9. Rowan
CHAPTER 9
ROWAN
“ W ill you take those things out of your ears and listen, please, Fisher.”
Fisher rolled his eyes at me, another thing I wasn’t fond of, but I tried to remember to choose my battles. If getting away with a couple of eye rolls made him more willing to at least pretend to listen to me, I’d call it a win.
“It’s early.”
“You have school in a week and you’ve been up late all summer. You need to get on a proper schedule.”
Fisher stared at me, saying nothing. It was something his mom used to do whenever she didn’t like what I said. Fisher might have inherited my hair and my freckles, but he’d gotten her eyes and the set of her jaw. Her stubborn streak too.
“It’s early though.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and took a breath. “I’m aware of the time. That’s the point.”
“I’m not tired.” Fisher crossed his arms over his chest.
“Because you’ve been staying up late and sleeping in.”
“I’m just going to lie awake half the night.”
Somehow, I doubted that, but I didn’t want to get into a huge fight over something as silly as bedtime. “Fisher, please. I know the end of summer means a new school, and that’s probably at least part of what has you all worked up, but you need to get back into a proper sleep routine.”
“I hate it here.” Fisher stormed away and up the stairs, his heavy footsteps booming through the house to voice his displeasure with me. He’d been surly all night, ever since we ran into Gil before dinner and I’d told Fisher not to interrupt him.
Though I remembered what it was like to be twelve and starting a new school, I followed Fisher up the stairs and to his room. The lights were off and his room was oddly silent, but I knew he was in there.
“Fisher, we don’t leave the room angry, remember?” It was something I couldn’t handle. Even now, years later, it still twisted my stomach into knots. It was better than it had been after the accident first happened, but it still stuck with me.
The worst of it was that I couldn’t remember how the argument started, but it had snowballed because both Lisa and I could be hardheaded about things. The whole thing got blown out of proportion and the next thing I knew, she snatched her keys off the counter and told me she was going to see her mom. The door slammed behind her. Her tires squawked on the pavement when she pulled away. And that’s the last thing I ever heard of her.
They found her car at the bottom of a ravine on the way to her mom’s house. Her parents lived out of town, but the route was familiar to Lisa and she’d often said she could make the trip blindfolded.
“Fish?”
I stepped into the room and Fisher let out a sigh.
“Sorry, Dad.”
“It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize. I get it. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Nah. I’m fine.”
I lingered in the door for another half a minute, wondering where the time had gone. It seemed like only two weeks ago Fisher was born. Last week, he’d been a toddler. Now he was a grumpy pre-teen who didn’t think he needed to do things like go to bed at a decent hour.
“Night, Fish.”
“Night, Dad.”
Satisfied that Fisher and I were back on good terms, I went downstairs. We’d managed to finish unpacking and the boxes had been collapsed and taken into the garage. For the moment, there was nothing for me to do. The house was livable, if not perfect. But perfection took time.
I stretched out on the couch and flicked the TV on. I missed having someone to watch TV with. It was stupid, but I liked talking about the shows I watched. I missed curling up with someone and choosing a show. I found a low-stakes reality show that was easy to follow, even if I forgot to pay attention sometimes.
I must have drifted off, but the sound of someone knocking on my door had me getting to my feet. Shuffling across the living room, I looked at the time and realized it was nearly midnight. Fisher’s shoes were still by the door, so he was still upstairs sleeping. My panic calmed further when I pulled the door open and saw Gil on my front step with a six-pack in his hand.
“I woke you.” Gil looked apologetic. “Sorry, I saw lights on. I figured you were awake.”
Stepping aside, I waved for him to come in. “I sat down for a minute and the next thing I knew, you were knocking on the door.”
Gil hesitated in the doorway. “I can come back.”
That was the last thing I wanted. Not because I didn’t want him here, but because I did. He was all I’d been able to think about ever since the other night when I’d made an ass of myself. We said it was supposed to be a one-time thing, but here he was on my doorstep in the middle of the night with a six-pack of beer. A different brand from before.
“Is that your usual?” I asked him once he finally stepped inside. Gil tugged at one of the cans and handed it to me. I tried not to stare at his hands, but I had a weakness for hands like Gil’s. Long fingers. Tight grip. The kind that still had me feeling his touch days later.
“Figured it was my turn.” Gil’s gaze took in the decor as he toed out of his shoes. The walls needed a coat of paint, and some of the fixtures were in desperate need of updating, but I doubted Gil cared much about things like that.
I wanted to ask him what he was doing here, but my mouth had gone dry and my ability to form words had vanished, so I cracked open the beer and took a drink. It had a lighter flavor than the last one we’d shared and it went down smooth.
“What episode is this?” Gil set the beer down on the table and took a seat on the couch.
“I don’t know. I started the new season a couple hours ago, but I don’t think I made it very far before I fell asleep.”
Gil snagged the remote off the coffee table and clicked the show back to the first episode. “I’ve seen them, but they’re good to re-watch.”
