His thumb brushes my cheekbone, so tender it makes me hurt. “Maybe I’m selfish,” he murmurs, voice low. “But I’m glad the bond is sealed. I don’t ever want to let you go.”
The words should soothe me, but they don’t. Not completely. My body stiffens, just a little. His brow furrows, his grip tightening fractionally.
“But… before, you wanted to break it,” I say.
His jaw tightens. “I thought you couldn’t possibly want this.” His voice is careful, measured. “I thought you deserved better. That you’d regret me.” And then I can feel it—not my fear and doubt, but his.
“Rowan,” I whisper, threading my fingers into his curls. “No. God, no.” My voice cracks. “I’ve wanted you since the first day I walked into your class. Since you called on me and actually listened when I answered. Since you told me my research was brilliant and meant it.” I shoot him a small smile. “Since I couldn’t stop staring at your ass in those tight black pants. Since I became obsessed with your voice, your smile, your hands…everything.”
His breath saws out of him unevenly. His hands frame my face, thumbs stroking over my cheeks. “Norah, sweetheart.”
“I love you,” I blurt out, the words spilling out of me before I can stop them. “I’ve loved you for so long, and I was too scared to say it, and then the bond happened and I thought—” My voice breaks. “I thought you didn’t feel the same.”
His expression softens, his eyes all warm and melty, little lines fanning out around them. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice tight with emotion. “I love you, Norah. I think I have for a long time.”
The bond shines between us, and I can feel the truth of his words. My breath stutters in my chest, my heart swelling until I think it might burst.
Before I can say anything, he’s kissing me, hungry and desperate, and I melt into him. His hands slide down my body, gripping my hips, as he rolls us onto our sides, his cock still inside me, my legs around his waist. The bond pulses,demanding more, and I arch into him with a whimper, fresh arousal flooding me. His cock is already hardening inside me again, and we start to rock into each other as we kiss and kiss and kiss.
We don’t come up for air until dawn streaks across the sky.
Ten
Norah
The forest floor is soft beneath my boots, and the mist-shrouded trees sway gently above me in the breeze. Rowan’s hand grazes mine as we walk towards the dig site, and I slip my fingers through his. He gives them a warm squeeze, making the bond hum quietly between us. I look down at where our hands are joined, and it feels surreal that just a week ago, I thought Rowan would only ever be a crush to me. Now, he’s mine, with a matching magical bond mark and everything.
Life comes at you fast, as they say.
As we arrive at the dig site, a couple of students glance up from their work, eyes zeroing in on our joined hands. They whisper to each other, but neither Rowan nor I pull our hands away. A few others stare at us. The staring makes me blush a little, but it doesn’t seem to faze Rowan in the slightest.
Neither of us wanted to hide what we are to each other. I don’t think we could’ve if we’d tried, honestly. The bond makes it difficult to go long periods without being near each other, and the closer we are, the closer we want to be. Touching, holdinghands, me sitting in his lap. We’re doing our best to keep things professional on the dig site, but…well, it’s been a challenging few days.
This morning, he woke me up with his mouth between my thighs, and I bit my lip to the point of pain trying to stay quiet.
Not that I’m complaining.
The only thing I regret is that Rowan won’t be my thesis supervisor any longer. The department rules are clear on that. I’ll have to transition to conducting my research under a different professor, but Rowan has promised that he’ll help smooth the transition, and although I’ll miss working directly with him, it’s worth it a thousand times over if it means we’re allowed to be together.
His thumb traces over the back of my hand and warmth flickers through me.
“We should have a proper wedding,” he says suddenly, our boots scuffing underfoot as we walk.
My eyebrows inch up. “You mean something that isn’t ancient words chanted in a forest at dawn?”
He grins, and I go all melty. “Yes. I was thinking something a bit more modern, but no less romantic.”
I bump my shoulder into his. “Sounds perfect to me, Dr. Vale.”
“I agree, Mrs. Vale.”
“Oh, I think I’m going to hyphenate,” I say, and his smile widens.
“Even better. Norah Marlowe-Vale. Sounds very academic. Quite posh.”
“Glad you like it.”
We spend several hours working at the dig site, and then head to Maeve’s cottage to let her know that we don’t need to break the bond after all. But when we get there, we’re greeted by a tall man with thinning white hair and half-moon glasses.
