“Darlin’.” He leaned forward slightly, his gaze mischievous. “Sneaking up on people is kinda in my job description.” He winked at her, then scooped a fingerful of the creamy potatoes from his chest and popped them into his mouth. His eyes widened in delight. “Wow, these are awesome!”
Enya blinked, a mix of surprise and laughter bubbling up. “You’re insane.”
“Hate to break it to ya, but that’s kinda in the job description, too.” He stepped closer, the space between them shrinking as the air charged with unspoken words.
The closer he came, the more her pulse stuttered until she could see the flecks of gold in his irises now, and the way his lashes cast shadows when he dipped his chin just slightly. His name trembled behind her lips, but before she could say it, his mouth was on hers.
At first, it was hesitant, a question rather than a demand, his lips brushing hers like he was testing the weight of something fragile. Then it deepened, his hand cupping the back of her neck as if hefeared she might pull away. God, why did the taste of him make her brain scramble, and every coherent thought she had, take off without looking back?
The kitchen faded into the background as her fingers clenched into the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer, desperately reaching for something to hold on to in a world that had spiraled into chaos for far too long.
God, I could drown in him and I’d welcome the darkness when I black out.
Rowan’s lips moved against hers like he was memorizing her essence. His fingers slid up her neck, weaved through her hair, held her with a fierce urgency, as if she might evaporate if he let go.
She yearned to lose herself in him and welcomed the warmth radiating from his body. The way his breath hitched whenever she pressed closer dragged a carnal moan from them both, and she was here for it.
Her fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt, not merely to draw him nearer but to tether herself, to prevent herself unraveling completely right here in front of the stove. Because if she halted, if she so much as faltered or paused for just a moment to allow her sanity to prevail, the crushing weight of everything he was facing tomorrow would come crashing back, and she wasn’t prepared to deal with the terror that bubbled and swirled deep in her chest. A sound escaped him, reverberating through her as her knees trembled beneath her.
He’s just as lost as I am.
His other hand found her waist, his thumb grazing the bare skin where her shirt rode up, igniting something within her and shearched into him, her body responding instinctively before her mind could remind her to guard her heart. His grip tightened, and she sighed in response.
Heknowswhat I need.
She longed for this, for his mark to linger on her skin, the feel and taste of him to become a part of her genetic makeup, because for this one fleeting moment, nothing else mattered.
No looming threats, ghosts from the past, or suffocating anxiety existed. Only the intoxicating press of his mouth, the thudding rhythm of his heart against her chest, the way his breath stuttered when she teased his lower lip.
I could stay here forever.
I could let this consume me.
She would, happily, if only he wanted her just as much.
The kitchen door swung open with a bang, and Enya jerked out of Rowan’s arms so fast she nearly tripped over her own feet, her fingers slipping from his shirt as if she’d burned them.
Crap.
Rowan didn’t fare much better, and she glared at where his hand still hovered in the air where her neck had been.
“Lower your hand,” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth, before turning to where Gael stood in the doorway with one eyebrow arched as he smirked at them both.
Behind him, Calloway and Dawsyn crowded in, nudging Gael out of the way so they could reach the table.
“Well,” Gael drawled. “I was starting to think I was imagining the heat that sparks between you, good to know my eyesight’s still twenty-twenty.”
Rowan’s jaw tightened. “Not a word.”
“Oh, Boss.” Calloway reached for a potato chip from the open bag on the counter. “We wouldn’t dream of it.” His tone said the exact opposite.
Dawsyn, ever the instigator, whistled softly and winked at Enya. “Damn, Seahorse. You finally gonna admit you got a thing for our Enya?”
Her face burned. She could feel the heat radiating off her cheeks, could practically hear the sizzle of her embarrassment. Rowan shot a glare at his team that could’ve melted steel, but before he could retort, Jericho, Bronx, Scout, and even Valley, who usually had the social grace of a ghost, filtered in. They all froze mid-step, their eyes flicking between Rowan and Enya, trying to figure out what they’d missed.
“Smells good in here.” Jericho’s voice was carefully neutral, though his lips twitched.
“Enya made dinner.” Rowan said.
