“When two souls touch, they do not leave unchanged.
Even if the flesh forgets, the spirit remembers.”
- The Old Book
Rowan stood with his hands in his pockets, staring at me like I was going to disappear at any moment. Like he needed to memorize my image.
I pulled the covers off my body, exposing my short nightgown that cinched mid-thigh. I pivoted onto my side and rested my head in my hand, enjoying his lazy perusal of my body. His eyes stopped twice on their journey south. Once at the peak of my breasts, and the second time at the area between my thighs.
His throat bobbed, and Iburned.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it isn’t polite to gawk at a lady?”
“Cruel woman.” He smirked.
Rowan closed his eyes tightly, shaking his head and tilting it back. He threw his hands over his face and let out a small guttural groan that made me squirm in equal frustration.
He began walking toward my bed, and when he reached the foot of it, he stopped again. I bit my lip, not in a teasing mood in the slightest. But he didn’t move an inch. He placed his hands back in his pockets and studied every move I made, noting the hitch in my breath.
If I kept on with my very obvious flirtation, this was going to end up going somewhere I wouldn’t be able to come back from. Rowan was gorgeous, and my body had been annoyingly drawn to him ever since the first moment he put his hands on me in Oak Hollow.
I had ignored my body’s betrayal for months because I couldn’t fathom ever acting on it. To act on my basic desire toward him would be to forsake my ethical integrity, and who would I be without my morals? But right now, I didn’t really care who I was. All I could think about was that aching need.
All I could think about was him.
He tested the waters, dropping one of his arms and lightly circling a finger on my calf. I shuddered at the sensual touch. He watched his finger as it leisurely moved up the side of my leg. He stepped toward me and continued to trail up higher, stopping when he reached my lower thigh. Rowan flicked his heated eyes to mine and kept his finger still.
My heart was frantically attempting to leave my body. I focused on trying to control my breath as it clipped when I inhaled. Rowan watched the flutter of my chest and quirked his lips. I wasn’t sure how much more anticipation I could take. I was growing impatient to touch him, but I held myself back. My lips parted, and his eyes darted there.
“What are you thinking, Mavis?” His voice was smooth and dark. His finger began making lazy circles on my thigh. Heat flared in my lower abdomen, and suddenly I felt like I was on fire.
“It’s hot in here,” I admitted, utterly breathless. He lowered a second finger and then drifted them up and inward, pausing at the edge of my nightgown.
“Say the word,” he whispered, “and I’ll cool you down.”
I swallowed hard. Words were not coming to me, no matter how hard I tried to think of them. My brain was empty of all thought, only feeling.
I nodded, giving him the silent permission we both yearned for.
Rowan grinned and dipped his fingers under the nightgown and hovered them dangerously close to where I ached for him most. I lay my back on the bed and slightly parted my legs in invitation.
His fingers slipped under the edge of my underwear, dragging them slowly down. Rowan kicked his shoes off and then placed one knee on the bed next to my hip. He settled his other knee between my thighs, pushing them farther apart.
In one swift motion, I pulled my nightgown over the top of my head and tossed it on the floor. Rowan’s eyes flared with overwhelming desire at my uncovered body. I bit my lower lip in response to his intense stare.
“Gods, you’re gorgeous,” he said as he spread his hands over my thighs.
He let his hands roam over my curves and up to cup the swell of my breasts. He gently squeezed and then moved his head down to nip at the swollen peaks. I moaned, and he repeated the act.
I clutched his tunic and tugged. Rowan looked up at me and then obliged my unspoken request. He tore his tunic off and allowed me a few moments to enjoy the view. His body was a masterpiece painted by the gods themselves. Every chiseled edge and scar was beautiful.
I followed the dusting of dark hair below his navel down to the tight press of his pants. My eyes widened, and my core throbbed. That was all he could take before he snapped and lowered his lips to mine.
The first time we kissed was soft compared to this. This was frantic and fiercely passionate. He dove into the kiss with a yearning that I matched. He drank from my lips like a man dying of thirst. I opened my mouth wider to give him more access, which he quickly took advantage of and flicked his tongue against mine.
We became a tangle of tongues and teeth, all the while his hands grabbed and massaged my curves and breasts.
I ran my hands down his back, digging my nails in just enough so that the pain was laced with pleasure. He groaned into my mouth, and I unraveled.
