“I was angry at you for so long,” I confess, gesturing to the letters scattered across the bed. “But reading these... Ro, you were just a kid. We both were.”
He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I should have found a way to tell you how I felt. I should have?—”
“Shh.” I brush a thumb across his lips. “We can’t change the past. But maybe... Maybe we can stop letting it overshadow what’s been happening between us.”
His hands slide from my face to my shoulders, down my arms until he’s grasping both my hands in his. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I think it’s time for me to let go of the past. Really let go. This doesn’t feel so fake anymore.”
A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Good.”
His admission sends a jolt of shock through my nervous system. Suddenly unsure, I glance down at our clasped hands.
Catching on to my hesitation, he gives me a little nudge. “But?”
“But. This is all happening so fast. One minute I feel like I still hate your guts; the next I’m sitting in your guest room. On your bed. In your mansion of a house, reading letters that make me want to hold that broken twelve-year-old boy tight and never let him go.”
“Izzy,” he murmurs softly.
“Obviously, I’m confused as hell,” I admit with a watery laugh. “But I know I don’t want to keep fighting whatever this is between us. It’s exhausting.”
His thumb traces circles on the back of my hand, sending shivers up my arm. “So where does that leave us?”
I take a deep breath. “Honestly? I have no fucking clue. But maybe we can figure it out together? Take things slow?”
His lips capture mine and I sink into him. All too soon he breaks away, only to say something that makes my core pulse with need.
“You sure ‘bout that?” Rowan whispers against my lips,breath warm as it tickles my skin. “No expectations. No pressure. Just be with me right here, right now.”
My heart is pounding so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if he can hear it. The intensity in his hazel eyes makes my stomach flip, and I nod, not trusting my voice.
“We don’t have to have sex,” he continues as he gathers the letters, shoving them back into the box and setting it aside on the nightstand. “We could just…” Reaching out, he tucks his hand behind my neck and squeezes, giving me a mischievous grin and a shrug. “…make out.”
That makes me snort. “You want to make out with me?”
“Yup.”
“Is that all?”
“Not even close.” His eyes flare. “Let me take care of you. Will you let me?”
The thought of having his head between my legs again has my core flexing as I swallow hard, shifting in my seat on the bed.
“Mmmm. Seems someone likes the sound of that.”
My breathing picks up when he takes my mouth, one hand in my hair, the other teasing along the hem of my shirt.
His touch is light and my body instantly responds, warming beneath his fingertips as they dance along the sliver of exposed skin at my waist.
“Ro...” I breathe against his mouth, not quite sure what I’m really asking for.
“Tell me what you need,” he murmurs, voice rough with desire.
“I need to feel good,” I confess.
His eyes darken as he leans in, pressing me back against the pillows. “I can more than help with that.”
Ever so slowly, he slides a hand under my shirt, calloused fingertips tracing patterns up and over my ribs. Histouch is reverent, almost worshipful, and it makes my pulse stutter in the divot of my throat.
