Page 27 of Sweet Rucking Temptation
And for a moment, in the golden light, surrounded by the farm and the people who’ve made me feel more at home than I ever expected, I justlet myself be. I don’t have to know the answers yet. I’m not ready to figure everything out. But for now, being here with him feels like enough.
"Liv," he whispers, his voice husky. "I've never felt this way before."
I lean into his touch, savoring the roughness of his callused hands against my skin. "Me neither," I breathe.
Our lips meet, tentative at first, a gentle exploration that sends a ripple of warmth through me. His lips are soft yet firm, moving with an intoxicating blend of caution and need. There’s a hint of the apple we shared earlier, its sweetness mingling with something deeper, something purely Elliott.
As the kiss deepens, urgency replaces hesitation. My hands glide over the expanse of his back, fingers trailing across the ridges of muscle that shift and flex beneath his skin. He feels solid, powerful, and yet, his touch is achingly tender.
Elliott pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against mine, his breath coming fast and uneven. His voice is low, almost a whisper. “Are you sure about this?”
My heart pounds at the vulnerability in his question. I nod, my throat tight with emotion, unable to form words. Instead, I pull him closer, wrapping myself around him, feeling the steady warmth of his body seep into mine.
His arms encircle me, one hand tangling in my hair as his lips find mine again, this time with a hunger that makes my pulse race. Every touch, every kiss feels deliberate, as though he’s telling me something words could never express.
When we come together, it’s as if the world narrows to just us. I’m acutely aware of the contrast between us—his raw strength and my softer curves, his sun-kissed ruggedness and my city-worn polish. But in this moment, none of that matters. The differences that once defined us dissolve, leaving only the perfect symmetry of our connection.
There’s a rightness to it, a harmony I didn’t know I was missing until now. With every shared breath and lingering caress, I’m reminded that sometimes, it’s in the unexpected unions where the most beautiful truths are found.
Afterward, we lay entwined on the blanket Elliott thoughtfully packed. The gentle rustling of leaves and distant birdsong create a soothing melody around us. I trace lazy patterns on Elliott's chest, marveling at how content I feel.
"What are you thinking?" Elliott asks, his fingers combing through my hair.
I smile, propping myself up on one elbow to look at him. "I'm thinking how glad I am that I decided to leave Ponsonby for a bit. Who knew the countryside held such... attractions?"
He laughs, the sound rich and warm. "Are you saying you only like me for my body, Ms. Garner?"
"Well, it is a very nice body," I tease, poking his rock-hard abs. "All that barefoot training on river stones clearly paid off."
Elliott captures my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. "And here I thought you'd fallen for my charm and wit."
I pretend to consider this. "Hmm, those are nice too, I suppose. But have you seen your biceps?"
He rolls his eyes, but I can see the pleased smile tugging at his lips. I snuggle closer, breathing in his scent - a mix of sun-warmed skin and something distinctly earthy. It's so different from the aromas I'm used to in my bakery, yet oddly comforting.
"You know," I muse, "I never thought I'd feel so at home out here. It's about as far from Ponsonby as you can get."
Elliott's arm tightens around me. "Does that mean you might consider sticking around for a while?"
The hope in his voice makes my heart skip a beat. I look up at him, seeing the vulnerability beneath his usual confident exterior. In this moment, he's not the "Iceman" of the rugby world, but simply Elliott - the man I've fallen for.
"I think," I say slowly, savoring the words, "that I could definitely be persuaded to extend my stay."
His answering smile is brighter than the midday sun.
10
ELLIOTT
The roar of the crowd swells around me, a tidal wave of sound crashing against the stadium walls. I take a deep breath, tasting the crisp autumn air tinged with sweat and anticipation. This is it—the moment that could define our season.
"Oi, Iceman!" My teammate Sam's voice cuts through the noise. "You ready to freeze 'em out?"
I nod, a ghost of a smile playing on my lips. "Born ready, mate."
I line up for the play, and my mind sharpens to a razor's edge. The familiar weight of the ball in my hands grounds me, a connection to every practice, every drill, every moment that's led to this. The opposition's defense looms before me, a wall of muscle and determination.
I can almost hear my old man's voice: "Remember, son, rugby's not just about brute force. It's a chess match played with your body."
