Текст книги "Breaking a Legend"
Автор книги: Sarah Robinson
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
Chapter 10
There was absolutely no way Clare was going to be able to eat now. Not after what had just transpired with Rory. Every time he got close to her, she lost her ability to even think rationally. Her heart was still pounding against her ribs, threatening to tear through and make a run for it.
Clare bit her lip, thinking about the sweat that had been glistening on his perfectly sculpted and wide biceps jutting out from underneath a loose tank top over long gym shorts. He had towered over her, making her feel so small, which she liked for some reason.
Casey, having just returned to the front counter, raised one brow as she watched her friend. “You look like you’re deep in thought there.”
“Huh? No, I’m not.” Clare tried to push the image of Rory’s flat, solid torso and his thick, muscular legs out of her mind, but she felt her cheeks flush, giving her away.
“I see our food coming and I’m starving, so I’m just going to pretend you’re not totally full of shit right now.”
“Your deliveryman is here, ladies!” Kane announced, waltzing in the door carrying a big brown paper bag.
“Finally!” Casey grabbed the bag out of his hands and tore into it, finding her sandwich.
“You’re welcome, Casey.”
Casey already had one end of her sandwich stuffed into her mouth, so she just nodded and waved her hand.
“Here, you’ve got the mutt, so I’m assuming you’re the one in charge of feeding it.” Kane handed Clare a wrapped sandwich that actually said Ace across the top in black marker.
“You’re delivering dog food now?” Clare grinned, taking the sandwich and unwrapping it, still unsure how she had wound up with the job.
“Hey, doesn’t this come with a pickle…” Casey piped up, trailing off as Kane shot her an irritated look. He grabbed his and Rory’s sandwiches and stalked off, muttering under his breath dramatically.
“You could have at least thanked him, girl,” Clare scolded lightly.
“Eh, yeah, but Kane is too full of himself. I like to knock him down a few pegs every once in a while.”
Clare placed the unwrapped sandwich on the ground and watched for a moment as the dog devoured it quickly. The women followed suit and ate their sandwiches, chatting for an hour before the gym started to get busy, forcing Casey to focus on manning the front desk. Clare had to be at work soon, so she headed out to take the short walk over to O’Leary’s. It was cold as usual, so she was glad that she was wrapped in a jacket, but she wasn’t eager to walk home tonight when it would be even colder.
She smiled as she shuffled into the bar, wondering if Rory would be there to walk her home tonight. She knew he would be, but every time he was, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was the last. She didn’t exactly have faith in him to be reliable, not with all the drinking he still took part in. And if her past had taught her anything, it was that men took what they wanted and left once they had it.
Despite those doubts and what she had learned to expect in the past, Rory had just stolen her phone number. She didn’t know what else to call it, but it definitely wasn’t the action of a disinterested man. The thought excited and terrified her all at once. She had agreed to a date. An actual date.
Do people even go on those anymore?
She was pretty sure her last date has been in middle school, way before Travis, and had involved going to the mall together to walk around awkwardly and grab a soft pretzel. The kind of date where you barely acknowledged the other one existed, and then bragged about it to all your friends in the cafeteria the next day.
“Clare, can you not give out our phone number to your friends? This is a place of business, not your home. Don’t you have a cellphone or something?” A barrage of accusations and questions were flung at her the moment she treaded through the back door into O’Leary’s back office.
“What are you talking about, Cian?”
“I’ve gotten four calls today asking for you! This is not a place to socialize. It’s a place to work.” Cian narrowed his eyes at her, then tossed his hands up and lumbered away.
“Uh, okay?” she said to no one in particular as she paced over to the employee lockers and put her things away, wondering who was calling her.
Her stomach was immediately in knots. Everyone she wanted to be in contact with had her new cellphone number, but no one from her old life knew where she was or where she was working. She didn’t have any friends here, unless you counted Casey and the Kavanagh brothers—but she had been with them all morning at the gym.
She tied her apron around her waist and walked out to the bar, pulling her hair back into a bun. Anxiety settled in the back of her mind as she breathed deeply and tried to push away the dark thoughts of everything she had run from. Everything that she had done.
It couldn’t be him; he couldn’t possibly know where she was.
She had been very careful to cover her tracks.
