Page 95 of Beyond the Stroke

We walk up the steps to the side porch. While I’m waiting for Rory to unlock the door, I study him. His t-shirt is stretched against his strong, broad back, his shorts hugging his tapered waist at the same time straining against his sculpted ass. Wind-blown and tousled, his thick, wavy hair has me yearning to run my hands through it. And then there’s the way his long, steady fingers grip the key before shoving it into the keyhole with such force and precision that I nearly gasp with longing.

The image of Rory’s hard, muscular body hovering over me, pressing me into the mattress and whispering in my ear.That’s it, Wildflower. Let me fill you up.

“What did you tell Whitney about us?” I stutter, trying to redirect my thoughts.

He opens the door and flips on the hallway light before motioning for me to enter. Once I’m inside, he closes the door behind us and locks it.

Rory slips out of his sandals while I move to toe-off my tennis shoes.

A teasing smile plays at his lips. “That you fell madly in love with me and begged me to marry you.”

I gasp in horror, then threaten him with one of my shoes. “You take that back or I’ll call Daphne right now and tell her everything.”

Rory lets out a small chuckle, shaking his head. His hand brushes over the top of his thick, sandy-blond hair. I bite my lip watching his fingers tease through the strands, wishing they were mine.

“I told her that our marriage was quick, but necessary.”

“Necessary, how?” I need to know what information Rory has divulged so I’m not caught off guard.

“I didn’t give her details, only that it made sense for both of us.”

“Hmm.” I drop the shoe to its match on the floor and walk farther into the house.

Edgar is there in the living room curled up on the rug as if he’s been doing it for years. I scoop him up and carry him down the hallway with Rory following behind me.

Inside Rory’s bedroom, he pulls out his phone.

“Vivi sent me this for our approval.” Rory hands me the phone and I see a picture of us at the courthouse. “We’re spinning it as a one-month anniversary post.”

I scroll to the next photo. It’s one of us kissing after the judge had pronounced us husband and wife. I’ve thought about our kiss countless times today, but recalling how it felt and seeing how we looked are two very different things. This photo offers me a glimpse into just how much I liked kissing Rory. And how easy it will be to convince anyone who sees it that we are really together.

The visual of us alone is enough to spur tiny rivulets of pleasure to build in my belly.

Flooded with the memory of kissing Rory and the visual evidence of how hot it really had been, my blood surges, causing a flush to creep up my neck. My brain desperately struggles to keep the awareness of it off my face.

“You were really into our kiss today, huh?”

I tilt my head. “Excuse me?”

“For the photos,” he says, smirking now. “Hands gripping my jacket. I think you even sighed into my mouth a little.”

I can’t hold it back any longer. Heat rushes to my face. Embarrassment or annoyance, it doesn’t really matter at this point. “That wasyousighing.”

“Oh, I definitely didn’t sigh. But you?” He gives me a knowing grin. “You were enjoying yourself.”

“I was selling it,” I bite out.

“Uh-huh. Whatever helps you sleep tonight.”

My face pinches into a scowl, but there’s no real venom in it. If anything, I hate how much I like this, how easy it is to fall into a playful back and forth with him.

“You need anything?” he asks, quieter now.

I hesitate, feeling the weight of the moment. He’s being genuine, not teasing, not cocky, justhim. And for some reason that feels more dangerous than anything else.

We got married today so I can use his insurance. He moved me into his house. What more could I possibly need?

He pulls his t-shirt off and yanks back the covers. His athletic shorts hang low on his waist and when he leans over to adjust his pillow, I swear I can see the outline of his cock against the soft material.

---