As his cock softens, I feel it slip from my hole, and that drags a small whimper from my lips. One hand moves from my shoulder to caress gently at the back of my neck.
My brain is trying to comprehend the past thirty minutes, but it’s having trouble keeping up, and I’m fucking exhausted.
That sweet scent is mixing in with the musky smell of sex, and his warm body is lulling me to sleep.
My flower.Mine. Do you remember me now?
“Eli?” Rowan mutters, voice hoarse and small.
“Hm?” I cannot find the energy to speak.
“I told you so.”
I do find the energy to laugh.
Chapter Thirteen
Rowan
My body feels the way it normally does after an intense workout. Relaxed and in some way satiated. A contentment I’ve never known flows through my veins, and it’s making me hungry—it’s making me greedy.
I fucked Elijah again last night. I ran my tongue over his skin and buried myself so deep inside of his body I thought I’d never get free again.
Not that I’d want to. If I could die just like that—submerged completely in everything that is Elijah—I would die happy.
He shook and purred beneath my touch; he fell apart from where he sat on top of me. If I hadn’t known that he was meant to be mine before last night, I would undoubtedly know now.
“My flower.”
Are you kidding me? Fuck, I could come just remembering the words leaving his sweet little mouth.
Am I really? Is my natural scent so sweet to him that he sees me in such a gentle light, even as I’m railing him relentlessly?
I don’t know how much more I can take. I’m not sure how much higher this affection can surge before I succumb to the pain of it.
Even now, I need him against me—I need to hear his voice. I feel that any second I am not with him, I might never be again.
Which is probably why I’m here now—watching him walk out of the office that belongs to theFort Myers Post. Sitting in my truck—parked outside of the antique shop across the street—I lift my camera.
Just as he’s cutting onto the grass that lies in the center of the town square, I snap a photo.
Elijah is wearing white dress pants that sit high on his waist with a blue button-up tucked neatly into his gold belt. I’m not sure where his jacket is, but it’s most definitely too chilly to be forgoing one.
Not that I can jump out of the driver’s seat and get onto him for it.
I’m not supposed to be here. After we finished last night, we left things at an undecided impasse. He texted me this morning and told me to have a good day, but other than that, nothing has been exchanged.
I most definitely didn’t tell Elijah I’d be creeping outside of his office to take photos of him.
I’m not trying to be weird, but this burning need in my chest to be near him is suffocating—and it’s kind of pathetic that my corkboard only has one photo of him. Two birds, one stone.
Elijah makes his way into Tabitha’s Place, presumably for lunch, and from my spot in front of the neighboring store, I can see him easily.
He grabs a booth by the front window as if he’s aware I’m watching and wants to make my life that much easier.
Sweet little angel.
He’s so fucking beautiful today. All bright hair and big, doe eyes. I want to eat him up and swallow the pieces before another man can set eyes on him. I want him to boss me around and watch me bow to him.