Luckily, the bar was already busy with patrons, so she was able to forget about her worries and focus on mixing drinks and serving customers. She was becoming better at making drinks, and people were starting to ask for her, becoming her regulars. Most of them were men who were just hoping they would get a chance to see her bend over, but hey, at least they tipped well.
Many weary, nonstop hours later, Clare closed and locked the front doors of the bar after saying good-bye to the last patron. She began putting the chairs up and wiping the tables down as Cian emptied the register and worked on counting the day’s profits. As Clare was finishing up the last of her tasks and collecting her things from her locker in the back of the restaurant, she heard a knocking on the metal back door.
“It’s almost two in the damn morning! What’s your boyfriend doing on my camera?” Cian shouted out from the office, a few feet away from the monitors for the bar’s security cameras.
“I’ll get it,” she responded, attempting to mask her excitement at the idea of Rory being on the other side of the door.
Her breath hitched when she opened the back door and the light from the restaurant fell over Rory, standing in the dark alley. His silver eyes were almost glistening, but somehow still held a darkness to them that made her shiver. She leaned against the doorway and smiled at him. All worries and thoughts about the strange phone calls earlier completely disappeared the moment she laid eyes on him.
Clare spoke first as he stepped toward her. “I thought you said one of these days you might not be here.”
He touched her shoulder, then slowly slid his hand down to her elbow. “I wouldn’t want you to miss me.”
She felt her skin heat beneath his fingers as she bit her lip. His arm was all muscle; from his bulging bicep to his rounded forearm, he radiated strength. She noticed an image on his forearm that she briefly remembered, but realized that she had never stopped to inspect it before. She couldn’t make out what it was, since it disappeared under the sleeve of his shirt.
“Are you done with work?”
“Almost. Why?”
“I have plans for us and I am not a patient man.” His voice was lowered, husky, and inviting. Her eyes flickered up to his.
“Oh, um, yeah, I’m done,” she stammered, lumbering back to hurriedly grab her purse and coat.
“I’m leaving, Cian!” she called out, as she followed Rory toward the door.
“You better have finished all your side work,” she heard him grumble, but she ignored him as Rory grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door.
“Where’s Ace?” she asked, glancing around them.
“I left him with Quinn for the night—he’ll bring him to the gym tomorrow. I felt bad the other night when I stayed over and forgot to feed him dinner. But tonight is about us.”
“Oh, yeah? What type of plans did you make?” Clare asked him as he wrapped his hand around hers, savoring the warmth of her tiny fingers between his. She stiffened at the intimate contact, although he wasn’t sure why.
“You never heard of a surprise, Clare?” He began directing her down a different street than they usually took home.
“Not all surprises are good ones,” she said softly.
He detected a hint of sadness in her voice, as though there was a story behind that lesson learned. He made a note to himself to find out more, but tonight was to be all about good things. Happy surprises only. Someone had definitely taken his time disappointing and breaking this woman, and Rory wanted nothing more than to build her back up.
“Mhuirnín, my surprises will always be good ones.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips softly against its back, catching her emerald eyes with his.
“So, you’re not going to tell me at all?”
“Not one hint.”
“What if you’re kidnapping me?” She giggled and he warmed, enjoying hearing her laugh.
“I would never do something you don’t want. Whatever happens tonight, mhuirnín, you will be begging me for it.” He winked at her, her cheeks turning bright red.
“Well, you can get those thoughts right out of your head, mister,” she said in an unsteady voice after a moment’s silence.
“What thoughts?”
“You know—all that stuff you were just insinuating. Just because the other night happened doesn’t mean it’s going to happen again,” she said uncomfortably, turning an even brighter shade of red that he couldn’t help but find adorable.
Rory couldn’t stop from laughing at her uncertain response. He could tell she was worried about not appearing easy to get into bed. He knew without a doubt that she wasn’t that type of woman—everything about her was poised and strong. Their night together hadn’t been common; no part of it would ever come close to that in his mind.
“It’s not funny!” Clare tried to sound mad, as she clearly didn’t appreciate being laughed at. It wasn’t very convincing, though, since her hand was still wrapped tightly in his and she was still willingly following him.
“Clare, would you feel better if I promised that you’re completely in charge of anything that may or may not happen physically tonight?” The moment he said it, he hoped she would say no.
He really didn’t want to make that promise and was shocked that the words had even come out of his mouth. His main concern was that he was already having a hard enough time right now not pushing her up against a wall and burying himself deep inside her. He was suddenly thankful that none of his brothers were around to see him fall so blatantly over a girl that he would fully give up the reins to her.
