Rowan (The Irish Wolves Book 3)

Chapter 31

“Goddammit,” Hugh growled. He tried calling her phone to see if she’d actually shut it off. It went straight to voicemail.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

He knew he’d been screwing things up with Rowan, but damn it all to hell, he hadn’t meant to build any type of barrier between them. He lived for her. She knew that! He had wanted Rowan from the sidelines for months. It still shocked him that she was finally his. Watching and doing were two vastly different actions.

Where he would normally watch her interact with her sisters and his sons, he was now expected to jump right in the middle of them. The five of them were a group, one he knew he could join, and did on occasion, but also one that he didn’t feel he quite fit.

He loved his sons. He loved their wives. He loved Rowan. They were all of an age. He belonged to a way older demographic.

The day before Rowan had been taken had been one of the best of his life. He thought then that as long as they were together, he could handle getting out of his comfort zone. She and her sisters told each other everything. He told himself he didn’t care. He could laugh it off like his sons did—and if that were the only thing, he could and would endure the ribbing.

The truth was, all of those things were true, but not the real problem. He fucking hated he was so much older than Rowan. He hated that she was the youngest out of the whole family besides his grandson, Daniel.

While they were at the rehabilitation center, he could tell she didn’t understand why he was standoffish during the day. He was hoping she wouldn’t address it.

The thought of having everyone there know he was in an intimate relationship with someone almost thirty years his junior was…Jesus, he couldn’t even describe how much he despised anyone knowing his private business, especially if they had an opinion about it. And they would…have opinions, that is.

It shouldn’t matter. He knew it shouldn’t matter. He was never letting her go. She would be forever his. They’d made a commitment to each other, for fuck’s sake.

He needed more time to get used to things. Public things. Forgetting his age.

After that last text, time didn’t seem to be on his side. He’d hurt her feelings, and she wasn’t happy, which meant he was fucking furious with himself. He stared ahead, watching the SUV in front of them, ignoring the driver’s two attempts at conversation. He needed to fix this, but they wouldn’t have any private time on the plane.

Hugh leaned his head against the headrest, resisting the urge to slam his skull repeatedly against it. They would work this out. They would always work things out. There was no other course. Rowan was busting his balls because he deserved it, but she’d always known their path would be rocky. His stomach clenched at the coming confrontation. Perhaps he should lighten the mood by bringing up her sketchbook. He barely suppressed a moan as he remembered the turn of each erotic page—the driver had been eyeing him suspiciously and was probably one weird noise away from dumping his ass on the side of the road—but that book…Rowan’s drawings were so lifelike, so detailed, Christ Almighty, he’d even blushed at some of the positions. They would reenact them all.

His untimely sexual fantasies paused as they took the exit ramp toward the private airfield. He texted Bobby before putting his phone away. There was no point in waiting for a text from Rowan.

The driver parked nextto his family. Bre had already exited the front passenger seat, a diaper bag over her shoulder. Bran was helping Raven out, who was holding their son to her chest. She smiled sweetly at Bran, who then kissed his wife.

Patrick climbed out next. Hugh shook his head in wonder. His boys’ similar looks and striking white hair always made him smile. The fact that they were also affectionate, funny, and intelligent…those things spiked his pride. Pat turned to help River down. Before she took the final step, he bent to kiss her stomach, which was quite rounded with their first child. River smiled and kissed her husband when he stood straight.

And then it was Rowan stepping down. Hugh stood there dumbly, suitcases and bags weighing down both arms as he watched the most beautiful woman he’d ever known peek her head out. He inwardly groaned. He should have been there to help her down, to have her smile at him, her dimples giving away her mischievous nature.

He should have given her a kiss. Instead, Patrick helped her down too, making sure she was steady on her legs. She laughed at something his son said before following her sisters to the plane.

She’d wrapped her silky, black hair into a messy bun. Some of the long strands had escaped, draping around her shoulders and chest. She probably put it up for the long flight.

