Had To Be You Page 11

  Smiling, he came back to her. “Better?”

  “Not really.” Rory discreetly adjusted the fit of her bikini bottoms. Despite the fact he’d already seen all of her, she retained some modesty. “We’re still stranded here.”

  He rubbed his hands up and down her arms in a warming gesture as she glanced around again. Her gaze finally landed on the bed, stripped of its linens. Suddenly, the small space seemed consumed by its presence.

  “We could always make the best of a bad situation,” he suggested, gazing at it as well.

  She tried not to smile. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Too late. Already did.”

  “Matt!”

  “What? We might need to huddle together for warmth. Can’t you feel the sudden temperature drop with the wind and rain? It’s a matter of survival.”

  “It was like ninety-seven degrees out earlier. I think we’re okay.” Her voice grew softer, sweeter, and Rory wasn’t really sure if the room was getting even smaller or if they were drawing closer. But then they were—slowly, irresistibly and by degrees.

  She could feel his warmth without even touching him, though she ached to do so, and the moment between them seemed suspended in the rise of anticipation. His eyes drifted over the curve of her hips, traveling up the concave slope of her tanned and toned tummy before it came to rest on her full breasts, tight nipples poking through the blue triangles of her bikini top. She shivered, even though her body felt on fire from the pure heat in his gaze.

  Here, alone in the darkness and distant quiet of the summer storm, the intensity of their physical connection was undeniable, overwhelming nearly everything else.

  He reached out to pull her into a kiss, his tongue invading her mouth to stroke and slide against hers, intimately exploring every corner to leave her head spinning. There were times when they could kiss for what felt like hours, soft and sweet and gentle, in a perfect state of contentment. Then he would kiss her like this, the slow sweep of his tongue erasing every rational thought from her head, and she was consumed by an urgent need and desire. All she wanted was more.

  Sliding his arms around her body, he eventually lifted her right off the floor, crushing her to him, and carried her to the bed. Rory lost several moments to that delicious, breathtaking blur of sensation, and the next thing she knew they were lying together and kissing, rolling, grinding gently in a tangle of limbs. His hands were on her back and in her hair, but she felt him everywhere. From their feet to their knees, the hard press of his broad chest, the graze of his muscled arm, even just the slightest skin-on-skin contact was the sweetest kind of burn.

  He pressed his lips to the hollow of her throat, touching the tip of his tongue to her skin to taste her as he gradually let his body come to rest on top. She arched her head back on the bed with a soft gasp, trembling beneath to feel how hard he was against her.

  Clutching his short hair in her fist, she muted her cry as his mouth closed over the fabric of her bikini top, teasing the tight silken bud with his soft lips until she was clinging to his body with pleading breaths. Sliding his hands up from the small of her back to the strap, he undid the tie in two short flicks of his wrist. Her top fell away, and when the bare skin of her breasts met his chest, the contact was electric.

  His hand slipped in between their bodies. Laying it flat on her stomach, he smoothed his palm in small circles before sliding lower. Hooking his index finger underneath the top edge of her bikini bottoms, in gentle strokes he grazed his knuckle back and forth against her warm skin along the line of her tan.

  Rory felt the caress deep inside the pit of her stomach, and slowly lifted her eyes to meet his, her breath catching in her throat. The hot blue intensity in his gaze, hidden behind that easy humor and boyish vulnerability, left no doubt as to exactly what he wanted, what he desired, and it was as if he was asking her permission—sometimes even silently pleading—in a way that made her quiver with the quiet thrill of longing. It held a promise that he would worship her body, if only she would allow it.

  “I want you,” he murmured, his lips moving down her neck. “It’s been too long.”

  It was true they rarely had chance to be totally alone and intimate, with her working two jobs this summer (not to mention the minor detail of still being minors, living under their parents’ roofs) . Even the lifeguard shifts they worked together sometimes felt like one big torturous tease.

  “A week, maybe…that’s not exactly an eternity.”

  “Then why does it feel like one?”

