Chapter 7 #2
The siren screams past our building, so close that the windows rattle in their frames.
Lena doesn’t even blink, continuing to butter her toast while discussing an upcoming school project. The contrast strikes me anew, how my sister normalizes danger, learning to filter threats based on proximity and immediacy. I’ve failed to protect so much of her childhood.
Rowan’s attention stays on the window until the sound fades before his focus shifts to Lena, taking in her non-reaction.
“Is that normal here?” he asks, his tone casual while his body tenses.
“Yeah,” I answer without thinking. “There are a lot of domestic calls.”
His eyebrow twitches, but he doesn’t comment.
Lena pushes back from the table. “I need to shower. I’m going to meet some friends for a virtual study group during lunch hour, so I’ll be locked up in my room for a while.” She gives me a significant look. “With my headphones on.”
Blood creeps up my neck and burns in my cheeks.
Giggling, she carries her plate to the sink and rinses it with quick efficiency. “Thanks for breakfast, Rowan. You should come over more often. Ash never cooks like this.”
My teeth grind together at her easy acceptance of this stranger in our space. “Lena—”
“Fifteen minutes,” she calls over her shoulder, already heading down the hallway. “Then you can run the dishwasher if you want.”
The sound of her door closing drifts out, followed by the water pipes groaning as the shower starts, the ancient plumbing protesting as it always does.
In one fluid movement, I cross to the sink and grab the knife I left to dry last night, the serrated edge good for cutting through meat with minimal resistance. The weight settles in my palm as I turn toward Rowan, who remains relaxed, arms loose at his sides.
“What’s your play here?” I advance a step. “Is this blackmail?”
His mouth tightens with the first sign of genuine irritation. “Do you think so little of me?”
“I don’t know you,” I spit back.
“Come now, precious, I think we got to know each other pretty well last night.” Rowan stands, his height forcing me to tilt my chin up to maintain eye contact. “Didn’t we agree to go home together? But you got a little lost along the way, so I came to make sure you were all right.”
“How considerate.” The word drips with sarcasm. “And breaking into my apartment while I slept? Was that concern, too? Did you fuck with my alarm as well?”
“You were exhausted.” His tongue skims over his bottom lip. “Would you rather I had woken you up by crawling into your bed?”
Water continues to run in the bathroom, the pipes knocking in the walls. I have maybe ten more minutes before Lena finishes.
“I’m fine. Lena’s fine. We don’t need your help or your concern.” I tilt the knife for emphasis, letting light glint off the blade. “So you need to leave. Now.”
“And if I don’t?”
“This isn’t a negotiation.” My fingers tighten around the handle. “You’re not welcome here.”
Rowan studies me for a long moment. “You don’t mean that.”
“I don’t care what you think I mean.” The tip of the knife trembles. “Leave, and don’t come back.”
Rowan steps forward, closing the distance between us until the knife point indents his shirt, but he doesn’t flinch.
His eyes hold mine, the challenge burning in them sending heat cascading through my body despite my anger. One slight movement, one twitch of my hand, and the blade would pierce his skin.
“Go ahead,” he whispers, the warmth of his breath washing over my cheek. “If you’re going to threaten me, follow through.”
My fingers tighten on the handle, knuckles bleaching white. I could do it. I’ve already killed. But the trembling blade betrays the war between my brain and my body.
With a curse, I spin away, flinging the knife into the sink where it clatters loud enough to make me wince, and I freeze, listening for any sign Lena heard, but the shower keeps running, covering the sound of our confrontation.
“Next time you draw a knife on me,” Rowan says in an Alpha rumble that vibrates through my bones, “you better plan to use it.”
Before I can respond, he seizes the back of my neck, fingers digging into my hairline as he yanks me forward. His mouth crashes onto mine, teeth catching my bottom lip in a bite that borders on painful.
The contact short-circuits my brain, anger colliding with desire in an explosion that wipes out reason. I should push him away. I should grab the knife again. I should do anything except open my mouth to him, a desperate sound scraping my throat raw.
His tongue invades, claiming territory, carrying traces of coffee and mint and male heat that flood my senses. His hand slides from my neck to my bare back, palm flat between my shoulder blades as he pulls me flush against his body.
“I hate you,” I breathe into his mouth as I fist his shirt, dragging him closer.
Rowan laughs, the sound dark with the same desire that fills me. “No, you don’t. You hate how much you want me.”
His grip on my hips tightens, lifting me off my feet in one powerful motion. My back hits the counter, and he slots his hips between my legs as if he’s made to be there.
We don’t make it to a bedroom. We don’t even make it out of the kitchen.
His hands yank free the drawstring of my sweatpants while I tear at his belt, our mouths never separating as we fight for access to each other’s bodies. My hips buck upward when his fingers find me already hard, already leaking for him.
“Fuck,” he hisses when he discovers I’m not wearing underwear. “Were you planning this?”
“Shut up,” I command, yanking his jeans open with enough force to send the button flying across the kitchen, pinging off the refrigerator. “Just shut up.”
I grip his shoulders, nails digging in through his shirt as he yanks my sweatpants down.
When he wraps those thick fingers around my dick, I slap my own palm over my mouth, catching my moan before it escapes. The cold kitchen air pebbles my exposed skin while heat blazes everywhere he touches.