Rowan wore a yellow and white striped summer dress. It had small straps and a full skirt. She reminded him of a vibrant painting come to life. Canvas to blood and bone.

Yellow made her happy. It made him happy seeing her wear it. He wished the yellow diamond ring wasn’t in his bag but on her finger already. He really wished she’d look at him.

She stopped halfway to the plane and turned, searching the lot. For him? Their eyes met and held before she turned back. How in the hell could he fix this?

Raven and River turned at the jet’s stairs, waiting for their sister. They were clearly looking at him, and they weren’t happy. Jesus, he’d swear they were mind readers. He watched helplessly as Raven took one hand while River the other and walked up the stairs hand in hand.

“Jesus, Dad, what did you do now?” Bran swore behind him.

“When one of them is upset, they’re all upset, and I was hoping to talk River into joining the Mile High club this trip,” Patrick joked. “She’ll hover over Row and ignore me now,” he sighed, slapping his dad’s shoulder.

“Seriously, let me help you help yourself,” Bran added.

“Fuck you both,” Hugh groused. “Stay out of my business,” he warned. Used to their father’s bad attitude, they only shrugged.

“I’ll stay out of it as long as it doesn’t affect my wife,” Patrick doubled down.

“Agreed,” seconded Bran.

Traitors. Hugh’s face was burning. Christ, he was unprepared for this level of…sharing…intrusiveness. He was getting more embarrassed and more furious by the moment. He looked like an old fool chasing a woman way too young for him, which was exactly what he was.

He refused to put up with this bullshit. He was a private man. An older, private man. He didn’t respond. He only stared at them both. His expression must have conveyed his immense displeasure. The boys picked up the remaining suitcases.

“Sorry,” Bran looked so abashed that Hugh almost let him off the hook. Almost.

“Understood, Dad,” Patrick added solemnly.

The girls must have pickedup on the tension between him and the boys. The first couple of hours were uncomfortable, to say the least. Rowan hadn’t looked at him after her initial look of disappointment. When her eyes got glassy, he would have gladly allowed himself to be tossed from the plane.

He could now say he knew what spiraling looked like. He was making one bad decision after another.

Everyone had taken turns entertaining Daniel, which thankfully meant his sons weren’t casting leery looks his way, and the Byrne sisters weren’t casting him metaphorical middle fingers.

Raven just put Daniel down for a nap in the bed that was set behind a partition in the back. She was back and Bre was going to lay down with the sleeping baby, claiming she was just as tired as he was. She was probably tired of the tension in the cabin. He sure as hell was.

The sisters sat opposite him and his boys. Raven and River sitting on either side of Rowan. He noticed they touched her leg or hand or arm often. Losing their little sister for a week, not knowing if she was okay or suffering had taken a toll, and they probably needed the continued reassurance of contact.

Once Raven was back, talk turned to Saoirse Kennedy and Timothy Daniels’ wedding.

“I get that Americans are the only ones who celebrate Thanksgiving, but come on, I can’t believe Saoirse picked that weekend to get married!” River complained.

“Well,” Rowan countered, “just think, everyone from our side will already be in Dublin, including Jo. It’s kind of perfect timing, really. I plan on talking Katy into going. She’d love a good Irish wedding.”

Raven was nodding her agreement. “I wonder if William will be joining his family,” she mused. “But consider the wedding date like this. Thanksgiving is on Thursday, so there will be a ton of extra hands available to help with the wedding setup. Tilly and Nan will be on hand to help with Daniel and your little one, Riv. We’ll have all day Friday and Saturday morning to finalize. Friday night’s rehearsal is going to be very casual. Finger foods only.”

“That’s true,” River grudgingly admitted. “It just seems un-American to plan an event on a holiday.”

“She’s Irish, sooooo,” Rowan bumped her sister teasingly. “I’m stoked she chose Murphy’s. Tim wanted something lowkey and fun for everyone. Saoirse must have paid the Murphy brothers an ungodly amount of money to close the bar to the public for two days.”

