Breakaway (30 page)

“It’s beautiful,” said Erin, overwhelmed. It caught the light perfectly, a rainbow of colors reflecting every facet of the ring. She held her hand out in front of her. She recognized it from all those trips to the shop years before. It was magical. Real. Hers.

“It’s our ring,” she whispered. “From when we used to pretend.”

“It is. I’m glad it’s still your taste,” Rory laughed. “I brought San with me to help pick it out. It was like bringing Elizabeth Bloody Taylor.”

“That’s San.”

“I bought something for her as well. A tennis bracelet. You woulda thought I’d bought her the Hope Diamond.”

“That’s so lovely of you, Rory.”

“It felt like the right thing to do.”

“It was.”

Rory took her hand, examining the ring closely. “I don’t want you to ever take this off. Ever.”

“Why would I want to?”

Rory gave a small grimace as he sat down on the blanket, Erin following suit. He lay back, his fingers entwined on his chest as he gazed up through the branches of the tree. “I’m trying to figure out how I only broke my collarbone and not my neck.”

“Charmed life.” Erin lay down beside him. “When I was little, my mother told me the branches of the tree would protect me from fairies.”

“My gran said the same thing,” Rory recalled.

He rolled toward her, his fingers running a lazy trail up and down her arm. Erin embraced the feeling, shuddering a little. She laughed softly, touching his cheek, losing herself in those blue eyes that had always held the promise of love.

A trace of a smile played at the corners of Rory’s mouth. He leaned toward her, kissing the tip of her nose before moving on to each of her cheeks, and then finally her mouth. His lips on hers were tender as a caress, sweet as if this were the first time they’d kissed; it felt that innocent and new. Erin cupped her hand against the back of his head, sliding her fingers back and forth over the soft prickle of his buzzed, blond hair.

“I love when you touch me,” he murmured, his body pressing into hers. “Nothing else in the world compares to it. It feels like home.”

Erin smiled, putting her mouth to his lips. Home. That was the word for Rory. He was her home. She didn’t have to hide with him, or put on a show, or worry that she wasn’t enough for him. He came back for her. Nothing else needed to be said.

She pulled back, smiling at him. “I love you.”

“That’s convenient, seeing as how you agreed to marry me,” Rory replied playfully. He grabbed her and pulled her on top of him, drawing her into an intimate embrace. Erin closed her eyes, reveling in the feeling of the sunlight hitting her face, the breeze trifling over her body.

“May I kiss you again, miss?” Rory asked.

The question sent a steady thrum of warmth through Erin as she nodded yes. This time, Rory’s kiss was more demanding, the feel of his tongue effortlessly sliding between her lips inducing a potent sense of intoxication. She couldn’t lie: Rory had been this good girl’s drug of choice since she was a teenager. She adored the familiar terrain of his skin, the way he gently held himself atop her so she could run her hands up and down his muscled back. Even when they’d been apart, she’d been able to conjure every inch of his body and how it felt atop her, beside her, inside her.

Rory rolled them so he was now the one on top, his gaze beating down on hers, full of months—years—of pent-up desire. Erin wrapped her arms around his neck, the thought entering her head:
You’re hanging on to him for dear life.
Because she was.

Rory had started showering every inch of her face with soft, well-placed kisses. Erin giggled, then closed her eyes, knowing how the tenderness would soon give way to intensity. She loved when his lips brushed her earlobes, when he bestowed quick, tiny nips there. And her neck—it had always been one of her spots. All Rory had to do was deliver a small bite here and there, and fever shot through her. He could do anything he wanted to her now. Anything.

He sat up, the hard press of his legs against hers as he straddled her arousing her even more. He was sloe-eyed as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, one she’d bought him years back—denim, but it was faded and soft now. Her breath caught as he removed the garment. Such a
man
, was all she could think. Muscular and trim, no trace of the football-playing schoolboy she’d fallen for back when she was fifteen and he was all lean and bone. This was the body he’d always
aspired to, and now he had it: the cut biceps, the firm stomach. God, the solidity of him.

She brought her hands up to his chest, opening her palms, fingertips pressing the warm flesh. Rory closed his eyes and smiled, giving a small moan of delight. She could feel him getting hard, and stopped pressing his skin just for a moment to fully appreciate it.

Rory leaned forward, burying his face in her neck. “I love you,” he said, his hot breath making every nerve in her body tingle.

“I love you, too,” she breathed. She took one of his hands, brought it to her breasts. Rory raised his head and began undoing the buttons of her shirt, leaning forward to take a small bite of her shoulder when it was bare. Erin shuddered. “I love when you do that. I’ve always loved it.”

He helped her peel off her shirt, then unfastened her bra, and soon that was gone, too. The excitement, coupled with the chill, had made her nipples hard. And when Rory lowered his mouth to them, his teeth tugging and his tongue flicking, Erin felt herself beginning to disintegrate. Groaning, she rocked her hips against him, shocked by how quick her body was to shudder from this small increase in contact.

“Shall I make love to you?” Rory asked, his breath cool as he blew on her heated skin.

“You shall,” murmured Erin.

She could see from the dark of Rory’s eyes that he was fighting for control, fighting to keep it slow as he undid her jeans and gently tugged them free of her legs, along with her panties. He kissed her low on the belly, pushing the heat pulsing through her to the surface. She wanted him now, and pulling her knees up, she wrapped her legs around his hips, carefully thrusting against him, each slow buck of her body against his exciting him more and more.

