by Piper Rayne
I could melt into the concrete right here with that declaration and I can’t wait for him to prove himself right.
Roarke’s hand glides down my arm and disappears behind me, opening the vehicle door. He pats my hip with his other hand in a motion to tell me to climb in. “Let’s get this over with.”
I sit in the passenger seat of the Range Rover in a lust-filled daze waiting for Roarke to make his way to the driver’s seat. He climbs into the truck, puts the key in the ignition and then freezes.
“What’s the matter?” I ask.
He leans over and his lips land on mine, his body hovering over mine. The spark between us ignites into a fire and I grip the hairs on the back of his head, keeping him against me.
“We shouldn’t? Right?” he asks when he pulls away for a second.
I giggle like a lovesick teenage girl and run my hand along the light stubble on his cheeks. My thighs clench with thoughts of how that stubble will feel between them.
Before I have a chance to answer, his forehead falls to mine. “You need to work on your timing. You give me the green light when there’s no possible way of me having you.”
“Would you prefer a red light?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“Relax Firecracker. I’m kidding.”
“Good because…”
He shuts me up with another kiss and I sink into the soft leather seats reveling in his taste.
Too quickly he tears his lips from my mouth, pulls the seatbelt over my body, and starts the car.
“You’re so damn hard to resist. A chink in my willpower.” He shakes his head, more to himself than me I think.
I smile and look out the window. I shouldn’t like that I weaken him, but I do anyway. I like it a lot.
Chapter Twenty
It’s a bar-b-que buffet for the rehearsal dinner at a restaurant on the river’s edge with tables inside and outside. There are gas-lit fire pits with Adirondack chairs circling the flames. Kids run around the green grass while men hang around the tables jabbering on about all the local news. Women sit in clumps sharing the latest gossip and for a second I feel like I entered the movie Steel Magnolias.
I sip my spiked lemonade, appraising the crowd.
Allie and Wyatt sit at a table with their friends, beer cans and Solo cups piled high in front of them.
Edie sits with her boyfriend and two other women, smoking, laughing and carrying on.
“What do you think?” Roarke’s hand winds around my waist and he pulls me to him, his head burrowing into my neck. My body hums as his lips land on the sensitive flesh.
“It’s nice.”
“It’s not the Ritz,” he murmurs, his teeth latching on to my earlobe.
My hand lands on his chest and I push him away. He’s too strong and stubborn though, his hand never leaves my hip.
“Pushing me away already?” he asks.
“If you keep talking like I’m some stuck up bitch who can’t enjoy anything other than the best, then yes. And the teasing isn’t appreciated.”
“I do love your firecracker side, but you should know it only makes me even hotter for you.”
I chuckle. “You’ll have to wait until later tonight.”
He sips his whiskey neat and then holds the cup down at his side.
“If I was a better man, I’d wait until we got back to Chicago. Lucky for you, I’m not.” He winks.
“If you keep latching on to my earlobe then you’ll be taking me in the women’s restroom.”
He chuckles. “You have no idea how hard it’s been the past two hours not to bend you over one of these tables and have my wicked way with you.” His hand slides off my hip to my ass and his fingers delve into my flesh.
I rise to my tiptoes and he steps in front of me, blocking us from bystanders. His lips millimeters from mine, I impatiently wait for him to claim them as his again.
“Do you want to know my plans or do you prefer surprises?” His voice is low, and the deep timbre he’s perfected makes my insides clench.
“Why don’t you give me a sample?”
His straight lips tip up as though he can’t control them. It’s my favorite smile of his. The impromptu one where he’s trying to fight his amusement but fails miserably.
He steps forward, raising his hand above my head and pressing it against the red siding of the restaurant. Leaning forward, he runs his nose up and down my jawline.
“Let’s just say you’ll find out I have three amazing God-given assets. My mouth, my tongue, and my cock all revved and ready to fulfill your every wish.” His teeth grip the fleshy part of my earlobe, tugging once again.
My body heats and I close my eyes, pushing back the thought of raising my legs to straddle his waist and grinding against him just to ease the thrum of energy building in my body.
“Oh aren’t you guys cute. Don’t let him seduce you, Hannah. He’s a heartbreaker.”
Talk about a douse of cold water.
Roarke steps back, glaring at his mother. “Always my biggest fan,” Roarke murmurs.
“I’m stealing her away. People want to meet this new love of yours from Chicago.” Edie slides her arm through mine and walks us away.
I look longingly over my shoulder to Roarke to save me. He watches us leave him, tilting the glass up to his lips.
Disregarding Roarke since he’s not going to tell his mother not to kidnap me and I turn back around. That’s when Edie’s description of me finally hits my brain.
“New love?”
She laughs, patting my hand. “I know women can be blind sometimes, but Roarke has always worn his feelings on his sleeve. Besides, I’m his mama—I can tell what that boy’s thinking. Always could.”
I want to object. I want to tell her she’s way off base. That here and now is the first time I’ve seen an ounce of vulnerability in Roarke. That the boy she raised and the man I know are completely different and until a few hours ago, I couldn’t see that they co-existed in the same body.
Instead, I offer her, “I’m starting to see that.”