“Fuck, precious, one of these days, you’ll let me hear those sweet moans,” he breathes into my ear, teeth grazing the shell with deliberate slowness. “I’ll let you muffle them this time, though. Don’t want your sister to wonder what we’re doing out here.”
The mention of Lena should douse my desire like ice water. Instead, it sends a fresh pulse of heat through my veins, the forbidden nature of what we’re doing adding a dangerous edge that heightens every sensation.
Rowan lifts me higher onto the counter as he fits his big body between my legs. My sweatpants hang from one ankle, the fabric bunched and twisted, my dick pinned between our heated bodies.
His hands slide beneath my thighs, fingers digging into muscle with bruising force as he positions me. The grip spreads me wider, leaves marks I’ll feel for days, reminders I’ll trace when I’m alone.
The sound of the shower continues in the background, water pipes creaking in the walls. We have minutes, maybe less, before Lena finishes.
Rowan’s fingers slide between my legs, coming away glistening wet. He brings them to his nose, inhaling as his pupils dilate until his eyes are almost black. A low growl vibrates through his chest.
“Already so wet for me,” he murmurs with Alpha satisfaction. “Let me give your body what it needs.”
My cheeks burn, shame and arousal warring as slick continues to leak from me, betraying my body’s eagerness despite my mind’s resistance. My arousal fills the small kitchen with sweet, heavy pheromones.
His fingers return to my entrance, spreading the natural lubricant. The touch sends electricity up my spine, drawing a whimper I struggle to suppress.
My teeth sink into my lip as his slick finger circles my entrance, the muscle there tightening then yielding as he breaches me with none of the gentleness we should need after last night.
The burn radiates outward, a reminder of how he split me open on his cock only hours ago, yet my body betrays me, clenching around his finger, drawing him deeper, begging for the stretch and fullness only he can provide.
“So tight,” he murmurs, working a second finger in alongside the first. “We’re going to need to train this ass so it remembers my shape.”
The crude words send another jolt of heat up my spine. His fingers curl inside me, seeking and finding the spot that blurs my vision. A whimper builds in my throat, and I bite down harder on my lip to contain it.
The shower shuts off with a groan of pipes, and Rowan’s fingers pause inside me.
We both freeze as we listen to the sounds of Lena moving in the bathroom. Water drains. A towel pulls from the rack. The bathroom door opens and closes. Her footsteps pad down the hall to her bedroom.
“How good are her headphones?” Rowan asks, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with the blunt head of his cock.
“Shitty,” I tell him. “But they’re the best I could afford.”
“I’ll buy her better ones before next time.”
When I open my mouth to protest, his hand covers my lips, and he sinks into me with one brutal thrust that steals my breath and floods my body with a burning fullness I’ve never experienced with anyone else.
My nails carve half-moons into his shoulders as his hips snap forward, driving deeper with each thrust. The kitchen fills with the muted sounds of skin on skin, the quiet slap of his hips hitting the inside of my thighs and the slide of my weeping dick between us.
A moan claws up my throat, and Rowan’s fingers dig into my flesh hard enough to bruise as he fucks into me with no rhythm, no finesse, just raw desperation that matches the chaos inside me.
“That’s it,” he groans. “Take all of me.”
My heels dig into the small of his back, pulling him closer, deeper. Each thrust digs the counter into my tailbone, pain mixing with pleasure until I can’t separate them anymore.
With his free hand, Rowan grips my hip, fingers bruising as he holds me in place for his thrusts. The position changes the angle, and he hits the spot inside me again that paints sparks across my eyelids.
My teeth sink into the meat of his palm, tasting salt as I stifle another sound. The counter beneath me grows slick with sweat, my body sliding back and forth with each punishing thrust.
I’m close, so close, teetering on the edge as my balls pull up tight. Rowan senses it, his hand moving from my mouth to wrap around my dick, stroking in time with his thrusts.
“Hurry up and come for me, precious,” Rowan growls. “We don’t want your sister to walk in on us.”
“Make me, Alpha.”
With a growl of appreciation, he Commands, “Come for me. Now.”
My body obeys, pleasure crashing through me in waves that leave me shaking. Cum pumps onto my stomach as my muscles clamp down around him as he continues to pump into me.
Two more brutal thrusts and he follows, his teeth sinking into the curve where my neck meets my shoulder to muffle his groan as he pulses inside me.
For several heartbeats, we remain frozen, connected and panting, neither of us speaking as reality seeps back through the cracks in my consciousness.
What have I done?
My rules didn’t just bend. They shattered.
Never bring danger home.
Never let anyone close to Lena.
Never lose control.
Rowan’s forehead rests on mine, his breath mingling with my own. When he pulls out, the sudden emptiness jars me. Fluid trickles down my thighs, warm and sticky.
In the distance, music starts playing from Lena’s room, the bass vibrating through the thin walls. She kept her promise about headphones, oblivious to what happened in our kitchen.
Rowan’s lips trail along my jaw. “What do you say we move to your—”
I plant my foot against his chest and shove. “Get out.”
His jaw sets. “So that’s how it’s going to be?”
With unsteady hands, I grab a towel to wipe the mess from my skin and yank my sweats back into place. “This was a mistake.”
The rules existed for a reason.
To keep us safe.
To keep Lena protected.
And I’ve broken every single one of them.