Chapter Thirty-Nine
Amelia
I stood under the spray, letting the hot water work its magic on me. It seemed like every muscle in my body was sore. Thank God Rory had called an early end to the day; I couldn’t have gone much farther.
There was a knock at the door. Shit, I hadn’t even washed myself or my hair yet. “Be out in a few,” I called, reaching for the shampoo. The bathroom door opened. “Sorry, Rory, I know I’m taking forever. I’ll be quick now.”
I didn’t hear him leave, so I put down the shampoo and peered around the curtain. And froze.
He stood on the tile floor, wearing only his boxer briefs.
Wordlessly, slowly, deliberately, I drew back the curtain, surprising myself a little with my boldness.
His eyes smoldered as they raked over my naked body from head to toe, leaving me hot and aching for him.
“I think you’re a bit overdressed,” I said.
His lips curving in a slow smile, he hooked his thumbs in his waistband and drew his boxers down and off. And then it was my turn to ogle him as he stood before me—from the top of his lovely hair, down his lean, strong body to his feet, and then slowly back up. It was thrilling to see how much he wanted me; the evidence was right there before me, proud and unmistakable.
His eyes flared, and I realized I was unconsciously licking my lips. He stepped into the tub and backed me into the wall, his hands cupping my face, his lips taking mine in a kiss so hot, so hungry, it staggered me.
Now he was the bold one.
His hands dropped to caress my breasts, and then he tore his mouth from mine to follow the path his hands had taken. I held the back of his head, his wet curls twining around my fingers as he set me on fire with his touch.
His fingers skipped down my ribs to my waist, and then he lifted me off my feet. My legs instinctively wrapped around his hips as he pressed me into the wall, the tiles cool against my heated skin, his body throbbing against my center. He lifted his head to kiss me again, but this time slowly, as if he had all the time in the world.
But I didn’t.
I skimmed my hands down his body, smiling as he sucked in a breath. “You started it,” I said as I stroked him.
“So I did,” he replied, and then it was his turn to smile and my turn to gasp as his fingers found me. He caressed me until I was writhing against the wall.
“Rory, please,” I hissed. “I need you.”
“Not yet.” His fingers continued to torment me until I came apart, my hands clutching helplessly at his shoulders.
I felt his fingers leave me, and I watched as he reached around the curtain for a condom he’d left on the edge of the sink. I took it from his hand and put it on him, slowly, savoring the feel of him pulsing in my hands, smiling at the knowledge that I was driving him as crazy as he’d driven me.
And then he was inside me, both of us gasping as our bodies slid together until we were fully joined. I tightened my legs around his waist, ignoring the ache in my knee. He cradled the back of my head with one hand while the other supported my back.
“Open your eyes, Amelia,” he said. I met his gaze—so green, so intense, I couldn’t look away. And I didn’t want to. I drew him deeper, my fingers trailing up and down his spine as he moved within me, his slow, languid pace belying his earlier urgency.
Time seemed to stand still as he made love to me, the water cascading over us. I arched against him, my body desperate for more. “Rory, please,” I gasped. I was so close…
Finally, he gave in and began to move faster. I cupped his face, keeping my eyes locked to his, crying out his name as I tumbled over the edge. He rocked against me once more, then buried his face in my shoulder as he followed me into oblivion.
I ran my fingers through his wet hair, unable to do much else. My mind was spinning. “Rory, that was…” I didn’t even know what to say.
He raised his head and looked at me, his eyes back to their usual gray-green. “Amazing? Fantastic? Brilliant?”
There was a vulnerability in his eyes that belied his light tone. And while it had been amazing, fantastic, and brilliant, those weren’t the words that had come to mind. Nor were they the words he wanted to hear.
I smoothed his hair back from his face and stared into those luminous eyes. “Transcendent. The most intense experience I’ve ever had.”
His beautiful smile told me that I’d said the right thing. “It’s been a hell of an intense day,” he said.
“And after all that, I haven’t actually gotten clean yet.”
“Well, we’d better remedy that before the water runs cold.” He pulled back, holding onto me as my legs fell away from his hips and waiting until I was steady on my feet. While he cleaned up, I reached for the shampoo.
“Let me,” he murmured, taking the bottle from me. He squeezed some onto his hand, and I turned so he could reach. He massaged the shampoo into my scalp, making my sated body come alive once more. He turned me around so that I was under the spray, and I reached for him, but he stepped back, shaking his head. “None of that, or we’ll never get out of here.”
