blowup mattress anymore.” She chuckles, the sound so beautiful to my ears. “And these lips right here,” I pass the pad of my thumb over her plump mouth. “These are meant for me and I plan on claiming them every chance I get.” She practically purrs beneath me. “And instead of sitting back and admiring you from afar, I’m going to let it be known every time you knock me to my knees with your beauty, every time you take my breath away with your smile, and every time you steal my attention when you’re in the same room as me.”
Curving her hand around the back of my neck, her fingers float through the small strands at my hairline, bringing me closer to her mouth where she gently presses a sweet, sultry kiss across my lips.
Pulling away but staying close, I say, “But there are two things that won’t change.”
“What are those?”
“This bond we have, this friendship, will never go away. You will always be my best friend, Rory, and that title will remain untouched.”
She smiles, lighting up the dark room. “What’s the second thing?”
“Our living arrangement. I might sleep in this bed when I’m here, but I’m still going to stay with Ryan.”
“What?” Her brow creases, clearly unhappy with my last statement. “Why would you stay with Ryan?”
I stroke her cheek with my thumb, still in fucking shock that I can be intimate with her. “Because I want to make sure we do this right, that’s why. I don’t want to jump into things too soon and then have you grow sick of me.”
“Not possible.” She shakes her head.
“Still,” I press a gentle kiss against her lips, “this is important to me, Rory. You’ve quickly become a permanent fixture in my life, and I’ll be damned if I screw this up like everything else in my life.”
“Stryder.” Her hand moves to my cheek where I lean into her touch, eyes closed, thanking whoever wants to listen for this chance. “You do not screw everything up.”
Not wanting to get into that part of my life, I say, “Please, Rory. Please allow me to date you, to show you the kind of man I can be for you, to give you everything you deserve and more.”
Not answering right away, she takes a few deep breaths before nodding. “I’ll hate that you’re over there when you can be with me, but okay.”
Smiling, I lean down and place a soft kiss against her lips.
Fuck, I’m so happy right now, happier than I think I’ve ever been. When I first saw Rory across the deck playing pool, I knew there was something special about her, I could see it in her kind eyes, but never d
id I think I would be a recipient of those eyes staring at me with such adoration.
Even though I’m a happy-as-shit motherfucker right now, I do need to know something, and I can’t hold my tongue. “Can I ask you something?”
She shifts below me and nods. “Anything.”
“Why me? Why now?”
Keeping close, hoping the connection of our bodies reminds her how great we are together, I wait.
Biting on her lower lip, she considers her answer. “It just happened over time. There were small moments that brought me closer and closer to you, and then it was like it just hit me. This crush I had turned into something so much more than I could comprehend. I knew if I didn’t at least try to see where it would go, I would regret it.” She chews on the side of her mouth and then says, “I dressed up for you tonight hoping you would make a move. I was so nervous and afraid that maybe you didn’t see me the same way I saw you. See you. It was why I was so hot and cold with you. I don’t think I’ve ever been this shy with a guy before.”
Shy? Rory didn’t think I felt the same way? Well, fuck, I guess I did a better job at hiding my feelings than I thought, because at times, I could feel myself pressing too hard, demanding too much from her.
Not wanting to give away everything, because I don’t want to scare her away, I simply say, “You had nothing to worry about. The feeling is completely mutual. And you didn’t have to dress up for me. I like you in a dress and in your sweats, and both turn me on.”
Her eyes widen and then a sinister smile crosses her face as she starts to move her hand down my body. I catch it before it can do any real damage.
“Don’t even think about it. I said I want to date you, so that means keeping your hands to yourself.” You are a fucking moron. That’s my cock telling me off, because it has been a very long time since he’s seen any action. Fucking moron.
She lifts a quizzical eyebrow at me. “Stryder, we just dry-humped to climax against the apartment door, so I’m pretty sure we’re past the whole keep your hands to yourself routine.”
That door will never look the same to me ever again. If she ever moves, I’m taking that door with me.