He hums and pulls me in for a kiss instead of giving me a verbal answer, and it isn’t long before we find ourselves in the same position as before.
“I meant what I said, Claire,” he tells me between kisses. “You’re all I ever think about, all I want. I’m so in love with you, and I need you to know that before anything else happens.”
I clutch at his back in response, digging my nails into his muscles when he deepens the kiss again. This time I reach down to unbutton his pants, only to find them already undone. He backsaway long enough to slide them down his legs, and I scramble to sit up and peel off my shirt.
His eyes devour me, and I swear I can feel the heat of his desire radiating off him. I lick my lips and take his hand in mine, bringing it up to flatten his palm against my chest.
“You’re the only man who’s ever made my heart race like this, you know,” I admit, and his shoulders rise and fall. “I can’t say I’ve been saving myself for you, and I can’t even make any promises about what happens after tonight. But I already know it’s going to be so different with you. You make me feel things I’ve never felt before, and we’ve barely even gotten started.”
He groans and cradles my jaw as he moves in to kiss me, guiding me to lie back so he can hover over me again. But he stops abruptly, letting out a frustrated grunt when his scapular cord catches on my bra.
I stifle a giggle when he shifts his position to untangle us, but he doesn’t laugh. Instead, he rolls onto his side and gazes at me with that tortured look on his face.
I sigh, unable to hide my disappointment. “I know. It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice cracking.
“Don’t be. I told you, this is a part of what makes you …you. Think you can forgive me for trying to molest you again?” I ask with a hopeful smile.
“There’s nothing to forgive. I’d still eat a jar of peanut butter just to have your hands on me,” he mumbles, his somber tone contradicting his favorite joke.
“So you’re willing to risk your life for a night with me, just not your soul,” I retort cheekily, trying to lighten the mood, but his frown deepens.
“It’s not just my own soul I’m trying to protect,” he replies, his expression finally softening, and I have to blink away the tears that immediately form again.
“Don’t bother. I’m already a lost cause,” I say quietly.
He heaves out a frustrated sigh. “There’s no such thing. And evenif there was, I’d argue that you’re a better person than most, even on your worst days.”
“Have you already forgotten the part when I lied to you and invited a strange man into my house? We both know he was only here for one thing, and it wasn’t a spirited theological debate,” I spit out, annoyed at myself for forgetting that I’m supposed to be pushing Rowan away. “So stop acting like all the reasons you judged me in the beginning don’t exist anymore. We both know this could never work.”
“What are you talking about?” he asks incredulously.
“You can’t tell me it doesn’t matter that I’m divorced, not when I know your church wouldn’t even allow us to be together.”
He props himself up on his elbow. “Who told you that?”
“You … and your family,” I admit, and he glares at me. “Even if I were to become Catholic for you, we can’t get married in your church. I already had my suspicions, but I overheard your sisters talking about it at Easter.”
He groans. “Contrary to what she may believe, Magnolia isn’t always right.”
“She’s right this time, though, isn’t she?”
“I love all of my siblings,” he begins, as if he needs the reminder. “But none of them speak for me, not even Daisy, and they’re certainly not ordained to represent the entire Holy Roman Catholic Church.” He pauses to scrunch up his nose before adding, “Except maybe Rosemary. But that’s beside the point, because?—”
“Enough, Rowan,” I blurt out, cutting him off. “Look, I can believe you’d get over the part about me already being ruined. But I can’t understand why you keep stringing me along when you know damned well we can’t actually be together! Why do you insist on torturing us both if you’re just going to fall back on the rules again?”
My eyes sting and my face heats with embarrassment after my voice breaks off and makes that last part sound like a plea for mercy. But that’s exactly what it is.
He gulps as he stares me down. “Is this why you won’t let me love you, because you think it’s not allowed?”
“It’s not the only reason,” I pause to sniffle, “but it’s a pretty good one.”
He bites his lip, and I want to knock the smile he’s trying to hide off his face.
“For someone so good at so many things, you’ve done a very poor job of eavesdropping,” he says in a patronizing tone.
“What the hell is your problem?” I demand, reaching out and shoving him in the chest. But he catches my hand and holds on to it.