“Nah,” Raven corrected. “Saoirse, Cormac, and Ciaran have known each other since primary school. It was their wedding present.”

Rowan looked surprised. “That was incredibly kind.”

Hugh gritted his teeth. He fucking hated Ciaran Murphy. That man wanted Rowan and made no effort to hide the fact. He’d shoved his flirtatious bullshit in Hugh’s face on more than one occasion. He’d considered, several times, if he were honest, ruining the Murphys financially.

Whether it meant buying up the real estate surrounding the bar or screwing with their suppliers. He’d lain in bed many a night contemplating taking them down. The only thing that stayed his hand was the fact that if Rowan ever found out, she’d never forgive him. He still fantasized about their downfall. He was yanked out of his contemplations when Raven spoke.

“River already got the invitations out two months ago, so we’re good there. RSVPs have been coming in steadily. The cut-off date for responding is six weeks before, with plenty of time to adjust the headcount for food and seating.

“As River will be needing to take it easy in another few weeks, her tasks will be confirming hotel rooms for out-of-town guests, scheduling pictures, and” Raven smirked at River, “since she’s pregnant and starving 24/7, she gets to join Saoirse and Tim at the cake tasting. We already reserved the bakery, but the flavors have got to be finalized.”

“No fair,” Rowan frowned teasingly at her sister, “I wish I was pregnant. I love cake!”

Everyone laughed—Hugh broke out in a cold sweat. He’d avoided that discussion with Rowan so far. He hoped to avoid it a while longer.

Patrick stood and plucked River out of her chair and sat back down, settling his wife in his lap. She was laughing until his son kissed her into silence. Hugh quickly looked away. Voyeurism held no appeal, especially when it was family. What would his sons think if he took Rowan into his lap and kissed her for an indecently long time in front of them?

Probably clap.

He caught Rowan looking at him, a wistful look gracing her delicate features. Damn. He didn’t want her to be disappointed she chose him. Her earlier text aside, she had chosen him, and she would never change her mind. His brain understood that. His self-consciousness was a ‘him problem.’

He tried to convey his regret and remorse, but she turned away, adjusting the dividers between her and Raven’s chairs now that River had moved. She twisted sideways, propping her head on the side of her chair and swinging her feet into her sister’s lap.

“Okay, Rave, give me my marching orders,” she laughed as she placed her tiny feet on Raven’s thighs.

Hugh watched Raven flinch as her hands touched the red crisscrosses covering Rowan’s lower legs. He saw tears gather in Raven’s eyes before she glanced desperately at Bran. Rowan must have felt her sister tense up and tensed herself.

Thankfully, Hugh had raised extremely smart sons. Patrick started to discuss the Mile High club and all the benefits it came with to River in a mock whisper.

“Jesus, Pat. River’s pregnant. We all get it—your dick works,” Bran joked. “So, babe,” he turned to Raven, “you’re working with Cormac on table arranging and turning the band stage into a temporary wedding sanctuary. I assume you’re working with Riv’s ex because Patrick won’t let her near Cormac.”

“We never dated, you douche canoe,” River snarked.

“My wife doesn’t need to work with a man who used to look at her like she was a…woman,” Patrick ended on a wheeze when his wife elbowed his stomach.

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten, Mr. Mile High, but I am a woman,” River shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Raven is taking that job because it will require dragging those heavy-ass wooden tables around, and Raven is super anal about ‘room flow,’” she air quoted the last, smiling at her sister.

Raven was smiling again, gently rubbing Rowan’s legs. Her tears were gone, which he supposed was the whole point of the current ridiculous conversation. He was even amused by the kids’ bullshit until Raven told Rowan her part in the wedding.

“Row, you and Ciaran are responsible for the rehearsal and wedding menus. Saoirse has given you two free reign. You’ll need to find out how many menu items Ciaran and his staff can easily handle for whatever the guest tally ends up being.”