“I can’t take this,” Rory groaned. Erin released him from her grip, desire roaring through her head as she watched him stand and hurriedly remove his pants and
briefs. That’s when she felt everything inside her coalesce into one furious, vibrant hunger.

“Rory…”

He settled back atop her, Erin gasping with pleasure as he slid inside her and began moving. It was slow at first, beautifully, torturously slow. He increased the tempo bit by bit, so carefully Erin was in agony. Even so, she would never trade it for the slow build of heat that was curling through her body, the anticipation of how it would all end.

Rory was breathing hard, moaning, his own mounting pleasure evident in every move he made. Erin tightened and flexed her inner muscles around him; that’s when his expression changed to something more driven, a craving. He began moving faster, thrusting himself deeper, whispering secrets and endearments in her ear that only the two of them knew. It wasn’t only the deep passion of the movement that finally pushed her over the edge into rapture; it was knowing this was
it
, finally, she and Rory, the way it was always meant to be. The way it always would be.

*   *   *

They lazed together in the sunshine for a long time, occasionally murmuring and stirring to kiss or to rearrange tangled limbs. Erin didn’t know what time it was, nor did she care. All that mattered was the man holding her.

Rory lifted his head with a smile. “One of these days we’ll do it indoors, I promise.”

Erin laughed delightedly. “I don’t care where we do it. Being with you is all that matters.”

“I’ll remind you of that when we row.”

“We’ll never row again.”

“You know what? I think you’re right.”

“First you twist my arm into letting Sandra work here, and now this.”

Erin ignored her mother’s latest stab at martyrdom as she helped her set the small kitchen table in her parents’ flat. It was Sunday, two weeks after she and Rory had gotten engaged, and he and his gran were coming round for tea. It didn’t take as much strong-arming as expected, thanks to her father. “This is what she wants. We’re civilized people, are we not?”

It had shocked Erin; usually her father retreated pretty quickly when her mother started getting worked up. This was proof he was truly on her side.

It’d been killing Erin to keep quiet about the engagement, but she knew the only way to handle telling her mother was for she and Rory to announce it together. She’d been itching from day one to show her folks the ring: it had been hard to put it away in the bureau and not wear it. Her ring finger actually felt naked without it.

Erin folded the napkins, placing them around the table. “
Thanks for making soda bread,” she said gratefully, hoping it might help to shake her mother out of her mood.

“Well, Rory likes it, doesn’t he?” was her mother’s sour reply.

Erin’s fingers braced the table. “I told you: I’m not having this. Either you keep a civil tongue in your head or I’m off.”

“I don’t know what’s happened to you, but I don’t like it one bit.”

Erin came over to the counter where her mother was slicing bread and hugged her from behind. “What’s happened, Mam, is that I’m not a little girl anymore.”

“Well, I don’t like it very much, I’m telling you.”

Erin kissed her cheek. “I appreciate the honesty.”

“He better be on time,” her mother muttered under her breath.

“Of course he’ll be on time.”

Erin’s father walked into the kitchen, giving her mother a big smacky kiss on the cheek. “How’s it going, my girl?”

“Oh, it’s going,” she replied dryly.

Erin’s dad gave her a wink.

“I see we’ve got a lovely collection of tea cakes,” he commented.

“Mam thought it would be better to have a tea and cake kind of thing, and I agree.”

“No, this is grand,” her father noted. “This way Rory and Fiona can leg it out of here if the dragon lady appears.”

“You better watch yourself,” her mother said. Erin knew she wasn’t joking.

At precisely four p.m. the doorbell rang. Erin hadn’t had the least bit of nerves all day, but now that the moment was actually here, her heart did what it wanted, racing in her chest.

She walked downstairs to open the front door. There was Rory, looking dead handsome as always, and his gran, her hair looking freshly set, the short gray waves frozen into place.

“Hello, love.” Rory’s gran gave her a hug.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Gran,” Erin said.

“I’ll bet you are,” she replied mischievously.

“Hi,” said Rory, discreetly kissing Erin as he closed the door behind them. “What’s the temperature?”

“Cool, but I think we can achieve a thaw if all goes well.”

Rory held out a box of Cadbury chocolate. “Mixed assortment. She likes these, right?”

“Loves them,” Erin concurred. “You’re halfway home already.”

Gran had toddled off to inspect the B and B dining room.

“Very nice,” she commented approvingly “Not too posh.” She turned to Erin. “Looks like your parents did a good job here.”

“Gran,” Rory said in a low voice. “We’re here for tea, not to go snooping around the B and B.”

“The family flat is upstairs,” said Erin. “Shall we?”

Rory paused at the steps. “Gran, are these too steep for you?”

His grandmother looked at him disdainfully. “My old legs work fine.”

“All right. Up you go, then.”

“Don’t look so nervous,” Rory whispered to Erin as they slowly followed his gran up the stairs.

“Do I?”

“You know you do. The color’s draining from your gorgeous face. It’ll go fine.”

“I know,” replied Erin, hoping Rory’s saying so would make it so.

Erin hadn’t had unrealistic expectations. She hadn’t expected her parents, her mother especially, to embrace Rory with open arms. But she hadn’t realized just how chilly the reception would be. Her mother barely thanked Rory for the choccies. Thank God he’d had the foresight to bring his gran along.

Formalities over, the five of them crowded round the table to talk over tea and cakes. Erin’s parents and Rory’s
gran had a brief discussion about how deadly boring Father Bill’s sermons had been of late.