The Boy Toy Page 21

  His heart sank at the thought of her leaving, but he didn’t want to get into this now. Time enough for the big discussion when he got back in a few weeks.

  “Okay, I won’t worry.” He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss on her palm before curling her fingers over it. “Now, are you ready to be wooed properly?”

  A coy smile curved her crimson-glossed lips. “Bring it on, handsome.”

  Thirty-Six

  Samira had never cruised on the Yarra River. Growing up an only child meant she spent a lot of time with her parents on the weekends. On the occasions when the three of them would spend time with her dad’s friends, she’d have her nose buried in a book while her dad waxed lyrical with his fellow academics and her mom hung out with the wives, holding her own with talk of her architectural dreams.

  She’d never realized how much Kushi had given up when she’d decided to be a stay-at-home mom or wondered why she hadn’t returned to her career once Samira had gone to school. It wasn’t something they’d discussed, and bringing it up now might make her mom sad.

  In her teens she’d become self-absorbed, caught up in school dramas and crushes and getting good marks to get into uni for her physical therapy degree. Being time poor, she’d mostly hung out in Dandenong and its surrounds, venturing as far as Glen Waverley with friends. Besides, cruising on the Yarra seemed like a couple thing to do, and even when she’d started dating Avi, he hadn’t been overtly romantic.

  Rory, on the other hand . . . He’d surprised her tonight. After initially freaking out at the baby news, he seemed to be throwing himself into this relationship wholeheartedly, though she couldn’t dismiss a niggle of worry that he was still holding back about something. Then again, she hadn’t told him all her deep, dark secrets. They weren’t that kind of couple. In fact, the realization he wouldn’t be around for most of her pregnancy rammed home that if she decided to return to LA, it wouldn’t be such a big deal.

  Kushi would be devastated, but why couldn’t her mom come and stay with her in LA for as long as she liked? She didn’t have anything tying her to Melbourne. Samira had always wondered why her mom had never come to visit but hadn’t pushed the issue. How could she, when she avoided Melbourne?

  But a baby would change things, and she knew if she asked Kushi to come stay with her in the first few months after the birth, her mom would agree.

  She had a lot to think about.

  “While I love our mutually comfortable silences, you’ve been quiet for an awfully long time.” Rory dropped a kiss on the top of her head, where she snuggled into the crook of his arm, tucked under his shoulder as their gondola drifted along, the gondolier behind them humming an eighties pop song.

  “Just thinking,” she said. “And savoring the most romantic date I’ve ever had.”

  She glanced up at him and batted her eyelashes, and he laughed. “I’m surprised fish-and-chips on the banks of the Yarra followed by a short cruise impresses you so much.”

  “Why?”

  “You live in LA. I imagine you’ve been wooed by pricey dinners on Rodeo Drive or strolls along Santa Monica Pier or hitting the hottest Beverly Hills nightspots.”

  She made a pfft sound. “I don’t need flashy.”

  He stared at her with clear intent in his gaze. “What do you need?”

  Heat shot through her, setting her alight. How did he do that with a single glance?

  “You,” she murmured, reaching up to draw his head toward her. “I need you.”

  His lips grazed hers in an all-too-brief kiss, a kiss of promise, a kiss of what was to come.

  A subtle clearing of the gondolier’s throat had them easing apart with regret.

  “I’ve loved every minute of tonight, but are you ready to head back to my place?”

  His wicked grin was all the answer she needed.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the gondolier. “Can we head back now please?”

  “Sure thing, mate.”

  Samira smiled. She’d never been to Venice, but she imagined the gondoliers on the Grand Canal didn’t call anyone “mate.” Thankfully, the guy had powerful arms, and he dropped them off at their pick-up spot in seven minutes; seven long minutes of being all too aware of Rory’s subtle citrus scent, the press of his thigh against hers, his fingertips tracing lazy circles on the top of her arm. She snuggled into the nook of his arm tighter, craving contact, barely able to contain how badly she wanted him. She could blame her horniness on pregnancy hormones, but she’d been this hot for him since their first night together.