“Actually, it would.”
Damn it.
“Fine, Clare Ivers. You have my sworn vow that no matter how much you try to seduce me tonight, I will not give in to your temptress ploys and let you have your way with me.”
“Well, I didn’t say that,” she backtracked, smacking his chest playfully with her free hand.
“Then I take it all back,” he teased as they fell in step beside each other.
Things went quiet between them as they rounded the final corner to his destination. He knew that if it was daylight, she would already recognize where they were, but Woodlawn appeared much different at night. It was still, and sometimes gloomy.
“If you’re taking me to work out, that wouldn’t be a good surprise. It might even be a little offensive.”
“For someone who isn’t from here, you’re really starting to learn your way around, huh?” He saw her lift her chin in pride, and he resisted the urge to kiss her right then.
“Well, what are we doing, then?”
“Jeez, Clare, can’t you just let me have my moment here?” He pulled the keys to the gym out of his pocket.
“We’re having a moment now?” she responded sarcastically, pulling her hand out of his and crossing her arms as he fiddled with the lock on the door.
He got it open and turned to face her, grabbing her elbow and pulling her toward his chest. She was close, but not touching him. He could still smell the hint of vanilla she seemed to always walk around in. He paused just long enough to see her chest begin to rise and fall quickly and her lashes flicker up to meet his eyes.
“No, I’m having a moment, and you’re the woman I want to spend it with.” His voice was soft and sincere, and he meant what he said.
He had never done anything before like he was about to do for Clare. He didn’t understand it, but he didn’t want to stop, either.
She licked her lips, and as she turned from him and walked through the door he was holding open, he saw her tremble slightly, making him want to break his promise to her right then and there.
Chapter 11
Clare’s mind was running a thousand miles a minute as she stepped down the dark hallway at Legends. She had come to know it well over the last few weeks, attending Casey’s classes. She was fully aware of Rory patrolling behind her, his steps heavy on the ground but somehow also comforting in the darkness around them—a fact that confused her, since she had become so protective of her independence.
“Rory, what the—” Clare stopped in her tracks as she exited the hallway into the main room of the gym.
The room was large and open, with multiple rings for fighters to practice in surrounding the main cage in the exact center of the room. It was larger than the rest, and higher up off the ground. She had seen Rory and Kane practicing in there many times before, but tonight it was something she had never seen before.
“You did this for me?” She turned around to consider him, tears welling in her eyes. She swore she saw him blush, but it was instantly gone as he took her hand, pulling her toward the ring.
Each corner of the cage was adorned with a trio of tall white candles of varying heights, glowing beautifully in the darkness and illuminating the center of the ring. As she surveyed the space, she realized they were flickering flameless candles, which made her smile at his practicality. A blue-and-white checkered blanket lay flat between the candles, held down by a few cushions of varying shades of blue and a wicker basket to one side. There was an ice bucket, with a carafe of water and a bottle of champagne.
“Come on, let’s get in,” he told her as they reached the edge of the ring, then without asking or warning, he gripped either side of her waist and lifted her straight up onto the platform.
She grabbed the rope wall that surrounded the cage to steady herself, then slipped through the opening, shaped like a padded door, into the cage area. Rory followed her and the two sat on cushions in the center of the candlelit ring.
“I don’t know what to say, Rory. I’ve never had anyone make me a picnic before. Especially after midnight. And in the middle of a cage?”
“I like to do things a little different.” He smiled at her, then proceeded to open the picnic basket and pull out the contents that he had prepared for them.
“Since it’s pretty late at night, I figured you already ate dinner. So, this is dessert.” He flashed her a wicked smile, and she felt her face flush at the direction her mind was going.
“Homemade honey-almond brittle—my mom’s recipe, but I gave it a try, so hopefully it tastes as good as hers does. Plus I have dark chocolate, and sparkling cider.”
“Sparkling cider?” Clare repeated, sounding surprised, as he pulled the bottle out of the ice bucket to show her. She had originally thought it was champagne when she had seen it.
“Someone I admire once told me not to lose myself to drinking.” He fiddled with the seal on the bottle, avoiding her stare.
“Rory, I didn’t mean to…” Her voice came out soft and sad. Guiltily, she wondered if she had made him feel bad about himself.
