I throw myself back on the couch, staring into the darkness, my mind going through everything. She’s going to make this hard for me. “Goddamn it.”
Leaning up, I grab my cell out of my back pocket, knowing what I need to do, even though it’s the last thing I want to do.
*I need you on standby. I wouldn’t ask this if it weren’t important.
I know he’s not going to message me back, have me waiting, like he always does. But I’ll wait if it means Rowan will be safe when I’m not around.
There is no way I can fall back asleep. Picking myself up off the leather couch, my body unsticking, I head to the employee breakroom. I make myself a cup of coffee and sit at the table, just waiting for my phone to light up.
The last thing I want to do is message him what I need, but if he leaves me with no choice, then I’ll have to.
My eyes focus on the calendar on the wall that’s a year out of date, weighing everything. Using the hot coffee cup to soothe my battered hands, my eyes blurring with my now unfocused stare, my mind racing, and it comes right back to her. To Rowan.
I know better than anyone why she wants to end this once and for all. I had that gnawing at my heart for years after Lauren died. I get it, but you have to be smart about it. And I can tell the only thing on her mind is payback. And that’s fine; let that be the motivating factor, but don’t let it blind you in the process. One wrong move and you’re dead.
My skin crawls knowing she was hours away, watching him. And it pisses me off. I don’t know exactly what she did when she was there. Doing this shows me she doesn’t care how it makes me feel. Nor the consequences of her actions.
Shaking my head, filling my nostrils with the smell of my black coffee, every scenario runs through my brain, and it’s all worse cases… Her dying.
I’m in my personal hell and second cup of coffee when she walks into the break room, hair damp and skin red. I know already; she sat under the hot ass water letting it beat her. Rowan makes herself feel pain. I’ve known this since the beginning, and I’m not sure how to help her know she doesn’t have to. It’s something I’ve never brought up with her, but seeing her now, I can’t help my words.
“Why do you hurt yourself? Why do you make yourself feel pain, baby?” I hold my cup of coffee like it will shield me from her words that I know will break me. With Rowan, I want to protect her, make sure no one ever hurts her again, but here she is, the one hurting herself.
Her eyes widened at my words. And I know this will be a very touchy subject. I straighten up in the metal chair, waiting. Preparing.
Rowan paces the linoleum floor before finally sitting down in her own uncomfortable chair. Her blue eyes are even more blue by the bloodshot surrounding them, making them pop.
“I didn’t before.” She breathes in heavily. “My cuticle peeling was a nervous habit, but then I felt the pain and how I was the one inflicting it on myself, only me. When I’d pulled down way too far, the burning sting let me know I was still here. They didn’t kill me; I was still breathing. Seeing my blood pool in my nail beds shows me I’m okay.” She shrugs her shoulders as her eyes travel to her splayed fingers, scarred and some with healing skin or with new wounds. “Being forced to feel the pain they made me go through, now I can make myself feel it and I can stop if I want to… I couldn’t then. I scrub my body raw because even after all this time, I’m still dirty, Luca.” Those last few words came out in a broken whisper.
“You’re not dirty, Rowan.” She won’t look at me. Pushing myself from the chair, closing the gap between us, bending down, I turn her chair toward me, so she has to look at me. “You are one of the purest and cleanest people I know. You, baby, there isn’t a dirty spot on you. They couldn’t soil you, no matter how hard they tried. You can’t soil perfection.” My voice is assuring, hoping I can tattoo those words into her mind, so she can always think back to them when she feels less than. I fucking hate them. Hate them for the way they have molded her into who she is. But I will forever mold to the way she needs me to.
Grabbing her hand, forcing her to stand. Her body is shivering, not from cold, but from the truth she just told me, from baring herself of something she’s kept from me.
I gently lean into her, placing a kiss on her plump lips. Rowan stands, not moving. Placing her fingers to my lips, kissing each one of them, and between every peck, “You are perfect,” I praise her. Kissing all ten of her fingers. I move mine under the waistband of her yoga pants, pulling them down her legs, so she stands before me with her pussy bared, perfect.
“Step out of them,” I direct her. Holding on to the table, she uses her foot to pull herself out of her pants. “Shirt.”
“Luca,” she says with her eyebrows raised, trepidation on her face.
Stepping back, I say, “Shirt. Now.”
I watch the beauty in front of me, listen to my words, before she stands naked in the gym breakroom.
With my hands, I roam them down her arms. “Nothing can dirty you, baby. And if you think you’re soiled, then I’m fucking garbage.” I lift her in my arms; a startled yelp escapes her before I place her on the table. “Spread them.” She smiles slightly as she scoots back on the table, bringing her feet to the edge, opening her legs wide. Her pussy blooms in front of me as she leans back on her arms.
Licking my lips, I trace my finger up her thigh, watching her bite her lip. “I want you to love yourself, like I love you, Rowan,” I tell her honestly. “You, this,” I say, leaning my head between her legs, smelling her scent. Fresh with a slight scent of only Rowan. “I’ll worship for the rest of my days.” I pan to look at her, our eyes connecting as I stick out my tongue, gently lick her clit, her stomach sucking in from the sensation, before she throws her head back, a moan now escaping her parted mouth.
Everything this woman does undoes me. Rubbing my index finger over her clit, down her slit, to her opening, rubbing her wetness around, I stick it in, working it open a bit, before I put my middle finger in. Her walls stretch for them, conforming to it. She moans loudly. I pick up my pace before adding another finger, and she bucks. My favorite thing is watching Rowan come undone. When she lets her walls down, she shows me who she really is, under all the worrying, planning, and thinking. This is Rowan. Loud, feral, and unapologetic. When she doesn’t mince her words or think twice before she says something, this amazing woman, withering from just my fingers, is Rowan.
A smile stretches across my face when I watch her lean up, eyes heavy with need. “Fuck me.” Her eyes are filled with hunger, for me and for my cock.
She doesn’t need to ask me twice. Removing my coated fingers from her, I unbutton my pants, letting them pool at my feet. My cock is hard as I coat Rowan's wetness onto my palm, stroking and lubing my dick at the same time. She watches me as I play with my dick before lining it up to her entrance. Bending over her, stealing her mouth, and moaning as I enter her tight pussy. Pulling her lip between my teeth, I put pressure on the sensitive skin, biting before I let it go. “You are mine. This is mine. If you think you’re unclean, I will lick every part of you with my tongue until you feel clean,” I promise her as I push in deeper. When Rowan wraps around me, tight and warm, I forgeteverything. Forget how mad I was at her, forget it all. With a groan, “Look at me,” I command her. “Do you hear me?” I ask while pounding into her, hard and without worry. No worries about hurting her, because I know worrying about that will ruin us. I have to trust she’ll be honest with me about that, too.
“Yes. Because of you, I’m clean, Luca,” she cries out. “Oh, God. Fuck me harder. Yes!” she pleads. And I do just that. The table legs make the most godawful noises as I thrust into her, moving it inch by inch. The metal legs scrap with each thrust.
“Come in me,” she begs, as I feel her pussy constricting. And with that vice grip happening, one more thrust, I’m coming, screaming out her name, worshiping it, as if I’m praying to her, hoping she answers all my prayers.
We both stare at one another, panting. Smiling, I lay on top of her, head on her chest, her heart beating in my ear. “I love you,” I tell her.
