If they stayed together?

Rory laughed silently and without humor. He hadn’t really let her go in the first place, had he? Following her to class, riding past her building on the off chance he’d catch a glimpse. Now they’d found their way back into one another’s lives and she would probably spend the night in his bed. They were together. There was no going back.

Not for him.

He would die before putting that kind of pressure on her, though. This intelligent girl with the fucking world at her disposal, as it should be.

So Rory made a deal with himself. One that made his throat tighten and fear of the unknown take root. He’d allow himself to have Olive. He’d give her everything he knew how. If she decided someday that it wasn’t enough, he’d force himself to accept it.

Rory was still having a hard time swallowing as they pulled up in front of the house. He climbed off the bike, unhooking the helmet strap carefully from beneath her chin, his fingers unusually clumsy because he couldn’t concentrate around that smile.

“That was…”

“What?”

“Addictive,” she breathed, running her hands over the body of his bike. “I want one.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

Rory wrapped his hands around Olive’s waist and plucked her off the bike. “Do we need reminding about the walking in front of a bus incident? How about your near-drowning experience?” He took her hand and led her up the stoop to his front door, which he unlocked with a quick twist of the keys. “Now you’ve got a gash on your head. My heart can’t take it, sunbeam. Don’t do me like this.”

“Sorry. I’m duty bound as a woman to get a motorcycle now because a man told me no.” She gave him a pitying look. “I already decided on a red one.”

“Olive,” he growled, picking her up as they entered the kitchen. She squealed and twisted in his arms, leaving their bodies melded together and her feet off the ground. He opened his mouth to tell her once again, in no uncertain terms, he’d watch her ride a motorcycle over his dead body. Instead, he said, “Why don’t I teach you how to ride mine and we’ll see how it goes?

Her smile sent his heart up into his mouth. “You’ll really teach me?”

“Yeah.” God, he had it so fucking bad. “You’re already going to be the death of me. Just make sure you’re not the death of you, too.”

There they were again, their bodies straining to get closer, their mouths poised in that just about to kiss position, chests beginning to heave. Rory’s dick was in full protest mode, making its argument for instant gratification with a torturous throb. He could kiss her now, but he wouldn’t be able to stop…and God help him, he actually wanted to take it slow. Take it slow. Rory wasn’t sure he’d ever played that phrase in his head before, let alone spoken it aloud.

So be it. He’d just come home to an empty house with the girl who ruled his every waking thought. They were surrounded in quiet and all time restraints had faded away, making them two people coming home from a long day. Kind of like playing house, except his intentions were far more adult in nature. Simply put, he wanted the experience of witnessing Olive in his kitchen, in his staircase. Wanted to hear her footsteps on the floorboards.

Reluctantly, he eased Olive to her feet with a kiss to the forehead. “Want me to show you around?”

“Sure,” she murmured, visibly shaking herself. “Yes.”

He laced their fingers together, unable to stop himself from kissing her knuckles, brushing them with his thumb. “There’s a front door, but we never use it. We just come in through the kitchen.”

“What is that?” She pointed at the big, dented steel container sitting on the counter beside the stove.

“Those are Jiya’s spices.” He led her over to the metal drum and popped off the lid, revealing the compartments within. “These are kind of the staple Indian spices. Black mustard seeds, dried chili pepper, hardar—that’s turmeric powder—and a cumin coriander mixture.” He smiled. “If it weren’t for her, we’d probably eat nothing but takeout. She makes us help, though, so we’re getting better. I can make khichdi now without looking at the recipe.”

She leaned in and sniffed the spices. “I don’t think I’ve ever had it.”

“I’ll be your first.”

Olive’s eyes shot to his, drifting low to his mouth. Pink climbed her neck and Rory barely resisted following that color change with his tongue. “Um, speaking of firsts…” Olive said huskily. “I believe I’m owed a white Russian.”

Rory sighed through a smile. “I was hoping you’d forget.”

She leaned a hip against the counter. “You’re really in a moral quandary over giving me one alcoholic beverage?”

“Yeah.” After dragging a hand through his hair, he reached into the cabinet above the stove and took out their resident bottle of Absolut vodka. “I really am.”

Tags: Tessa Bailey Beach Kingdom Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net