She stops near a table at the river’s edge where there are five women seated, all eyes on me.
A boulder lodges in my throat.
“Sit,” the woman throwing off a sweet grandmotherly appearance says, patting the chair next to her.
I do as I’m told and Edie takes the one next to me.
“You’ll never remember all our names, but…” Edie introduces the women to me.
She’s wrong though because I was brought up to never forget a name. My mother taught me at a young age to always associate something with the name to help me remember better. Hence the woman next to me would be Peachy Pam because her hair color resembles a peach. Or the woman two down from her is Mustache Millie because she has a bit of a mustache. It’s a simple technique and I still use it today.
“Pleasure ladies.” I nod to the women at the table.
“The pleasure is all ours. Now…tell us your story,” Mustache Millie says, sitting up in her seat with her wine glass at her lips.
“Story?”
Peachy Pam pats my arm. “How you met Roarke. There are women around here who have been trying to nail him down every time he comes home. Liv didn’t know what she lost until he came back to town as a successful lawyer with his fancy car and big billfold.”
“Well…” I try to push away thoughts of Roarke and Liv in love so jealousy won’t have a way to take a foothold in me.
I’ve had men in my life before. It’s not like Roarke and I are committed to one another. Heck, I haven’t even slept with him, but the thought that Liv was the love of his life disturbs me to the point of becoming a psycho woman.
“We met in court.”
“You were married before?” Edie asks me, eyes wide.
I nod. “I was.”
“Roarke was your divorce lawyer?” Millie asks, downing the rest of her wine staring at her friends like I’m giving the lowdown on her favorite celebrity.
“No. He wa
s my ex’s.”
It dawns on me that this is the story I will have to tell people over and over again if we’re a couple. That he represented my ex in my divorce.
“Oh.” Millie smirks at her friends and I peg her as the mean girl in high school.
“That’s interesting,” Pam remarks never looking at the other women.
I glance over my shoulder, finding Roarke talking to a few guys. Our eyes meet and he smiles.
“Yeah, unconventional I suppose,” I say, turning back around to face the firing squad.
“We’ve heard a few rumors about him down in Chicago. Doesn’t he have a nickname?” Blue Betty asks, her huge blue eyes filled with question marks.
“Not sure about a nickname, but Roarke has made a name for himself in the divorce attorney circuit to be sure.” Look how polite I can be.
“So how did it all happen?” Edie asks as a man drops another beer can in front of her.
“I tracked her down,” Roarke’s voice says from behind me. His hands on my shoulders, his thumb running along the length of my neck under my hair. “I knew the minute I saw the PI photos that she had to be mine.”
Pam clutches her heart and falls to the back of her seat. “So sweet.”
“You see how beautiful she is, but did you know she runs a charitable foundation to empower young girls?”
His kind words make my cheeks heat and goose bumps rush up my arms when he leans forward to set his glass on the table and takes my hand.
“I should have told my client I couldn’t represent him. That it was a conflict of interest after I saw Hannah.”
I shake my head as the women look on at him in awe.
Well, everyone but Millie. She’s giving the stink eye. “That would have been a good choice,” she snips.
Roarke chuckles. “The best thing about this woman is that she keeps me on my toes. Keeps me honest.” He leans over and his lips connect with my cheek. “If you don’t mind ladies, I’m going to steal her away. I’m sure we’ll see you tomorrow.”
All the woman nod in agreement and he guides me away with his hand on the small of my back.
“Just keep going,” he mumbles and I weave my way through more guests.
“We should say goodbye.”
He stops and glances at Allie. She’s lip-locked with Wyatt again.
“I think we’re good.” He threads his fingers with mine as he leads me around the side of the restaurant to his car. “I needed you like a year ago.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Roarke pushes the hotel room door open and we circle around the entryway, our lips attached. The door slams and I have no idea if it’s his doing or not but I don’t really care. He tears his lips off mine and I lean forward only to find him stepping away from me.
“What’s the problem?” I ask.
“If we don’t slow down, I won’t remember this and I need to remember the first time I take you.”
The small piece of me that was still unsure if this is a good idea or not shatters with his words.
He remains a few feet away, his gaze feasting on me, a flame of heat searing along the path his eyes take over my body.
“You’re so gorgeous.” He toes out of his shoes, taking one painfully slow step toward me.
My stomach tightens and I let the moment sink in because one thing is for certain—Roarke will be someone I need to remember, too.
The back of his hand runs across my cheek and along my jaw, his fingers threading through the hairs at the back of my neck, thumb running up and down the center of my neck.
“I feel like I’m in the middle of some teenage kid’s wet dream right now.”
The weight of the moment breaks and I laugh, my head falling forward and landing on his shoulder. His own chest vibrates with amusement and the scent of his cologne sparks the want that’s inside of me when he’s near.
Without missing a beat, he nudges my head up and his lips take mine. Slow and leisurely our tongues slide against one another’s. I sink into his strength, toeing out of my own shoes.
My heels fall to the floor and Roarke’s neck cranes farther down. At some point as I’m lost in our kiss, his hands grip my ass, propping me up in his arms. Not missing his unspoken intention, I wrap my legs around his waist and he sits down on the edge of the bed.