“No, you were right, Clare. I need to stop depending on liquor for everything. My knee is killing me, but you were right.”
Smiling, she picked up a small piece of the honey-almond brittle and nibbled on it, surprised to find that it melted in her mouth, tasting undeniably sweet. Her eyes widened as she contemplated what she was eating, admiring the fact that this rough-shaven hulk of a man had created something so delicate.
“It’s great, isn’t it?”
“Holy crap, Rory, this is amazing! I can’t believe you made it.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” he taunted, pulling out two fluted glasses, which he placed between them.
He opened the bottle, breaking the seal, and poured a small amount of cider into each glass. He picked up both glasses and handed one to her.
“Thank you.” She began to lift the glass to her lips, but he touched her forearm, stalling her.
“Can’t drink until we make a toast…”
“All right.” She joined him as he lifted his glass up toward hers.
“To the first person I’ve ever been in the cage with that I’ve wanted to kiss.” He smirked as she scrunched up her nose at him.
“Thank goodness for that.” She took a sip from her glass, almost wishing she were drinking alcohol to help calm the butterflies flying around inside her. He reached out his hand to touch her gently, and as he did, his shirt sleeve rode up, revealing part of the tattoo that she had seen earlier.
“What is that?” She motioned to it, letting her fingers trail over that spot on his skin for just a second before she jerked her hand away, embarrassed.
She hoped he didn’t notice how taken she was with the design. Plus, she felt a bit shy that she had seen him entirely naked and had slept in those same arms, yet somehow hadn’t paid attention to any of his tattoos.
“This was my very first tattoo. I was way too young to have gotten it, but I was born on August first—a Leo, if you ever read the horoscopes. So, on my seventeenth birthday I convinced a friend of mine whose father owned a tattoo shop to get me in. He gave me this lion.” Rory rolled up his sleeve and stretched out his forearm, showing an intricate and detailed figure of a roaring lion.
“It’s beautiful, and it’s perfect for you.” Clare continued to admire it as he poured them both another drink.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know…The other day Casey called you a wolf. But you’re not a wolf—everything about you is lion.”
“You’ve been thinking about what kind of animal I am?” He seemed amused.
“Why not?”
“Hmm, then I’m going to have to come up with an animal for you.”
“If you pick kitten, I swear I’m walking out of here right now.” Clare cocked her head, and Rory simpered, looking smug.
“Don’t worry, little mhuirnín. You are most definitely not a kitten.”
“Good, because I’d like to think I’m more original than that.”
“Is a lion original?” He flexed his arm again, showing off his tattoo.
“Not really,” she teased, touching his arm again, “but if it makes you feel any better, Casey called me a duck.”
Rory burst out laughing at that, a deep belly laugh with his head thrown back.
“It’s not that funny.”
“It’s hilarious. You’re not a duck.” He squeezed her arm gently. “But we should change the topic or I’m going to keep laughing at that.”
“All right, how about the topic of how I found out your secret yesterday?” she teased, enjoying regaining the upper hand.
He raised one brow, intrigued at her revelation. “My secret? What’s that?”
“Ace, and Woodlawn Rescues,” Clare started to say, as he rubbed his hand across his face in an attempt to hide the redness creeping up his cheeks.
“I knew I should have revoked Patty’s membership years ago,” he joked.
“Why didn’t you tell me? You know I love animals.”
“I wasn’t hiding it, I just didn’t think about it. My family doesn’t know about my work there, so I don’t talk about it often.”
“Why not?” She couldn’t understand why such a close-knit family would be kept out of such an innocent part of his life. From her little experience with his parents, she knew that they would respect Rory’s work and be proud of him. They didn’t seem the type of people to discourage their children about anything.
“Most of them aren’t really into animals like I am—only Quinn loves dogs. Plus I like having something that’s just mine. When you grow up in a big family, everything you own and every part of your life is shared. I like having something the others don’t know about. Maybe that’s weird.”
“No, it makes sense, I guess. I don’t know much about families.” Nostalgia filled her voice, and Rory reached out to squeeze her knee, then refilled her now empty glass.
“My family loves you, and I’m glad that you found out about the rescue,” he told her.
“Why’s that?”
“Because how would I have ever really told you? Oh, hey, girl-I’m-trying-to-impress, I volunteer four times a week at an animal shelter,” he joked in a mocking tone.
