Page 58

He glares at me like he wants blood.

Then he gives me exactly that.

He lunges the last inch and bites me, not my lip this time but my shoulder. It's hard enough to make me hiss, and my hand tightens on him by reflex while his teeth sink in like he needs to hurt me for it.

The sting goes straight to my cock.

Instead of laughing, I grab the back of his neck and kiss him again, hard and open-mouthed, giving him exactly what he earned. He fights me with his mouth, biting, shoving, gasping when I lick into him, and I let him have the violence of it, let him claw at my shoulder and chest while I hold him in place and swallow every furious sound he can't contain.

My hand slides from his throat to his jaw, then lower again, over the tense line of his chest and the flat of his stomach. When I drag it between us, brushing deliberately over the hard shape trapped under his swim trunks, Rowan jerks like I shocked him.

A broken sound tears out of him, and his whole face goes red.

I pull back just enough to look at him, breathing hard, my forehead almost touching his. He stares at me, furious, his mouth swollen now, his chest heaving, one hand still fisted in my shoulder like he forgot to let go.

"You're hard."

"Shut up," he pants.

I groan. "That's what I thought."

His expression turns murderous first, then humiliated, then something worse.

He shoves at me again, frantic now. This time I let him go, because if I don't, I'm going to drag him against the wall and make a mess of both of us in a building that definitely has cameras.

He stumbles back a step in the water, breathing like he's just surfaced from too deep, one hand flying to his throat before he catches himself. The sight of that almost undoes what little judgment I've got left.

"Asshole," he gets out.

"Probably."

He looks like he wants to hit me, kiss me again, or both.

I let my smile take its time, then let my gaze drop. I make sure he sees me looking as I drag my hand down the front of my swim trunks and palm myself through the fabric, just enough to show him exactly what he did.

His breath catches, and his lips part.

I'll see you tomorrow, little mouse.

I push off toward the ladder before he can decide whether to run or come at me again. I haul myself out of the pool in one clean motion and take my time straightening, giving him the full view of my back and shoulders before I turn just enough to look down at him.

"And when I text you," I add, grabbing his towel instead of mine and slinging it over my shoulder with a grin, "you'll reply."

His glare sharpens. "Go f⁠—"

"Tomorrow, Rowan."

Then I walk out, dripping water across the tile, still hard and grinning like a bastard, because he's still in the pool, still staring, still breathing like I wrecked him. And if I stay another thirty seconds, I'll go back in there and do something neither of us is ready for yet.

Dad wants answers. Halvern wants him visible. Something about Rowan Ashford doesn't add up, and every sensible instinct I possess is telling me to take a step back, clear my head, and start paying attention to the questions instead of the guy.

But somehow, I don't give a single fuck anymore.

10

ROWAN

Ciaran Virel kissed me last night.