“You enjoy the work?”
I shrug again. “It’s a job.”
“One of two, from what I gather.” Rowan turns onto the highway toward Rockhaven, merging into traffic with a check of his mirrors. “Locksmith and diner prep cook, right? You used to also work a night shift at a gas station, but you quit.”
Disquieted, I drop the hash browns back into the bag. “You’ve been busy.”
“Information is valuable.” He sips his coffee, focus never leaving the road. “Especially when it concerns interesting people.”
I turn to stare out the window, counting exits as we pass them, tracking our location by habit. The city thins out, buildings growing farther apart, green spaces appearing between developments as we approach the border of Ashford Heights and Rockhaven.
“Exit 32,” I say when we’re half a mile out. “Then right at the light.”
Rowan follows my directions, pulling into a parking lot connected to a row of boutique stores and professional offices. The car slides into a space near the end of the lot, engine idling.
“That building there?” He points to a brownstone with brass fixtures gleaming in the morning light.
“Yeah.” I crumple my wrapper into a tight ball. “Should take about two hours.”
Rowan doesn’t turn off the car but shifts into park, letting the heat continue to flow from the vents. Our breath begins to fog the windows, the cold outside creating condensation on the glass. The effect is isolating, cocooning us in a temporary bubble removed from the world outside.
“Thanks,” I say, the word unfamiliar on my tongue. “For the ride. And breakfast.”
“Practical solution for both of us.” Rowan’s fingers tap a rhythm on the steering wheel. “You arrive atyour job on time. I have the pleasure of spending time with you.”
The coffee cup weighs almost nothing as I drain the last scalding sip. Empty cup, empty wrapper, ride and food provided. The tally in my head calculates what I’ve taken versus what I’ve given, and the imbalance itches under my skin.
My time isn’t worth that much, and I don’t take handouts.
Tossing the to-go bag onto the floor next to my tool bag, I turn to Rowan. His profile cuts a sharp line against the fogged window, with the hint of stubble darkening his jaw. His attention shifts to me, nostrils flaring as he registers the change in my scent.
My knee hits the gearshift as I climb over the console, the motion neither graceful nor unsure. Rowan’s hands find my hips, steadying me as I settle onto his lap, my thighs bracketing his.
“Well, hello there.” His fingers dig into my hips, testing the bruises he left last time, finding them through layers of denim.
“I don’t owe anyone.” The words come out rougher than intended, my throat tight with not quite anger or desire, but an emotion that exists in the overlap between the two.
Understanding flashes, and Rowan’s mouth curves into a dangerous half-smile. “Paying your debts?”
“Balancing the ledger.” I shift my hips, and he thickens beneath me.
My body remembers his, craves the stretch of him, and heat floods my bloodstream while the numbers keep running in my head.
Rowan’s hands slide up my sides, under my jacket but over my shirt, thumbs finding the grooves between my ribs. “Such integrity.”
“Shut up.” I crash my mouth onto his, cutting off whatever else he might say.
The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s teeth and tongue and hints of coffee, bitter and familiar. Rowan bites my lower lip, not hard enough to break skin but enough to send a jolt of electricity down my spine. My hands fist in his shirt, bunching the expensive fabric.
His tongue curls around mine, practiced and sure, while his fingers slip under my shirt to find bare skin.
I roll my hips, grinding down on the erection straining at the front of his jeans. The friction draws a groan from his throat that vibrates my lips. His hands drop to my ass, gripping hard enough to guide my movements without taking control.
The windows fog over as our breathing quickens,hot exhales creating a barrier between us and the outside world.
“How do you want this?” Rowan asks, his mouth moving to my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot below my ear.
“Fast.” I reach between us, fingers working at his belt and the button of his jeans. “No time for slow.”