  Sensing her urgency as he helped her from the boat, he leaned down to murmur in her ear, “You’re driving me crazy too, sweetheart.”

  “Let’s go,” she said, taking his hand and all but breaking into a jog.

  He laughed and picked up the pace. Once again, neither of them spoke as they reached her building, and she didn’t mind. Anticipation thrummed between them, making her blood fizz and heating her from the inside out.

  As they stepped into the elevator and the doors slid shut, she muttered, “Wish this stupid thing didn’t have cameras.”

  “What would you do if it didn’t?”

  He pulled her in front of him and slid his arms around her waist, pressing his rigid erection into her, making her mouth go dry.

  “I’d push you up against the wall, unzip you, and go down on you.”

  He made an odd choking sound a second before the elevator stopped and the doors slid open.

  “You’re killing me,” he said, matching her brisk steps as they reached her apartment and she slid the card through the slot with an unsteady hand.

  “Yeah, but what a way to go.”

  As the door closed, she pushed him up against it and slammed her mouth onto his. Their teeth bumped a little, and their noses squished, but she didn’t care, and by his low, appreciative groan, he didn’t either.

  He had this way of using his tongue that made kissing him the most sensual experience in the world, and as he slid his hands under her skirt and tugged her panties down, she never wanted this to end.

  He gripped her ass and hoisted her high, spinning around so he had her pinned to the door. She wriggled, craving closer contact, and he obliged by unzipping. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she gasped as he slid into her with one smooth thrust. Filling her. Completing her.

  “So good,” she whispered against the side of his mouth, and he responded by withdrawing slowly, inch by infinitesimal inch, before plunging back in. Repeating it over and over until she was mindless and clinging to him and clawing at the edges of an orgasm to end all orgasms.

  “Rory . . . oh . . . yeah . . .” Every muscle in her body tensed as he drove into her, hard and fast, so freaking hot.

  His mouth claimed hers again a moment before she climaxed on a loud cry, the pleasure so intense it brought tears to her eyes.

  They’d had some phenomenal sex in their time together, but nothing like this, and as he lowered her slightly and she unwrapped her legs from around his waist, the tears in her eyes threatened to spill out.

  “Fuck, are you crying?”

  He cupped her face between his hands and brushed under her eyes with his thumbs. “Did I 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 his father gaped in openmouthed shock.

  “When . . . I mean who . . . How . . .” Garth swiped a hand over his face and started again. “I didn’t even know you were dating anyone.”

  Rory snorted. “Why would you? We never discuss our personal lives.” He snapped his fingers. “In fact, we don’t discuss much of anything, which leads me to ask, why didn’t you tell me Mom stuttered?”

  Garth’s frown deepened. “Why is this relevant now?”

  “Cut the crap, Dad. When you blew me off last time I was here, I went into the attic looking for my baby stuff, because I’m going to have a kid, and I found my records with Mom’s medical history.”

  Garth fixed him with a steely stare before he pulled up the nearest chair and sat, pointing at the chair opposite.

  “I didn’t blow you off. I asked you to wait for me.”

  Rory barked out a harsh laugh. “Out of everything I just said, that’s what you go with?”

  To Rory’s surprise, his father appeared suitably ashamed. “I’m processing.”

  Rory rolled his eyes. “I’ve got somewhere to be too, Dad. I landed the role as host for Australia’s next biggest reality show. I’m on set in Queensland for the next three weeks, and I’m leaving shortly.”

  Garth’s eyebrows rose. “You’re full of surprises today.”

  Rory hadn’t expected his father to congratulate him, but a small part of him still hoped that one day Garth would actually acknowledge his successes.

  “What’s all this about you becoming a father?”

  “The woman I’m seeing, Samira, is pregnant.”

