My chin quivers again as I twist my fingers into his shirt, clinging to him and forcing our bodies back together. He closes his eyes and inhales sharply when I press my lips to his throat.
“Please, Rowan,” I coax, kissing my way up his neck.
“Don’t … tempt me,” he barely gets out.
“But I need you to finish what we started the night we met,” I mumble against his skin before nipping just below his ear. Then I reposition myself beneath him, arching my back and rolling my hips into his as I relish in his warmth.
He hisses and plants a knee between my thighs to stop me from doing it again. “It’s not that I don’t want to, believe me. But you know I can’t,” he repeats.
“Would it really be so bad if we gave in, just this once?” I ask, my desperation clear in my voice.
“Yes,” he answers automatically, but I watch his throat muscles contract as he grapples with his conscience. “I mean, no, not now. It would be amazing now.” He falters for a second and shifts his position over me again, crushing his hard body into mine. I seize the opportunity to hitch my leg over his hip and hold him there.
“But later … we’d both feel sad … and—and empty,” he continues rambling as he presses himself into me in a way that both satisfies and intensifies that need at the same time.
I shake my head and clutch him tighter. “That’s why I need you to fill me up,” I reply in my most sultry tone and lean up to scrape my teeth over his bottom lip, earning a half-whimper, half-growl from him.
“I’ve never wanted anything more,” he insists. “But I’m not sure I can give myself away until I don’t have to worry about holding anything back.”
“Then stop holding back,” I tell him before I can think better of it.
He pants as he braces himself over me, his eyes searching mine. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I nearly cry out, nodding vehemently.
And with that, he reaches to pull his shirt up over his head, and I scramble to help him out of it. He leans down to kiss me again as one of his hands drifts up my side, dragging the fabric and exposing me as he goes. The moment he presses his warm skin to mine, I realize he’snot playing around anymore. This feels different than that first night. Even though he still has his reservations, there’s a new sense of urgency. And knowing him makes it seem all the more reckless this time around.
Rowan’s fingers work frantically as he unbuttons my jeans and slides them down my hips, his gaze catching on my bare legs, and I reach out to offer my assistance. But he gently averts my hands and sits back on his heels.
“I’m sorry,” he says again, clearing the emotion from his throat. “I don’t want to stop, but I have to make sure you understand what this means to me—whatyoumean to me.”
I still myself in front of him when I finally hear the agony in his voice.
What the hell am I doing? Guilting him into having sex with me? Using him to make myself feel better? Taking away something so important and precious to him, all in the name of avoiding real intimacy?
This isn’t fair to either of us. I shouldn’t have to resort to seducing a man or coercing him to sleep with me, and regardless of our true feelings for one another, what I’m doing right now isn’t coming from a place of love or affection. This is lust and pride and loneliness … and probably a strong dose of hormones.
“Because you’re afraid you might say something you don’t mean in the heat of the moment?” I ask carefully.
“I’m more afraid of saying something Idomean,” he admits with a rueful smile. “In fact, I want to say it, especially since I promised you the truth. But if you can’t handle that, then ...”
My chest feels tight when I realize he’s looking for a way out. He may be trying to soften the blow, knowing I wouldn’t take his rejection very well, but he still can’t bring himself to go through with it. And as much as I’d like to attribute the cold feet to his strict moral code and assume he’s trying to avoid using me to satisfy his physical urges, with the way he keeps implying his feelings for me run even deeper than I thought, I suspect he’s afraidI’mthe one usinghim.
Which is exactly what I’m doing by not respecting his boundariesand taking advantage of his weakness for me. It’s also why walking away from me in the beginning was the smartest thing he’s ever done.
“No,” I choke out. “You’re right. We shouldn’t … not like this, anyway.”
He looks equally disappointed and relieved. “I’m sorry I’ve ruined the moment again,” he says softly.
“Don’t apologize. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me,” I reply, frowning and reaching up to stroke his cheek. “There’s nothing wrong with having standards or needing a different level of trust. And if I were a better friend, I wouldn’t make you second guess yourself.”
He sighs and holds my hand in place. “That’s the thing—I do trust you, more than anyone, and Iwantto give you all of me. I want to make you feel good, to see that look on your face and know I put it there. I want to finish what we started, to follow through with my promise to make love to you over and over again, then lie awake and listen to you talk until the sun comes up.”
I inhale sharply when his declaration sends a wave of heat through me, but he continues.
“But we’re not meant to have that if you’re only ever going to see me as a friend.”
I tug my arm back. “Because you’re supposed to be saving that stuff for the person you marry.”