“You’re right, there’s no way to say it without sounding like you’re either bragging or lying.”
“See my point? But now you know something no one else knows about me. I like that.” Clare noted a sad expression in his silver eyes when he nodded, although she couldn’t exactly place why. Maybe he wanted more people to know who he really was, or maybe he was struggling to figure out who that was; she wasn’t sure.
He interrupted her thoughts, reverting back to the subject of their earlier conversation. “Do you have any tattoos, Clare?”
“No way—I’m absolutely terrified of needles.” Clare shook her head vigorously.
“You seem to like my tattoo,” he hinted, pulling the blanket under her toward him slightly so that her knees were almost against his, sliding her across the ground with such ease.
“Do you like it, Clare?” His voice had dropped lower, as if she could hear it rumbling in his chest.
Her eyes dropped back down to the lion, and she licked her lips. Taking another sip of her cider, she nodded. Then she downed the rest of the glass quickly, feeling a flush of warmth rush to her cheeks and through the rest of her as his gaze flamed through hers. She felt an overwhelming urge to let him in, to push away her fears and make the most of the here and now. To take charge of those fears and herself.
She had lived in fear for so long. Fear of being alone. Fear of being with someone. Fear of Travis and his fury when he realized what she had done. Fear of moving on or running away. Fear of losing those she loved or of the past catching up with her.
Fear of everything.
With Rory, in the golden hue of the candlelit ring, all she wanted to do was push away those fears and be who she had been before everything changed. Before she had thrown away her entire life for a chance to start new.
“Clare?” His fingers found her chin, tilting her head up, making her realize that she had been lost in her thoughts.
She moved slowly, sliding her legs underneath herself and pushing up to her knees. Rory stayed still, watching her intently, his silver eyes turning dark and murky. She crawled right onto his lap, sliding one leg around each side of his waist so that she was facing him. Her movements were slow and careful, and she savored each touch, each second, each discovery.
She could feel his chest rising quickly under his breath; he was aroused at her proximity. It made her feel powerful, to be able to have that effect on him. Her hands rested against his chest and they both stared down at them, watching as her hands moved up and onto his shoulders, disappearing around to the back of his neck. Their eyes met.
Then nothing was slow.
His lips crashed on hers so forcefully, she was sure she would have fallen backward if his hands hadn’t been wrapped around her waist, holding her up. She returned his kiss with a greediness and hunger that she didn’t know she possessed. Everything about him, his touch and even the way he fit against her, was perfect.
Her arms tightly around his neck, she lost herself in him and pushed so forcefully against him that he fell backward onto the mat. His arms held her tight against his chest and her mind was quiet for the first time in as long as she could remember.
He had turned off everything, except for her.
But just as quickly as it started, it stopped. Rory gently pulled his mouth from hers and pushed her up, putting distance between them and forcing her to sit up. Startled, Clare flushed, feeling slightly embarrassed.
“I’m sorry, was that wrong? I don’t usually—I mean, I don’t know what I was—”
“Clare, no. That was—” Rory rubbed his hands over his eyes in frustration. “Fuck, that was amazing, Clare. But I made you a promise.”
Clare slid off him, sitting next to his waist, with one leg over his hips. Frowning, she nibbled on the edge of her lip.
“Did I misread something here? I thought you wanted me. Crap, that sounds so silly. I’m sorry.”
“Clare, I want you so much right now, it physically fucking hurts. But this is different—you’re different, Clare. I promised you we would go slow and that you were in charge tonight. Remember my promise?”
“Rory—” she tried to interrupt.
Clare, if there is one thing I am, it’s true to my word. I just want this to be your choice, something I feel like you haven’t gotten a lot of in your life. I don’t want to just have one amazing night with you, which this would be. Believe me, mhuirnín, the other night was by far the most fan-fucking-tastic night of my life. I want this to be more than that.”
“I don’t know what to say.” She would be lying if she said she wasn’t thrilled to hear him say how much he had enjoyed their previous night together.
“I sound like some weak pansy, don’t I?”
Clare snorted at that last statement. Rory was anything but weak.
“Rory, what do you want from me?” she asked as he grabbed her arms and pulled her down to lie on the mat with him.