  A sudden crack and roar of thunder felt like it shook the walls and made her heart jump. She pressed both hands flat to his bare chest, involuntarily pushing back.

  Matt sighed, easing off in his immediate pursuit of passion, though his tenderness remained close.

  “You know I never expect anything, right?” he said gently, but more seriously. “I mean, even though it’s something we’ve done, or do, the last thing I want is for you to ever feel like you have to. It’s just—I guess I just want to be as close to you as possible.”

  “I know,” she assured him without hesitation. “And you don’t make me feel that way.”

  “Good.” He nodded, and then a touch of that humor returned to his voice. “Because you don’t owe me anything—other than, maybe, just your entire womanhood.”

  “My womanhood?” she repeated with a dubious, skeptical smirk.

  “Well, I am your first.”

  Shaking her head, she gave him a small smile of reproof. Her hand was still resting on his chest and her fingertips traced a random pattern on his smooth skin.

  The pain had been sharp, brief and temporary. The ache of wanting him hurt more.

  She hesitated a moment before asking.

  “Am I yours?”

  He drew her hair up off her slender neck to let it slip through his fingers, soft and silky and still rain-damp. “Are you what?”

  Rory couldn’t look him in the eyes, her voice barely a whisper. “Your first?”

  He surprised her by laughing again.

  “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know.”

  And she honestly didn’t. All Rory really knew about love at this point was that nothing could be taken for granted. Nothing could ever be assumed.

  Matt hesitated, his amused grin wavering uncertainly before it faded completely.

  “Wait—you’re serious right now?”

  She drew in a soft breath, exhaling it in a rush of words. “You and Murph…I know you hang out with plenty of girls when you’re with him, and meet new ones all the time around here in the summer. I know he’s been with a lot of girls.” Her frown reflexively dipped down. “I’m aware of his scorecard.”

  “Rory, I’m not him,” he said, gently reasoning with her. “And I’m with you.”

  “I know,” she said with another sigh. “I know that. I’m not saying that I think you’re doing it now. I just didn’t know about, you know, before.”

  “Before you?”

  She only nodded.

  Fingers still buried in her hair, he caressed her cheek with a tender sweep of his thumb. “There really is no ‘before you.’ Because before I was with you, all I ever did was think about being with you. You’re it for me, Rory.”

  “Well, you never specifically said.”

  It seemed all their conversations preceding the decision to proceed had been focused primarily on her—her thoughts, her doubts, her beliefs, her concerns, her wishes, her needs. Even though Matt readily admitted he was nervous too, Rory was still secretly curious. Up until now, maybe she was afraid to know.

  Outside, growing more distant, soft booms of thunder resonated across the vast gray ocean of sky. His hand drifted, grazing his palm over her bare knee, fingertips lingering on the smooth skin of her slender thigh.

  “Do I really have to come out and say it?” His smile softened with affection. “I thought it was pretty much implied. You know everything else about me, Rory. How could you possi
bly not know that? I have no secrets from you.”

  Leaning in, he brushed his mouth over hers before he captured her rosy, plush bottom lip, the kiss intensifying with slightly more insistence, passion reignited instantly by that small taste. Just as he started to reel it back, she yielded willingly, granting him entrance with a soft sigh.

  He pulled her in closer, his tongue gently probing, exploring, stroking along her tongue, so close she could feel the quickening of his heartbeat. He smoothed his hand up the inside of her bare thigh with a light feathery caress, and her body shivered longingly at his soft touch.

  “Does that feel good?”

  She managed a weak response. “Yes.”

  Her eyes fell closed with a nearly inaudible gasp, head arching back as his hand reached the junction of her slim thighs, his fingers on her bikini bottoms, pressed lightly to her as he began a slow caress.

  “How about that?”

  This time her only response was the muted whimper of a moan as he slowly eased the fabric aside, sliding one finger in. Her hips began to move instinctively and she reached out to curl her hand around his forearm, rubbing it up and down his heated skin as his muscles flexed beneath. When he slid a second finger inside, her fingernails sank into his bicep.

