Page 11 of Rowan: His Exception

Fuck.

She’s really starting to test my patience.

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. "Move."

"No." She crosses her arms. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to threaten me in front of everyone and then just walk away."

I open my eyes, and I’m close enough to see the flush in her cheeks, the set of her jaw. She's scared. Standing her ground anyway.

Okay. I can respect that. But that doesn’t mean she’s not pissing me off.

"Get out of my way."

"Or what?" She tilts her chin up. "You'll leave me for the coyotes?" she says, waving an arm in the direction where everyone is now waiting.

My hand shoots out before I think. Wraps around her wrist, pulling her in.

“Hey,” she squeals as her body collides with mine, soft, warm, and all wrong. “What the hell, Rowan?” I press her hand flat against my chest, over my heart. Let her feel how fast it's beating.

"This, Claire," I say, my voice low but rough. "This is what happens."

Her eyes widen, feeling her pulse jump against my thumb.

I hold her there a few seconds too long. Let her understand exactly how easy it would be.

Then I drop her wrist like it burns, stepping back.

"Why did you do that?" she asks, rubbing her wrist.

"Because you’re too fucking stubborn. You don’t listen."

"To what, asshole? Your vague threat? Your big, bad scary voice?" She laughs, but it's shaky. "I'm supposed to just... what? Fall in line because you said so?"

"You're supposed to stay away from me."

"And why’s that? We just met this morning. You know nothing about me."

"Don't I?" I’m now crowding her space even more. "Claire Calloway. From Charlotte, North Carolina. Recently divorced, guessing that’s the reason for the tan line on your ring finger." I watch her hand curl into a fist. "You stepped out of the car this morning ready to fight someone. Walked into Lou’s, ordered bacon and eggs, shoving it in your mouth like an animal who hasn’t eaten in days."

Her mouth opens to say something. Then, closes.

"You talked back when I called you ma'am. Laughed at me. Asked if being an asshole comes naturally." I pause, watching her eyes move, searching mine. "Then you told Sunburn to fuck off when he hit on you, and I sat there with my shoulders so tight I could barely breathe, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. And why some douche speaking to you was having this effect on me."

I grab her wrist again. Not hard. Just enough to make her gasp. "Rowan…"

"I went back to my office," I say, thumb tracing the vein in her wrist. "Pulled your application. Read every word." My voice drops. "I don't do that, Claire. I don't care, much less memorize what my students wrote about proving something to themselves." I tighten my grip. "But I did. With you. From the moment you walked out of that diner, I've been thinking about your mouth. Your hands. How you'd feel if I actually touched you."

Her throat works. She doesn't pull away.

“I'm not safe. I'm not good.” I say. “But I can’t stand here and pretend I don't want to break every rule I have with you.”

I drop her wrist. Step back.

"So move. Go join the group. Before I decide, keeping my distance isn't worth it."

She stands there, breathing fast, still not moving.

I stare at her. Standing there in those cutoff shorts, thighs bare and sun-kissed, top clinging to her skin. She's breathing hard from the confrontation, chest rising fast, and I shouldn't be watching. Taking in the shape of her perfect tits, or imagining how she'd feel pinned under me.