Hugh saw red. Fucking red. He stiffened, straightened in his chair, and looked at Rowan, mentally imploring her to turn and look at him. She had to know he wouldn’t want her anywhere that close to Murphy—that she shouldn’t even be speaking to the son of a bitch.

From his peripheral, he saw both Patrick and Bran look his way. Nervous about his reaction. They knew he’d be furious, and better than that, they would both understand it. No good would come of him voicing his opinion now. Though Hugh reasoned, Rowan’s sisters didn’t seem to mind when their husbands voiced their opinions. Still, after his idiocy at the rehabilitation center and her texts on the way here, he didn’t think it was the right time.

She would tell Raven no. Surely.

“Sounds great, Rave.”

Thirty minutesof uncomfortable silence later, Bran asked Raven to move by him, sharing his seat, and suggested they rest their eyes while their son slept. Rowan sat up and stretched, studiously avoiding eye contact with Hugh.

She could feel his eyes watching her as she excused herself to the bathroom, thankfully, roomy and beautifully appointed—the exact opposite of the gross, smelly cramped affairs on commercial planes. She was definitely becoming spoiled.

She knew he watched her walk from the main cabin. He hadn’t liked them discussing the Murphy brothers. He really didn’t like finding out Raven had assigned her to work with Ciaran directly on the menu. She might have listened to his thoughts on the matter if they were openly dating. If he was going to go back on his word, then she wouldn’t take his feelings into consideration.

She’d allowed him to get by with way too much in the past. She was done trying to soothe his ruffled feathers.

She needed to soothe him, though. Damn, his stubborn ass! She desperately wanted to sit next to him and at least hold his hand. She wasn’t going to push him any further than she had already, but she wasn’t going to let him get by with hiding how he felt about her for much longer.

She didn’t really have to pee. She just needed a moment away from Hugh’s aggressive silence. After locking herself in, she stood looking in the mirror. Sighing, she pulled the scrunchie from her hair, the messy bun tumbled down her back and shoulders. She used her fingers to massage her scalp, blowing out a frustrated breath. Hugh made her crazy. He’d always driven her half mad with his broody looks and silence.

He could be as antisocial as he pleased as long as he was hers. She thought he knew that. With a defeated sigh, she put her hair back in a messy bun and unlocked the door, only to have the panel pushed in and the man of her turbulent thoughts standing there with his hand fisting the handle, blocking her exit.

He crowded her until she moved back enough for him to enter and close the door behind him. When he turned the lock, her pulse started to race. She knew he had to be furious that she’d agreed to work with Ciaran Murphy, knowing they’d had a mild flirtation. He didn’t know that the two had kissed one evening when Hugh had infuriated her. She would have told Raven to switch jobs with her. After all, if Hugh wanted to work closely with a woman that he had flirted with or kissed…no way.

She walked back to the marble countertop attached to the wall next to the sink and leaned her back against it. Crossing her arms over her chest, she watched as Hugh followed and stood before her. She thought she’d seen all of his severe looks. Apparently, not. If he was attempting to intimidate, it was working—if intimidation felt like a giant turn-on.

He crossed his arms over his chest, matching her stance. He was pissed, well, so was she.

“I don’t want space. I am ready to be with you. I am all in.”

No beating about the bush…good. “It hurts me when you treat me like you do my sisters. It kills me that you want to pretend we are nothing more than relatives when we’re with our relatives! Everyone out there,” she jabbed her finger at the door, “knows we’ve had sex, Hugh! They know I love you, and you love me. You do understand that, don’t you?”

His jaw was clenched as he released his arms to hang stiffly at his sides.

“I do know that, yes,” he admitted.

He looked so pained at the admission that she wanted so badly to wrap her arms around his waist and reassure him, but they needed to get this monster between them dragged out of the closet.