He lay flat on his back with her head on his shoulder and one of his arms wrapped around her back. Her hand rested on his chest, feeling the steady, fast beat underneath. It felt like she had done this all her life, lived right there pressed against his side. Legs intertwined, fingers interlocked. As if his body was made to hold her.
“Clare, I’m swinging in the dark here. I’ve no clue what I’m doing. All I know is that this is different. I don’t want to just have one night with you. I think I might want every night with you, and I can’t even believe those words are coming out of my mouth right now…”
“Why? Is that a bad thing?” His words were thrilling and terrifying at the same time. She continued to push his resolve, questioning him, and the truth hit her. She wanted to be with Rory, she wanted him to be with her. All the promises she had made herself about staying single, not wanting a man…none of that had factored in meeting this man.
She wanted this man.
“With you? No, never. It just surprises me, I guess.” He pushed a piece of her hair behind her ear.
“It surprises me, too.”
“Did Patty tell you what I do at the shelter?” he asked her a few moments later as they lay quietly together. Clare nodded.
“Well, this might make me sound like an even bigger pansy, but I love rehabilitating those dogs, because they’re a lot like me. Most of them were raised from puppies to be fighters, or to be in that type of world. Ace was a bait dog—they pulled out his biggest teeth the moment they grew in, then filed down the rest. That’s why he’s all covered in scars. They used him for other dogs to practice on, to learn how to fight, and took away any chance he had at defending himself.”
“That’s so sad.” She thought of the sweet dog she had come to enjoy seeing and petting. Her heart ached at the thought.
“It is, but when I got him, I showed him a new life. Showed him that there were other options out there, aside from a life of fighting. I guess it gives me hope, you know? Like maybe there are other options out there for me, too. That maybe by teaching these tough, beaten-down dogs how to trust and love again, maybe somehow I’ll learn that, too.” His voice trailed off and she squeezed her arm around him tighter, hugging him.
She stayed silent as she listened, reveling in this other side of him. He always seemed to surprise her. One day she would see the rough fighter who punched her boss, the next day a man feeding a stray dog, and the next a broken man sharing with her the most private parts of his pain.
“Does that make any sense at all, mhuirnín?”
“I think so. You’ve played different roles and lived different lives, just like those dogs. A few years ago you were only known as Rory Kavanagh, son of the famous Kavanagh clan.”
“Irish troublemakers.”
“Then you became champion mixed martial arts fighter Rory ‘Knockout’ Kavanagh.” She traced circles on his chest with her fingers.
“Top ten in the country,” he said proudly.
“And now? Who do you want to be now?”
“I’ve been wondering that for some time.”
“Have you come close to figuring it out?”
Rory’s eyes darkened at her words.
“I think I’m getting closer, and it’s only because of you.”
Clare felt a stab at her heart, a pain whose origin she couldn’t pinpoint. All she knew was that she hurt for Rory; she could feel the vulnerability in his words. It was hidden, but it was there. It was laced so thick between every word, she wanted to take it all away.
She wanted to give him all the answers he had been searching for.
She wanted to be those answers.
“Kiss me again, Rory,” she commanded, freeing him from his promise earlier.
“Maybe tomorrow.” Rory chuckled, and she felt the ripple in his chest against her cheek as she narrowed her eyes, not liking his answer.
“Seriously?”
“Mhuirnín, I would never tell you no.” Rory flipped over on top of her, maneuvering quickly as his voice dripped with desire and his lips closed over hers.
She froze in surprise at his sudden movement, then melted into his arms. His hand pushed underneath her shirt, his fingers cold against her skin. She welcomed the chill, since she felt like she was on fire. With his help Clare shimmied out of her top, throwing her shirt to the side.
“You’re not wearing a bra?” He raised his brows, looking surprised as she blushed fiercely.
“Problem?”
“Hell, no.” He wet his lips with his tongue before dipping his head down and finding a pert pink nipple. He tugged gently, bringing it to attention as she arched her back to get closer to him.
He moved up to find her lips with his, their tongues meeting and twisting in a slow, deep dance. She felt his fingers trace her collarbone, and she shivered under the intimate touch. He continued to trace his way across her bare chest, then stomach, until he found the waistband of her pants and hooked his fingers into it.
Pausing for a moment, he pulled his weight from her, kneeling over her as he removed her jeans in a few quick motions. She licked her lips as he slid his shirt over his head, revealing hard, defined abs. She scrambled up to her knees at the sight, facing him.
