Had To Be You (15 page)

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, red-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.

Matt reached over to take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, but Rory could barely smile at him as she slid away to climb out of the car. Danny held the cruiser door for her, and she reluctantly met his eyes.

“Rory,” he spoke very seriously, almost confidentially, “you have to be more careful.”

Nodding her head up and down, she bit her bottom lip, feeling like she might cry. And Danny let her go, never clarifying.

Should she be more careful not to trespass, be careful not to get caught outside in a bad storm, or be careful not to engage in underage, unprotected sex?

Or maybe he simply meant with his little brother’s heart.

NINE

Rory drifted along the harbor wall, gazing out at the blue ocean, while other guests sipped on Nantucket Reds in their summer whites. Faint strains of music rolled down the grassy green hill to crash into the foamy spray of the surf, broken by the staccato cry of seagulls as the sun bounced bright off the water.

And it was official. She was in hell.

It was a bigger turnout than she could have expected, if she ever expected it at all. Despite the fact she grew up in this small town, she was surprised to not recognize many faces. It finally dawned on Rory that this was mostly Amanda’s contingent.

They seemed to come in all shapes and sizes, too—small ones, tall ones, big ones, little ones. And for the past two hours, she’d watched her drag him from group to group, making introductions and small talk—small talk, tall talk, big talk, little talk.

Okay, so she was also a bit drunk.

It wasn’t really her fault. Confounded by doubt and anxiety, she meant to arrive fashionably late but instead wound up here embarrassingly early. She regretted her decision to go with the O’Shea brothers almost immediately, since as soon as they got here there was talk of some combined family photo on the great lawn. Rory really, really didn’t want to have to bear witness to that.

Thankfully, to her great relief, the bartender was setting up under the rented tent out back and had a few bottles of champagne on ice. She quickly made him her new best friend.

Danny and Kevin were now somewhere in the family crowd under the shade of the wide veranda porch, but she didn’t go join them. At any other event, they would all have great fun trading old stories and swapping jokes at Matt’s expense. But today wasn’t just any other event, and somehow she just didn’t have the heart for it.

Leaning back against the stone wall, she smoothed a hand down the light fabric of her short sun dress. She’d purchased an insanely overpriced pair of dainty heels at a new boutique downtown to wear with it, and now her feet were crying for mercy. Tomorrow they would be tossed to the back of her closet, never to be worn again, and she’d be paying off the credit card bill for months.

She didn’t know why she always did the things that she’d only regret.

The wind ruffled the water and she shivered slightly, feeling exposed even while basking in the glow of the sun. She brushed the windswept hair from her eyes to watch Amanda work her party from afar. She wore a sleeveless sheath, a dress style she seemed to favor, and as she talked, one hand continually drifted up to play with her earring. She found reason to toss her head back in laughter a little too often, and not once would she unlock her other hand from Matt’s arm.

Rory supposed she could see the attraction. She just never knew he liked them monotonous, nervous, and insecure.

She retracted the claws of her inner cattiness, wondering if she only imagined him to look so uncomfortable right now, and then she wondered if it had been too long for her to even presume. Not really being in the mood to delve into any deep examination of feelings right now (most especially not her own) Rory decided to just get another drink.

Halfway across the lawn, she heard her name and turned to see a vaguely familiar person smiling at her.

“It’s Tara,” she explained, pretty and petite with a loose spray of brown curls. “We lived in the same dorm freshman year, remember?”

Placed within the context of that leafy city campus, recognition dawned.

“Oh, yes, right. Hello.”

“And this is my friend Bethany.” She gestured towards the pale blonde to her right.

“Nice to meet you.” Rory managed a smile, having come today armed with all the necessary social graces and survival skills.

“Amazing party, right?” Tara continued. “Amanda really lucked out on the weather. This is such a beautiful place.”

Rory followed her gaze to the water. The harbor was the same endless view she had known all her life. Yet today, somehow, it looked different. It pained her face to keep the smile so firmly in place, and she hoped they didn’t notice when it slipped a little.

“You both know Amanda?”

“Yes, since high school. Our parents are all good friends. And how do you know each other?”

“We don’t—know each other, I mean.” She caught the tight, jagged edge in her curt tone and immediately attempted to smooth it out. “Or at least we didn’t, until recently. I’m actually a family friend of the O’Shea’s. I grew up here in town, with Matt.”

This simple statement of fact belied such a long and complex history it almost made it sound like another blatant fabrication.

“Oh, really? Well, we think Matt’s adorable. And
so
funny! I can just imagine him as a kid—always up to no good, I bet.”

They both laughed and Rory was able to relax her smile, easing it into a more genuine curve. Most who met Matt couldn’t help but be charmed and entertained, and she knew what she should be remembering is all his mischievous and hilarious childhood pranks. Instead, she saw him at sixteen, sneaking her away late at night to the beach under the stars.

“Lucky for me, Matt is a grown-up now,” said a voice from behind.

Startled, defenses down, Rory turned to find herself face-to-face with the enemy.

“Hello, Rory.”

She quickly regrouped, assuming the same careful, reserved tone. “Hello, Amanda.”

Up close, she was struck by the near flawless porcelain sheen of her skin, even in broad daylight, and resisted the urge to touch a hand to the faint dusting of gold freckles across her own nose. Amanda’s dark, sleek bob was pushed behind her ears, revealing two diamond solitaires. Under her long, sun-washed hair, Rory’s ears were bare. So, of course, was her finger.

“Do boys ever really grow up?” posed Bethany with a grin. “Or did you just get lucky?”

Rory felt the prickly heat of defensiveness rise, a conditioned reflex she couldn’t quite control. ”Well, you might think so,” she blurted out, answering for her. “But that’s a good question. Do they really?”

“I’m pretty confident I’m marrying a grown-up,” Amanda stated with just the faintest hint of a self-satisfied smirk. “Maybe some keep their things, their toys. Like my dad with his weekly golf game, or Matt with his boat. But the rest, those dalliances of youth? Trust me, those are long behind him.”

“I don’t really think Matt would categorize his boat as a toy,” Rory said, even when she knew she shouldn’t. She’d lost her virginity on that boat one summer night, floating on a sea of stars. She probably shouldn’t say that either.

He was her first. Then again, he was all her firsts.

Amanda rolled her eyes in a way that was most likely meant to be cute. “By the way, did Rory happen to mention she was Matt’s high school sweetheart?” she asked the others before turning to her with a quizzical tilt of her head. “Or were you just,
like
, a crush? I don’t think we talked about that when we met the other day, and I can’t quite get the story straight from him.”

“I don’t know. Maybe—
like—
dalliance is the word you’re looking for.”

From their stricken faces, Rory suspected her sarcastic humor must have accidently misfired and killed the conversation. Tara, to her credit, made a valiant attempt to revive it.

“So, Amanda, what are your bridesmaids’ dresses like?”

“They’re strapless,” she replied, narrowing her gaze at Rory before dismissing her altogether, “in a shade of lavender. Definitely something they can wear again.”

“Oh, good for you,” Bethany said. “Two of my friends are getting married this year and I’m in both their weddings. I’m going to go broke.”

“Maybe the trick is to surround yourself with people who are unable to commit,” Rory tried to joke again. “I guess I’m lucky that none of my friends are getting married yet.”

“Well, except
Matt
, of course,” Amanda said pointedly.

She hesitated, almost stunned. Perhaps, however, she’d been asking for this little bitch-slap of reality.