“You don’t have to joke and laugh with everyone. You don’t have to say silly things like Bran and Patrick do just to make us roll our eyes. You don’t have to smile when my sisters and I are goofy or groan when we tell each other private things. You only have to love me. Hold my hand. Claim me as yours.”

She felt tears pooling in her eyes and desperately tried to blink them back.

Hugh’s chin dropped to his chest, a deep sigh escaping his mouth. He looked as miserable as she felt. When he straightened, he stepped close enough to grasp her waist and sit her on the tall counter.

She couldn’t help but spread her legs wide enough for him to step between them. She kept her hands firmly on the cold marble, careful of her left. Nurse Becky had taken the larger wrap off that morning, allowing her to wear bandages over the deepest wounds. It was healing quickly with no infection.

She wanted to place her hands on his chest or around the back of his neck so she could pull him to her mouth. It was a distraction they didn’t need. Yet.

“I’m just…I’m an idiot who needs more time to adjust to this new version of us. I need grace, Row. Forgive me when I fuck up. Love me anyway,” he begged, his voice low and raspy with emotion.

“I would never not love you. You just…I don’t expect…geez, I mean, you never need to change yourself for me. You can frown and growl all day long, but when you walk by, whether it’s when we’re alone or in a crowded room, you better stop to at least kiss my cheek.”

She finally let herself touch him, placing her hands carefully against his neck, her thumbs tracing his strong jaw. “I want everyone to know I’m your girlfriend. Tell me I’m not asking for too much. Tell me you understand.”

He covered her right hand with his own, leaning down to kiss her lips. Once. Twice. Three times.

“You aren’t asking too much. You aren’t asking nearly enough. I swear,” he closed his eyes and rested their foreheads together, “that I am devoted…completely to you. You have my promise to be better.”

Their mouths fused once more. This time, the kiss was free of reserve. It was tongues and teeth, moans, and biting. She felt him hot and hard between her thighs and wrapped her legs around his waist to trap them together, whimpering at the delicious friction their bodies made when they ground against one another.

She broke the kiss and breathlessly reiterated, “Just so we’re straight, I won’t let your lapses of supposed indifference faze me because I know you love me, and you’ll remind yourself that the age difference is a you problem. A problem I don’t share, and you’ll endeavor to get over it. Sound right?”

“Correct,” he agreed right before taking her mouth again.

“In accordance, you will make an effort to show everyone that I’m yours. Yes?”

“I will,” he growled before taking her mouth again.

“We have a few more minutes before they send out a search party,” she panted between Hugh’s tongue working hers over. He got the message and pulled her sundress over her head, his eyes widening at her bare breasts, then widening further at her sheer, pale yellow panties.

“Christ,” Hugh moaned. “Had I known what you had under your dress, my dick would have been hard before we boarded the plane.”

“I have warned you to expect it.” Her grin turned into a moan when he ran his fingers over the silk between her legs before stepping back so he could pull the panties from her body.

“Always so wet for me, baby. I wish we had more time,” his deep voice rumbled, eyes never straying from her center.

He stepped back between her legs, his jean-clad bulge pressing firmly against her heat, pulling a moan from them both. Then they were frantically kissing, and he was trying to unzip his pants. Finally, his body was free. “Yes,” Rowan whispered as her hand found his length, stroking him between their bodies.

He told her to hold on as he scooped her off the counter. Her back landed against a small space of wall that was free of counters or mirrors. He was frantic, using the wall for support and his hands to grip her ass, steadying her as he moved between her legs, sliding his hardness through her wetness.

“I hate when you’re upset with me. It makes me crazy,” he admitted between biting and licking her neck.

Rowan ran her hands over his broad back, digging her fingers deep in the grooves of flesh and muscle. “You make me crazy, babe. Please, don’t make me wait,” she begged, wanting him inside her desperately.

Their relationship was old and new. It felt unbreakable and fragile at the same time. The two of them had been through a lot of emotional upheaval together. After even a few hours of not being in sync, she badly needed the closeness.

