I heave out a sigh. “While that sounds amazing, I’ll just have to settle for a couple of Midol and something chocolatey from the vending machine later.”
He growls and gathers my hair to expose more of my neck. “Are you sure you can’t stay home and rest?”
My eyelashes flutter as he continues kissing his way across my shoulders. It feels … heavenly. There’s no other word for it. And it shouldn’t—I remember hating the thought of my ex even breathing in my vicinity at certain points in my cycle. But I can’t seem to get enough of Rowan’s touch, and it makes me wonder if this is part of what he tried explaining before, about the purpose of physical intimacy within marriage.
“No, and I really should be getting ready by now,” I say after a while.
“Okay,” he intones and backs away. “I’ll try to leave you alone.”
“Go on, get outta here,” I tell him, gesturing for him to get up first.
He narrows his eyes at me before scooting to the edge of the bed, and this time I’m the one who darts over to deliver a playful smack on his butt when he stands. It’s a mistake, though, because he exacts his revenge by holding me down and tickling me senseless, which leads to me pulling him in for a short make-out session before we’re interrupted by Frankie and Oscar’s barking. And I can’t fault them, since they haven’t been let out since last night.
Rowan assures me he’ll tend to the dogs while I get myself ready for work, and he hands me a cup of coffee when I walkinto the kitchen about fifteen minutes later, after I give my boys the apologetic snuggles they’re owed, of course.
“Since you won’t let me stay home and pamper you, can I at least come back tonight and cook dinner?” he asks, filling me with equal parts panic and excitement. I’m also having a hard time getting over the way he looks in those scrubs he’s started wearing.
“Don’t you have to work in Baton Rouge tomorrow?”
He shrugs. “I’ll get up early.”
“Rowan,” I begin on a sigh. “I don’t know. This doesn’t seem fair.”
“What’s unfair is making me beg you to stay when you know I’m in love with you and I can’t stand being away,” he replies, hooking a finger through one of my belt loops and tugging me closer. I swallow hard as I try to form a reply, but he pulls me in for a kiss before I can come up with a reasonable objection.
He rests his forehead against mine and sighs. “I’m smothering you, aren’t I? I know it seems immature, but I can’t help myself. Just don’t be afraid to tell me when you need your space.”
I cringe. “You’re not smothering me. But I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to stay over anymore.”
“Oh,” he breathes, and I can tell he’s trying to hide his disappointment.
“It’s not that I didn’t enjoy having you in my bed,” I reassure him, and another wave of consolation fills me and gives me the courage to continue. “But I’m still new to this chastity thing. I want to respect your boundaries, but we can’t keep pushing the limits, either. And I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before one thing leads to another.”
And if I have my say, another.
Okay, so the real Claire’s still in there.
Rowan groans. “I know you’re supposed to be warning me off right now, but all this talk of responsibility and chastity is just making me want you all the more. Your green flags are such a turn on.”
“Get out of here, you dork,” I say, trying not to simper at him.
He flashes me another grin before he leans in for one more quickkiss. “You know, there is a simple fix to all this,” he mumbles before he grabs his keys and phone off the counter.
“Oh, is that the easy way out, then?” I repeat incredulously.
“I’d make marriage easy for you, Claire Bear. I promise,” he says with a wink. And even though I roll my eyes and scoff at him, I can’t help thinking it’s the truth.
It’s also a good thing I let himcher-cherme while I could, since my cramps are already flaring up by the time I get to homeroom. I manage to survive the first few hours of the day without bleeding through my clothes again, but I have to risk a copy run during my planning hour.
The machine is vacant when I get there, to my relief, and I greet Loren and the other teacher having lunch at the table before I get started.
“How come I never see you in the teachers’ lounge?” Loren asks, and I turn to realize we’re alone now.
“I’m usually too busy to hang out in here,” I reply with a shrug, only offering her half of the story. If I were being honest, I’d tell her how I’ve always been afraid of being the odd girl out, so I either avoid situations where I might face rejection, like the gossip table in the teachers’ lounge, or purposefully take myself out of contention with my off-putting humor.
But I’m certainly not going to admit all that to someone who girly girls as well as Loren does, who’s pretty and dainty, yet still witty enough to snag a husband like Blake Bourgeois and tough enough to survive birthing two babies at a time, not to mention her history with Rowan.
How wouldsheunderstand?
