The storm broke and Olive sank her teeth into her lower lip, limbs shaking as the orgasm rolled through her like thunder, so intense that her calf muscles were immediately sore, her throat strained from trying to stay quiet. “Oh m’God.” She turned over and stared up at the ceiling, proverbial canaries circling around her head. “That has to be some kind of record.”
Olive sat up and looked around, fanning her skin to cool the dappling of sweat. She didn’t know about the rest of the house, but Rory’s room was pretty tidy. There were some articles of clothing discarded on the floor—hers included—but there were no dust bunnies running around. He had a calendar hanging on the wall by the door, notations beginning two weeks ago, and her heart tripled its pace, just imagining him going out and buying organizational supplies. Wanting to do better.
She got out of bed and dressed in her clothes from the night before, crossing to the dresser so she could look at the one framed photo in the room. It was the three brothers standing on the stoop in order of height, a laughing woman Olive assumed was their mother holding a pizza delivery box…and a serious man staring at them through a window in the background.
Last night, they’d talked about Rory’s mother, but not his father. In fact, was it her imagination or had he tried to avoid the subject of his dad?
Olive shook off the odd thought. They had plenty of time to talk about everything. And there was a lot to discuss. Olive still didn’t know what had provoked Rory in the fight that sent him to prison—and everyone seemed determined to safeguard that information. Which, unfortunately, only made her want it more.
Before Olive left the room, she ran her index finger over the lid of the laptop. Which video had he been watching? With a swallow, she started to lift up the screen, but stopped herself. These videos that made so many people happy only reminded her that she’d been abandoned.
Her gaze couldn’t help but drift back to the picture of Rory.
Abandoned. He wouldn’t do that to her…again. Would he? Not after last night. After they’d found their way back to each other and proved it was too difficult to stay away. I just want to earn you. Olive held on to Rory’s words on her way to the house next door. And when her phone lit up with a text message from the man himself—I miss the hell out of you, sunbeam—she straightened her spine and shoved the foreboding aside.
You’ve fallen in love. Stop worrying and enjoy it.
But the fear had already built a nest in the back of her head.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Rory let out the breath he’d been holding when he saw Olive waiting outside her building, staring down at the open book in her hands. She was gorgeous in the early morning sunlight, her blonde hair lit up with a halo. Such an angel. She smiled, big and open, when she saw his bike approaching, stowing the book in her bag, and his throat cinched up. Fuuuuck. He wasn’t going to get used to this. The anticipation that had been plaguing his gut since leaving her in his bed yesterday was replaced by trepidation this morning while he got ready.
Wouldn’t it…couldn’t it take the smallest thing for her to get over him? His old-ass house. His work schedule. The fact that he didn’t make a ton of money. All of it combined. She was an eighteen-year-old girl. Fickle, right?
Then he saw her and remembered. She’s not like anyone else. She’s Olive.
A snapping connection reeled him closer, so wild and tangible, he almost forgot she was standing outside of an expensive doorman building. Wearing a backpack. Those things were just enough to remind him of the vow he’d made to himself. No more staying away. God, no. But if she ever decided he wasn’t the best man to make her happy…no matter how much he was willing to bust his ass and try…he’d figure out a way to leave her alone. Even if it killed him.
For now, though? For now, he wasn’t going to take a single second of having this girl in his life for granted. In the short time he’d known her, she’d inspired him to see himself differently. Made him ask the hard questions. What am I capable of?
Little by little he was finding out.
He’d taken to heart what she’d said yesterday morning. About taking on more responsibility and improving his situation for himself—and it made a lot of sense. He was going to work on that, but it was hard to do a goddamn thing at the moment without attributing it to his need to be a better man for Olive. Maybe he’d get there eventually. Rory didn’t know. He just needed to get his hands on the girl who hadn’t left his mind for a single second since yesterday. Hell, for weeks.