“Oh shit, the condoms are packed. Christ, no,” he groaned.

Hugh paused mid-grind, a look of intense pain on his face. She felt the loss of movement like forced paralysis. They needed to move, to continue on their journey to euphoria, but…birth control...

“Pull out,” Rowan hissed. A breath rushed out of his lungs in relief at the solution.

He lined up with her passage before slowly breaching her depths. The fullness always drew a moan of pleasure from her throat.

“Fuck, baby…so tight,” his fingers clenched her ass tight, holding her perfectly to take his deep thrusts. “Your body’s going to strangle me until I come.”

Hugh O’Faolain may not embrace a demonstrative lifestyle, but the man had his moments. He took one of his hands from her ass to pinch her nipples as he deepened their kiss. She wanted to beg him to go harder and faster, but the steady pace, the measured in and out motion, had her body quaking and chasing release.

“I’m close, baby,” he panted against her mouth before reaching between their bodies and pinching the sensitive bundle of nerves at her apex.

“God, yes! Right there!” She had to bite her lip to stop a scream from escaping when her orgasm hit. The intensity bowed her back and had her clenching her knees around his hips.

“Want to feel you tighten around me,” he growled, “just…for…ahh,” he growled when he pulled out and pumped his seed on her stomach.

Rowan wrapped her hands around his neck to lean forward and kiss her lover tenderly. They were both breathless and satisfied.

“That was close,” he admitted. “I almost didn’t pull out in time. You felt too good.”

He looked at her with a solemn expression as he set her gently on her feet. He grabbed a couple of hand towels out of the stationary basket by the sink. Wetting them before cleaning her up first and then himself.

His shaft was beginning to soften—the process fascinated her. Everything about him fascinated her, but his sex, yeah...

“If you keep looking at it like that, we’re never going to leave this bathroom.”

His teasing tone, combined with his serious expression, made her stomach flutter. She sighed, knowing they needed to get dressed and rejoin the family. “Fine,” she conceded, retrieving her dress and panties and dressing.

Before he unlocked the door, he bent down to kiss her one more time, his thumb running over the reddened marks along the crook of her neck where he’d lightly sucked and bitten.

She’d seen the red marks in the mirror while fixing her hair and took the scrunchie out again. Leaving it down seemed to be the best course of action. She didn’t want her sisters to tease Hugh about them.

“I can’t wait for you to be back on birth control,” he confessed. “It was too close this time.”

She stiffened at his words. After their talk about children, or her talk rather, since he hadn’t added any of his own thoughts on the subject, he was clearly letting her know he didn’t want to take chances again like they’d just done.

“You do remember you came inside me our first night together, right?” His eyes widened in shock and fear.

“We used condoms,” he denied.

“Not that one time in the middle of the night when you woke me up by slipping into me from behind.” His normally golden skin tone paled. “When I got up that morning, I felt it between my legs,” she finished steadily. Annoyed.

“I’m sorry. I…this…there’s no excuse for being that reckless.”

He was obviously beating himself up, which she had no intention of allowing to continue. “We both have responsibility for what happens in our bed, babe. Stop acting like you forced me to have sex without protection. It was only once. Don’t worry.”

“Did they do blood work at the hospital?”

“They did, but even blood tests usually require the woman to be pregnant for at least a week to show up positive. Seriously, it was once. Let it go. I’m not going to try to get pregnant when you clearly don’t want me to be.”

When his shoulders stiffened, and he didn’t offer any rebuttal, she sighed and unlocked the door herself before walking forward to the cabin. She sat opposite her sisters and their…doting husbands. She squeezed her eyes tight, refusing to allow herself to feel anything but pure joy for her sisters.

The brooding man at her back may not be everyone’s ideal boyfriend, but he sure as hell was hers, and she was willing to give him grace as he’d asked for and trust that they’d eventually find themselves in a mutually satisfying relationship.