“I can think of far worse things.”
“The café closes at five. It was after three thirty when I came in here,” he said. “I mean, if you want another freeze-dried dinner…?”
“Okay, fair point,” I said as he gently worked conditioner through my long hair. I was starving, and definitely didn’t want to miss our chance at real food.
He rinsed my hair, and then I reached for the shampoo. “Your turn.”
He was considerably taller than me, so I had him face me and lower his head so I could reach him. This unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on your point of view—put his face right at my chest. He pressed his lips to my wet skin. “None of that, or we’ll never get out of here,” I teased. He was clearly going to ignore me, but the moment my lathered hands sank into his thick hair, he just closed his eyes and practically purred with bliss.
While he rinsed his hair, I quickly soaped up with the body wash and then traded places with him so I could wash off and he could soap up. I put on a sleeveless top and jeans and did a quick blow-dry of my hair while he got dressed.
I checked my phone. No messages. “I’ll call Carrie’s mom after we eat.”
“Are you sure? We have some time.”
“Yeah. I want to actually sit and enjoy my food.”
We headed to the small, blue-shingled café, where we both ordered big bowls of thick vegetable soup with homemade crusty bread. The simple meal was delicious, but Rory was quiet, pensive, his eyes gray-green and turbulent.
Which, given the way he’d stalked into the shower and taken me against the wall less than an hour earlier, seemed strange.
“Are you all right?” I finally asked.
He looked up from his soup and smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. I guess I’m just tired. It’s been a…long day.”
I wished I could read his mind at that moment. Was he thinking about Connor? Did he regret what he and I had done—that we’d gotten together? Was it something else entirely? Or was he really just tired?
I couldn’t stand the silence. “Did you speak to Tommy before? Did they finish?”
I wondered how the rest of the group fared. I’d just gotten to know Molly and Megan and Pat and Linda when we’d parted ways, and it sucked that we couldn’t have finished as a group.
This time, his grin was real, crinkling his eyes at the corners and making my heart leap. “Oh, aye. They finished the trek, and he’s bumming around with Gav in Sligachan. He said to tell you hi.”
“Aww, that’s sweet,” I said, dunking a piece of bread in my soup.
“Sweet? Ha. Gav tried to bet Tommy that you and I would hook up.”
“Those two need a hobby. And what do you mean, ‘tried to’?”
“Tommy refused to bet against it.”
Which, given what he’d said to both of us a few days—a lifetime—ago, wasn’t surprising. “I feel like Tommy’s been pretty invested in the two of us getting together.”
He took a sip of his beer. “He likes you. Has from the very beginning—even before I did.”
I licked my lips. “And now?”
“Now what?” he asked, dipping his spoon into his soup.
“Do you like me?” It sounded very junior high school, and a stupid question given what we’d been doing a short while ago, but suddenly I had to know.
His spoon froze midway to his mouth. He set it back in the bowl and took my hand. “Aye, I like you,” he said, his gaze steady on mine. “So much, I don’t know how I’m going to say goodbye to you in two days,” he added, his voice so low I could barely hear him.
“Me, either,” I whispered back.
He brought my hand to his lips and kissed my fingers, then turned it so that my palm lay against his cheek. I ran my thumb over his bristly jaw and stared into his eyes.
“You never did tell me what had you staring at me like you wanted to devour me when I was going through your pack earlier,” he said suddenly.
I felt my face grow hot. “Oh, that.”
“Aye, that. I think you’d better tell me.”
“You were saying you’d read Outlander. And I got this image in my head of you lying in your tent, your head propped on your pack, the sleeping bag bunched around your bare waist. You were holding the book in one hand while your other rested on your belly.”
His brow crinkled. “I don’t understand why imagining me reading got you all hot and bothered.”
I rolled my eyes. “You reading Outlander got me all hot and bothered. I’d been ready to crawl into your sleeping bag with you when I saw that you’d fallen asleep reading Fellowship. Outlander is like a million times sexier than Fellowship.”
A shadow fell over the table. “Sorry to interrupt, but did you need anything else before we close in a few minutes?” asked the owner, a plump, pretty woman in her fifties.
“Should we get some sandwiches for later?” asked Rory. “We can take them to the beach and watch the sunset.”
