His skin is so soft, and every time I inhale, my lungs fill with his cologne and soap—the combination being the most masculine and sexy thing I’ve ever smelled.
“Shit, Nat.” He groans and my back is against a wall again. “You look so fucking sexy in this.”
I chuckle against his lips as he kicks off his pristine white sneakers. Always white fucking sneakers.I love his sneakers.
“Take it off, Rowan.” His fingers undo the top few hooks of my corset. “Upstairs.”
With a deep rumble from the back of his throat, he peels me off the wall and begins the journey upstairs. Every stepcomes with a kiss; every step brings me closer to Rowan’s body moving with mine—something I never thought would ever happen between us. Not like this.
I want him. Of all the images I’d fallen asleep with in my mind—about what it would be like to kiss Rowan—this is better. Better than a dream. He’s giving me everything he has, and I’m matching his fervor, allowing him to take just as much as he gives.
Letting him press me up against his front door doesn’t seem like a mistake after all. I’ve made so many mistakes in my life—some that haunt me every night, no matter how much time has passed. But the real mistake was thinkingthiswas a mistake.
Rowan is Rowan, and I am me. After everything this life has given me, aside from my friends, Rowan might be the rarest of good things I’ll ever have—just another thought that haunts me when I feel at my lowest, when I feel unworthy and unloved and better off dead.
Because Rowan is Rowan, but I am me.
I kiss him everywhere my lips can reach with his shirt still on. Then I’m tossed onto the bed with a bounce that makes me giggle. The amusement is gone when I sit up on my elbows and see him standing between my spread legs.
His ocean eyes are stormy and tumultuous. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”
“Rowan.”
His arms reach behind his head and his shirt begins to rise, exposing the muscles beneath his tanned skin and the trail of hair beneath his navel. The deep indent at his hips forming aVfeels all too ironic. It’s pointing, telling me exactly how this is going to end. With Rowan inside of me.
My core clenches at the image I conjure in my head of him thrusting in and out of me.
The white shirt gets tossed aside, giving me the privilege of seeing the god of a man beneath the clothes. His body, with his hair all tousled and disheveled from my fingers is a sight to behold. It should be illegal for him to wear clothes.
“So are you,” I confess on a breath. The moonlight pours from the windows, making him glow.
A smirk stretches on his perfect lips as he pops the button and lowers the zipper of his pants before he crawls over me. I cradle his body between my legs.
“Rowan,” I breathe, his name the only word in my brain. “Rowan.”
“Fuck, Natalia,” he barely growls. “I want you.”
I whimper. “I want you too.”
“You do?” Rowan breathes.
I nod. “Fuck me, Rowan.”
“I—”
I press my hand to his chest, pushing him up until he’s on his knees. “No strings,” I whisper. “Just fuck me.”
If Rowan Asher is going to ruin me, he may as well do it thoroughly.
There’s a flash of uncertainty in his expression that makes him hesitate, his eyes taking mine hostage. The moment is short, but it feels like an eternity has passed as I stare into the depths of blue.
This might be an extremely perilous situation, but I don’t know for whom anymore. It doesn’t matter when it’s him and me and the moon and nothing else. No one else.
No one else, Natalia.
Damn it.
“Rowan,” I breathe.