His bulging erection rocks me at my core only spurring me to grind against him more as all my pent up lust for this man demands a release. My hands cling to his shoulders as I rock back and forth, my head falling back.
I need him. I need to be closer.
The sound of my zipper echoes in the quiet room. His teeth scrape along my collarbone while his fingers slide the fabric over my shoulders, falling down my arms. Removing my arms from the top of my dress, it pools around my waist, revealing my black lacy bra.
Roarke’s eyes feast on my breasts and I love that he appears to struggle to shift his vision away. No man has ever made me feel as beautiful and wanted as Roarke. With one searing look, my body engulfs in flames that only he can dampen. I crave that feeling the more it comes.
“Fuck,” he bites out, one hand cradling my breast, his thumb running over my already pebbled nipple.
My back arches, demanding more of his touch and hopefully his mouth.
Roarke is a man who picks up on signals though. He lowers his head, taking my nipple in his mouth, wetting the lace of a bra that did little to cover me. I grind harder into his lap, the need for a release skyrocketing to new heights. He unhooks my bra and the lace fabric pulls away from my chest. My breathing staggers as his lips travel the same path of his fingers down my arms until my bra falls to the floor.
“Hold on to me,” he says and I move my hand back to his shoulders, my fingers digging into his muscled flesh.
He raises both of his hands, grabbing hold of my breasts, teasing my nipples. My eyes fall closed, reveling in his touch. Firm but gentle, nothing like I thought he would be. In my mind, he’d have my dress up to my waist and be thrusting inside of me by now.
“Time to lose the dress, Firecracker.” The nickname he’s taken to calling me makes it feel like cupid shot an arrow at my heart. I’ve never been given a special term of endearment by a man. I can’t explain it, but it feels so right when he says it. Like it’s something only the two of us will ever share with one another.
His hands and lips leave my body and he guides me into a standing position with his hands. As it has been, he controls the situation as his thumbs dig into the space between my flesh and my dress. With a little persistence, the fabric falls to the floor and I step out.
Roarke wastes no time before he yanks me forward and his lips press against my now exposed stomach. “You’re way too perfect for me.” His fingers slip under my panties, grab my ass and leaving no distance between us.
I twirl my fingers through his silver and brown hair, loving the way it falls in soft waves without the usual gel.
He rests his chin on my stomach staring up at me and I draw back to look into his eyes. Something is going on behind those gorgeous hazels. Something I don’t quite recognize, because I don’t think I’ve seen it before. A small piece of me hopes I get to see it again, though. That if Roarke and I somehow make it, he’ll never stop looking at me like he’s the luckiest guy in the world. A reminder of Todd’s dull eyes focused on me, prick my heart with doubt, but I push any more thoughts of my ex away from this moment.
This is my moment with a man who has pursued me without apology. Shamelessly used leverage to adhere us together so he could win me over.
I run my hand running along his stubble. “You’re overdressed.”
Our gazes stay locked as our hands glide along each other’s bodies, none of our movements rushed. A small part of me wants to commit this to memory—worried that it’s because we’re lost in this small town far from the day-to-day realities in Chicago.
A shiver crests over my heated flesh as his fingers run up and down my naked body. He slides my panties down my legs and
I step out of them, then fall to my knees in front of him. His hand cradles my cheek and my eyes close briefly before I strip him of his dress shirt. Pushing the fabric off his shoulders, his thumb runs along my lips and I snake my tongue out to suck on it. He inhales with a sharp hiss.
Satisfied, I take off his socks, then unbutton and unzip his slacks. He stands, and they join my dress on the floor, leaving him in only black boxer briefs.
I bite back a smile because if I were a betting woman, I would have beat the house. This man screams conservative right down to his underwear choices.
“Let me grab a condom.” He leaves me for the first time in the past twenty minutes and my body chills.
I climb up the bed, laying on my back watching him dig through his bag, retrieving the foil packet. A giddiness whizzes through me over the fact that he’s mine, if only for tonight.
“You make me wish I had a photographic memory.” His voice is rough and strained as he stands at the end of the bed, his gaze searing my skin.
He wraps his fingers around my ankles and tugs me down the bed. “Did you think this would go along the lines of an old married couple with the missionary position?”
I laugh and tilt my head. “You have other plans?”
“I always have plans when it comes to you.” He drops to his knees and positions my legs over his shoulders. “I need to know what you taste like.”
His thumb runs along my folds, my hips rising off the bed. Dipping his thumb into my opening, he watches for my reaction. “I love that you’re this wet for me.”
Without another word, the scruff of his beard tickles the sensitive flesh of my inner thighs as he leans in. He licks, sucks, and twirls until I’m writhing under him begging for release. My fingers clutch the comforter, my thighs tightening around his head. He never stops. Not until I scream his name and my body lays limp on the bed.
The sound of the foil packet ripping open draws me from my post-orgasmic haze. I’m ready for more with this man and when the tip of his dick pushes into my wet core, I exhale on a sigh. Roarke slows his movements, his hands caging my head when his lips meet mine and he eases all the way inside me.