  “Okay?” His voice was deep and husky in her ear.

  “Yeah,” she replied with a shaky attempt to return his smile. “But aren’t we forgetting something?”

  He narrowed his gaze, a grin lurking inside the warm blue.

  “I’ll buy you dinner next time.”

  “Do you think, just for once, we can skip the jokes?”

  He laughed and kissed her.

  “Be right back.”

  Leaving her on the bed, he went to retrieve his sports backpack. Rory reflexively crossed her arms across her bare breasts, even though the empty cottage was washed in semi-darkness. She shivered, immediately missing his heat.

  “Aw, hell,” he muttered, halfway back.

  “What?”

  “I just dropped it. And I can’t see. It’s too dark in here. Oh, wait—hey, look, the light works!” Suddenly and startlingly, the room was illuminated. “Got it,” he announced, triumphant. He moved back towards the bed.

  “Matt!” she called out urgently, feeling too over-exposed in the glare. They weren’t even supposed to be here, much less doing this. “The light!”

  The room instantly swept back into darkness.

  He returned to her body, his lips grazing a path down her quivering abdomen. Shifting back on the bed, he hooked his fingers in the bikini bottoms to drag them past her hips and down her long legs before positioning himself between them. He shoved his own swim trunks down and off and then kissed the bend in her knee, the inside of her thigh, along her bikini line, until finally he was between her legs and his tongue was on her, doing things so indescribable that Rory almost couldn’t breathe, the pleasure was so acute.

  “Do you want me?” he whispered, pulling back, his hand still stroking, coaxing.

  “Yes,” she said, left breathless and quivering.

  He moved above her on the mattress, her gaze drifting over the lean cut of his muscles and the dark glow of his summer tan. The look on his face briefly switched to one of sweet, boyish concentration as he tore open the foil wrapper. Easing away slightly onto his side, she watched as he slid the condom on over his thick length, standing up at full attention.

  For a fleeting moment, she forgot how to breathe.

  Returning to wrap her in his embrace, his warm kisses covered her neck and breasts. Her hands were on his arms, then his shoulders, his neck, then his arms again, anything to hold onto as she began to feel weaker and weaker; the dull throb between her legs starting to intensify.

  Pressing the tip of his rigid erection to penetrate, he filled her slowly; her lithe body rolling up to meet him in a slow arch on her stuttered moan. He grasped her hips and stilled, her body tightening around him, overwhelmed by the incredible sensations.

  Her gasp melted into a hot moan as he finally began to move, filling her so completely with every long, steady stroke. He caught her hand in his, threading their fingers together, as their bodies found a rhythm, the ache of need building and receding in waves. He was so sweet, so passionate, it made her smile. Perhaps her doubt and uncertainty about his prior experience came from the fact he somehow knew exactly what he was doing—and knew exactly what to do to her. She was quickly becoming addicted.

  Easing his hips back, he slid out to sink inside again, propped on taut, strong arms above her. Rory couldn’t speak, only holding on, the quiet rumblings of thunder outside punctuated by their soft gasps and sighs.

  He kissed her neck, his arm sliding around to hold her close as he whispered in her ear. “Roll with me.”

  Momentarily confused, she was helpless to do anything but comply. For a minute it was slightly awkward, and he somehow felt too hard inside her—though she wasn’t sure if it would be dumb to say. Rory may be new to this, but was pretty sure it was supposed to work that way.

  He murmured reassurances, and slid his hands down her body, smoothing over the curve of her hips before repositioning her above him. Placing her hands flat on his solid chest, Rory straddled his body and sank down even deeper with the movement, but at a slightly different angle. She let out an involuntary moan. It felt so good.

  Smiling as she met his eyes, she started to move slowly until she found an instinctive, natural rhythm. Smooth sensations threaded through her body in spirals of pure pleasure. Her hips undulated to envelop his thick length in a long, sensuous slide, and she bent her head to kiss and lick his neck, tasting the ocean salt mixed with chlorine lingering on his bronzed tan. He groaned as her tongue swept his skin, muttering something incomprehensible.