His gaze flicked to me, standing awkwardly in my own home, then to the couch. “Have a seat, Rowan. I don’t bite.”
“That’s a shame.” My jaw dropped and I scrambled to recover, but Gil’s eyes twinkled and he grinned at me like I’d said the right thing instead of the wrong one. From the heat of my face, I could tell I was blushing, which I hated. But with Gil looking at me expectantly, I couldn’t just keep standing there. I managed to sit down on the other end of the couch without tripping over my own feet or further making an ass of myself.
A smile tugged at Gil’s face, then he looked away from me and back at the television, giving me a perfect view at the scar that traveled down the side of his face.
“How did you get the scar?” I took another sip of the beer, more to stop myself from blathering on at him. Sometimes I thought I should be banned from speaking to attractive people. Clearly, I was terrible at it.
“An accident.” Gil said.
“Does it still hurt?” My fingers twitched with the urge to touch it. I wanted to trace the ruined skin with my fingertips and explain to him that the scar was probably the hottest thing I’d ever seen. But that was probably weird. Amazingly, I was able to keep that particular thought on lockdown.
“Not anymore. Not often.” Gil stretched an arm over the back of the couch, then looked over at me. His body was angled toward mine, and the way he held himself made me feel like prey that had wandered directly into the path of the predator. Instead of running, though, it made me want to roll over and surrender.
“What are you doing here, Gil?” I didn’t move when he dragged his gaze down my body, appraising me. Maybe remembering the same things I’d been remembering for the past three days.
“Where’s Fisher?” Gil’s voice was darker now, huskier. Hungrier.
“Upstairs. Asleep.”
I swallowed audibly. “We said… one time.”
My mouth needed to stop moving, unless it was against his mouth. Or some other equally appetizing part of his anatomy.
“That’s what we said,” Gil agreed. Then he leaned forward, somehow encroaching into my space, trapping me with the intensity of his stare. “Is that what you want?”
“Not especially.”
“God, Rowan, you…”
I might never know how Gil intended to finish that sentence because his mouth was on mine, hand in my hair at first, then around the back of my neck to keep me where he wanted me. As if I intended on going anywhere. As if there were any place on the planet I’d want to be rather than right here. Except maybe closer to Gil.
Tentatively, I reached for him, running my hand up his arm. His skin was hot and the t-shirt he wore was impossibly soft, a stark contrast to the rough stubble on his cheeks. Gil kissed me like he’d die if he stopped. Like his life depended on mapping the inside of my mouth with his tongue. And I was powerless against him. I had no defenses against a man like him—all tall, dark, and broody. For a minute earlier today, I thought he was on a date and my stomach had sunk down to the bottom of my feet, taking my heart with it. But they were friends. And Gil and I were—something else.
Reaching for Gil with my other hand proved to be a mistake because I forgot I was holding on to a beer. The can dropped from my hand, landing on my lap. The cold liquid made me gasp and I pulled away, snatching the can off my lap before it could make a bigger mess.
“Fuck.” I shot to my feet and tugged at the saturated fabric of my pants. “That was smooth, Rowan. Real smooth.”
Gil rose to his feet, seemingly unbothered by my flightiness. It was like I was always flustered around him and he just didn’t care. He didn’t look at me weird, or make an excuse to leave. He just pretended it was normal for me to act unhinged all the time.
“If you wanted out of your pants, all you had to do was say so.” Gil set his beer down and reached for me. Before I could say no, he hauled me against him, wrapping one arm around my waist while he popped the button of my pants open effortlessly.
Gil handled me like he knew me better than I knew myself. The possibility that he just might left me feeling vulnerable, but not to the point where I shut down. No, instead I came alive, whimpering into Gil’s mouth when he worked his hand into the front of my pants.
There wasn’t a single thing about Gil that was hesitant. The fact that he knew exactly what he wanted to do to me turned me on more than anything I’d ever experienced. He tugged me slowly, but with a possessive grip that made my eyes roll into the back of my head.
It wasn’t the motorcycle or the scar on Gil’s face that made him dangerous. It was the way I craved his touch. The way I melted when he kissed me. It was the way I wanted him to have me however he’d take me, however he wanted me. I barely knew him, but that didn’t seem to matter because I doubted I’d be able to stay away from him.
Gil stroked me again and I let out an embarrassingly loud moan which was answered by Gil’s mouth sealing over mine, muffling the sound.
“Shhh,” he said. “You need to be quiet for me, Rowan. Can you do that?”
His thumb slid over the sensitive head of my cock, swiping at a bead of precum that had leaked out. I bit my lip and stifled another sound.
“That’s good, Rowan. Just like that.”
I was too turned on to be embarrassed by the way my cock leaked with every word Gil spoke. The praise he gave me sent frissons of pleasure arcing through my body. My brain and my dick agreed that I liked being told I was good. Later maybe I’d have the brainpower to unravel that particular revelation, but for now, all I could manage to do was wrap my arms around Gil’s neck and let him devour me.