“Oh, that’s a lovely idea!” said the woman. “It should be a nice one this evening, now that the sky over Bla Bheinn has cleared.”
“That sounds great,” I said, and we gave her our order.
A few minutes later, she returned, a big paper bag in her hands. “One tuna mayo on multigrain, one turkey and avocado on ciabatta. I threw in a few apples and two bags of crisps as well. You can have a proper picnic on the beach overlooking Loch Slapin.”
She walked away to ring us up. “Or we can just go back to the room, and I can take off all my clothes and read Outlander while you stare at me if you’d prefer,” he said in a low voice.
“If you read it aloud and let me video it, you have a deal. It would go viral.”
“Done.”
I grinned. Rory had a great sense of humor, once he let it show.
We grabbed coffees to go and headed back to the B&B. Rory went up to the room, while I wandered to a nearby bench and called Helen.
“Hey, how is she today?” I asked when Helen picked up.
“No change, honey,” she replied, sounding utterly exhausted. “Her injuries continue to heal, but she’s still in the coma. How are you? Please, tell me something good. How’s the trek going? You have to be almost done by now, right?”
“Yeah, we’re almost to the end. We should finish in two days.” Though I didn’t consider that to be a good thing. I wanted to tell her about Rory, but that story couldn’t have a happy ending. In a few short days, we’d go our separate ways. “It’s been an amazing experience, Helen.” At least that part was true. “The scenery here is just breathtaking. The weather’s been up and down—we’ve had some pretty serious rain and wind, which has made for a few interesting moments—but I wouldn’t trade any of it.”
As I said the words, I realized how true they were. I wouldn’t trade one minute of this experience—even the knee injury. Especially the knee injury, because if I hadn’t gotten hurt, I never would have had this time with Rory, would never have hooked up with him.
“That’s wonderful, sweetie. I know you don’t have long—let me put the phone to Carrie’s ear for a second.”
“Okay, thanks.”
A moment later I heard her muffled voice say, “Okay, you’re on.”
“Hey Ree,” I said, speaking quietly so Helen wouldn’t hear. “I was just telling your mom that we’re almost done with the trek. I can fill you in on all that when I get home, but I wanted to tell you that I, um, met a guy. His name is Rory, and he’s actually one of the guides for the trek, and we kinda hooked up.”
Carrie loved romance—other people’s almost more so than hers—and she’d been disappointed over the years by my lackluster boyfriends, even more so than I was. Maybe telling her about Rory would get her to wake up.
“He’s so serious, and I didn’t like him much at the beginning, but he’s had a shitty life, with so much heartbreak. Other guys would have let that turn them into angry, bitter people, or let it destroy them completely, but he hasn’t. He’s kind, and strong, and brave, and so beautiful, with these amazing eyes that change color depending on his mood.”
Usually calm gray-green like the sea; more intensely so when he’s concerned or troubled. Silver when he’s angry. Bright green when he looks at me like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, when he touches me like he’ll die without the feel of my skin under his fingertips, when he kisses me like only I can provide the air he needs to breathe.
“And I…I think I love him. No—I know I love him. I know what you’re thinking—how can I love him when I’ve only known him for a few days? But it’s been a pretty intense few days, and we’ve spent every minute together, and I just know. I wish I knew how he felt. I mean, I’m pretty sure he cares about me—you can’t fake that look he had in his eyes when we were—”
Making love in the shower and he stared at me like he could see my soul.
I paced back and forth, too agitated to sit still. “Anyway, I suggested that we hook up for the duration of the trek. No promises, no plans for after. We’d both go back to our lives. He tried to tell me it wasn’t a good idea, but I wanted him so much, and I knew he wanted me, and life can change in a second, and I didn’t want to come home and regret that I missed out on the chance to be with him, even if it was just for a few days.
“But a short fling isn’t me. I knew that. And I didn’t care. I thought it would be enough. But now…” My eyes filled with tears. “What am I going to do, Carrie? We have just two days left, and then the trek is over. And it isn’t enough. I wish you could tell me what to do. When I say goodbye to him…” I broke off, unable to finish my sentence.
My heart will shatter into a thousand pieces.
“Please wake up, and tell me what to do,” I whispered. I closed my eyes, listening for something—anything—that would indicate she’d heard me, that she was waking up.
But the only sound was the steady beeping of the monitors.