  His hands traveled up her body in slow drifts of heat, moving almost reverently over her skin with a familiar ease as he whispered her name. Cradling her breasts in his hands, he pushed up the soft, pale domes and grazed the pad of his thumb over the rosy buds to tease them to tight peaks. Then he leaned up to take one against the moist heat of his tongue.

  Every single nerve ending in her body came alive, his mouth on her breast in a slow suck as he cupped his hands around to palm the twin curves of her rear end, guiding her on him so slow and deep.

  Rory uttered a hushed cry, back arched, her knees pressing into his thighs as he moved beneath her, against her. She lifted up to sink down again, and again, focused only on the incredible feel of him, throbbing so pleasurably as she took him deeper still, that perfect fit, so hot and hard inside her.

  She felt him shudder, the deep, intent blue of his eyes locked on her body as it moved on him, hands lightly gripped at her waist. Then he whispered her name, so thick and soft on his lips. His voice was laced with heat, fueled by need, blunt fingernails pressed into soft flesh, almost trying to restrain her movement.

  Usually it was him who had her breathless and begging by this point, mindless with need and whimpering for relief. It was thrilling, empowering, to know she could have a similar affect. As much as Rory would have enjoyed prolonging the sweet torture—if she even knew how to do such a thing—instead it spurred her on, her breath slipping out in rapid pants. His hands slid up to bury his fingers in her hair, fisting long silky strands as he arched upward off the bed. They were so close.

  Suddenly, without warning, the door to the cottage flew open to the driving forces of rain. Rory was briefly blinded by a harsh beam of light and her breathy cry immediately switched over to one of alarm to notice the hulking, dark figure in the doorway behind it.

  Matt scrambled to roll them, instinctively shielding her with the armor of his own body. Rory cringed, ducking down to curl against his heaving chest, glad to hide behind him.

  “Matt?”

  She immediately recognized the deep, authoritative tone, and heard the defeated groan of disbelief buried inside Matt’s response.

  “Yeah…it’s me.”

  Twenty minutes later, r
ed-faced and fully dressed, they were sitting next to each other in the back of Danny O’Shea’s police cruiser as he read off the list of their offenses from the front seat.

  “You two do realize you could be facing serious trespassing charges? Not to mention breaking and entering?”

  “And do you realize there was a major storm warning in effect with hurricane force winds?” Matt shot back. “We weren’t trying to rip the place off. We were there because it seemed like the preferable alternative to death.”

  “You shouldn’t have been out there in the first place!” Danny almost shouted, for a moment sounding a lot more like an older brother than a cop. “Plus we had reports of teenagers sneaking into a pool earlier. A neighbor called it in. Another house right out on Rock Harbor Road. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, now would you?”

  Matt didn’t say anything. Next to him Rory just squirmed in her seat, uncomfortable in about twenty different ways.

  His brother shifted his focus.

  “Not to mention your mother is worried sick, Rory.”

  She pressed her lips together, appropriately shamed, cheeks burnt by the sting of embarrassment.

  Perhaps Danny noticed this, because he seemed to soften. Pausing to release a heavy sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. All was quiet for a moment, his police cruiser still idling at the sandy edge of the dark seaside road.

  And then his voice lowered. “At least tell me you’re using protection.”

  “Hey!” Matt scowled, instantly outraged. He motioned towards Rory, obviously in a way meant to somehow spare her honor. “Come on!”

  She dropped her face into her hands. At this point her only hope might be to wish for a painless and speedy death.

  “I’m serious.” Danny refused to budge.

  Matt shook his head on a soft snort of disgust. “Yes, all right?” he said finally, only slightly calmer now. “I mean—what do you take me for? I love her.”

  Everyone went silent. As there could be no possible response under the circumstance, Danny just started up the car to drive away from the scene of the crime. Not another word was spoken until they pulled up in front of her house.