The Boy Toy - Nicola Marsh Page 0,80
hurt you, baby?”
The urge to cry intensified, and she bit down on her bottom lip and shook her head.
“Sam, tell me what’s going on.”
He looked so concerned, she had to tell him.
“That was the best sex of my life,” she said, and his eyes lit up with typical male pride.
“And you’re crying?”
“From happiness, you dufus.” She whacked him on the chest and sniffled. “Now take me to the shower so we can clean up and do it all over again.”
“I like the way you think.” He grinned and dropped his hands to her shoulders. “You’re amazing. You know that, right?”
“You can keep telling me in the shower.” She sagged against him, suddenly boneless.
“Hey.” He tipped up her chin and brushed a kiss across her lips. “We were so hot for each other I didn’t use a rubber.”
She’d been so mindless with want she’d barely noticed. “It’s not like getting pregnant is an issue, and we already established when the condom broke that we’re clean?”
“Yeah.” The faintest blush stained his cheeks. “I get a yearly physical, and my last was six months ago, and I haven’t slept with anyone but you since.”
Ridiculously, the thought pleased her. He could’ve slept with a hundred women and it shouldn’t bother her, but for now, she was glad they were monogamous and happy.
“As clean as we are,” she said, threading her hand through his hair, “we could get cleaner . . .”
She tugged his head down for another hot, openmouthed kiss that had her wanting him more than ever.
He broke away, his breathing ragged. “Shower. Now.”
His gaze locked with hers. “But just so you know, three weeks away from you is going to be pure torture, babe, so I intend on making up for lost time all night long.”
Samira could hardly wait.
Thirty-Seven
After the night he’d spent with Samira, the last thing Rory felt like doing was visiting his dad. But he wanted to tell him about the baby, and they hadn’t had a chance to talk since he’d discovered the truth about his mom. Getting his head around fatherhood and the incessant fear he might pass on his affliction to his child was hard enough without the million-dollar question pinging around his head.
Why had Garth never said anything about his mom’s stutter?
Then again, he’d hated any kind of verbal interaction with his dad growing up, so after asking Garth about his mom a few times, and the resultant foul moods, he hadn’t broached the subject again.
He’d lived in a mansion his whole life, had the best of everything, but the one thing he craved the most.
Family.
He doubted Garth would want to talk about his mom now, but he’d be damned if he let this go, not with what he’d discovered in the attic.
Bertha, the housekeeper he’d met last time, let him in and asked him to wait in the library. Crazy, being told where to wait in the house he’d grown up in, but he was used to the games his dad liked to play. Meeting in the library was a chastisement for the way he’d left last time without waiting as instructed for Garth to come home.
Garth had always used the library as a punishment for him growing up, thinking he hated books. The joke had been on his dad, because those hours he’d been told to stay in the library and not come out had been bliss, uninterrupted time where he’d be lost in the pages of a book and not having to interact with his stern, poor excuse for a father.
He strolled the perimeter, checking out the spines for anything new, but predictably, Garth Radcliffe didn’t waste time reading current fiction. Rory knew his dad still worked long hours—being a renowned barrister in Melbourne meant he was in demand—but how did his dad spend his downtime? The fact he had no idea saddened him.
He’d sat around on set many times over the last few years, listening to other guys talking about golfing or fishing or going to the footy with their dads on the weekend, and he’d wonder anew what was wrong with him that Garth treated him like an inconvenience to be tolerated rather than a son?
The door opened, and his father strode in. “Rory, what’s this all about? I’ve got a meeting I can’t miss in an hour, so—”
“This won’t take long.”
A disapproving frown slashed Garth’s brow. In all their years, Rory had never interrupted him.
“You’re going to be a grandfather.”
Rory took pleasure in delivering the news with bluntness, as