  A frown furrowed Garth’s brow. “Is this what you want?”

  “Like how you didn’t want me, you mean?”

  Garth’s gaze shifted away, and the old, familiar hurt of being unwanted tightened Rory’s chest.

  “What makes you say that?”

  Rory shook his head. “Where should I start, Dad? The fact you barely tolerated me when I was a kid. How you got this pained look on your face every time I had to talk to you. How your impatience made you finish every sentence I ever uttered. How you never spent time with me.” He held his hands out. “Should I continue?”

  Pain contorted his father’s face before he finally raised his eyes to meet his. “I always wanted you,” he said. “But I harbored a lot of guilt, and it manifested in a way I couldn’t control.”

  Confusion made Rory chuckle when it was the last thing he felt like doing. “You’re a control freak, so I’m pretty damn sure you could get a handle on this so-called guilt.”

  If his dad wanted him to ask what he felt guilty for, he’d be waiting a long time. Rory didn’t want to hear his excuses. He wanted to learn more about his mother.

  Folding his arms, Rory sat back and raised an eyebrow in a silent challenge. Finally, Garth gave a small nod, as if coming to a decision.

  “Your mother had a minor stutter, hardly noticeable at all. But she was very self-conscious, and when my career started to take off, we had to attend a lot of legal functions. She made an effort, but she hated them because of her irrational fear of slipping up and making me look bad.”

  Rory knew that fear of slipping up, and it sucked. He felt for his mom and wished she’d been around so he’d had someone who understood what he’d gone through growing up.

  “I did everything to reassure her that she could never make me look bad, that I loved her wholeheartedly, but the more successful I became, the more she withdrew . . .”

  Sorrow darkened his dad’s eyes. “We grew apart, and I had no idea how to fix it, so I focused on my work. She was busy with you, and we muddled along, until the day I came home after a major criminal case wrapped up to celebrate with her and she’d left. Left a note saying she didn’t want to hold me back any longer, I deserved someone I could proudly parade at functions, that she was failing as a mother because you were copying her speech and stuttering . . .”

  Rory didn’t know what shocked him more, his dad opening up like this or the sheen of tears in h
is eyes.

  “I was devastated initially, but then the anger set in. Even if she didn’t love me, how could she abandon you?” Gruffness deepened Garth’s tone, and he cleared his throat. “I couldn’t forgive her for that. I wanted to. I could’ve found her if I wanted to, but I let my anger consume me, and by the time I’d calmed down enough, it was too late.” Garth blew out a long, slow breath. “She died in a car accident about two months after she left.”

  Pain, swift and unrelenting, stabbed at Rory’s chest. “And you never told me?”

  Garth shrugged, regret evident in the slump of his shoulders. “What would’ve been the point? She’d left, regardless, and you were struggling enough. I didn’t want to add to your burden.”

  “Dad, I’m twenty-seven. Did it ever enter your head to tell me this at some point when I grew up?”

  Garth shrugged again, and it infuriated him.

  “You stopped asking about her after a while, so I figured you didn’t care . . . You were so young when she left, you wouldn’t have remembered her.”

  Damn his father for being right. He could’ve pushed for answers when he was older, but he’d settled for nursing his resentment toward his father.

  “You should’ve told me.”

  He’d never seen his father look so grave as he nodded. “You’re probably right, but it’s yet another mistake in a long list of mistakes I’ve made with you.”

  Rory resisted the urge to glance at the floor. Had hell just frozen over?

  “I’ve been a crap father.” His mouth turned down. “After your mother died, I spent a lot of time second-guessing myself. Had I done enough? Had I pushed her away unwittingly? Should I have seen the signs of her wanting to leave earlier? Should I have gone after her sooner? Would she have come back if I’d gone to her and begged? I neglected you, and when I tried to rectify that, it was too late; you stared at me like I was a stranger.” He shook his head. “And when you spoke, you reminded me so much of her it killed me.”