29. Genevieve
29
GENEVIEVE
I feel like I’m in a dream—like I’ve left my body and I’m somewhere else entirely now. Outside, I can still hear the thunder, the rain pelting against the windows, the cabin occasionally shuddering with the force of the storm. But in here, there’s just Rowan and me, and this moment where I’ve finally lost the battle with myself and him.
Something about the way he kissed me—the hunger in it, the need —broke something in me that I’ve been using as a shield all this time. Maybe it will end after this—our agreement is still the same, the contract that we signed hasn’t changed. Nothing has changed, and yet, with his hands sliding over my body, all over me as he makes me come harder than I ever have in my entire fucking life, it feels like everything has changed.
I arch underneath him, shuddering, crying out as waves of pleasure roll through me, pulling me under like a tide. I’ve never felt anything like it, and I give in to it—to the feeling of his hot tongue still sliding against my throbbing flesh, his hand pressed against my thigh, his fingers curled inside of me, still stroking, urging on those waves of pleasure that are breaking in smaller, shorter crests now.
He looks up, his mouth glistening, and his eyes are dark, pupils blown with lust. He slides up my body, hovering over me, and there’s no question of rules or arrangements or anything else other than how much we both want each other now.
I feel his cock brush against my stomach, hot and straining and impossibly hard. Rowan reaches between us, his hand wrapping around his shaft as he angles himself between my legs, dragging the swollen head between my folds. It nudges up against my clit and I gasp, my thighs spreading wider for him as pleasure arcs through me.
His gaze meets mine, an unspoken question in it. I’m already pregnant—anything we do now is outside the boundaries of what we agreed on. His cock notches against my entrance, pressing, and he holds himself there, chest heaving and eyes full of aching lust as he looks down at me.
I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and pull his mouth down to mine.
Rowan groans into the kiss, his hips snapping forward as he buries himself inside of me. My legs go around his hips, my back arching as I meet his thrust, tasting myself on his lips as he devours me in a deep, searing kiss. We’re pressed together, skin to skin, my breasts rubbing against his hard chest with every thrust as he sinks into me again and again, desperate for more… desperate for me .
“Rowan—” I breathe his name into the kiss, moaning as he sinks into me again, hard and deep. He reaches down, sliding one arm around my waist, and lifts me up as he rises up onto his knees, pulling me into his lap as he keeps thrusting up into me without ever missing a beat.
“Genevieve.” He murmurs my name in a hoarse whisper, his hand tangling in my hair, cupping the back of my head as he kisses me again. I hear another crack of lightning splitting the sky, the room briefly illuminated and then dimming again, and all I see in his face is pained desire, mixed with a relief that I understand.
I feel it too. I’ve been fighting against this for so long, and I can’t even remember why. Because I thought it would be too painful to lose it, once I knew what it felt like? Maybe that’s true, but in this moment, I can’t imagine living the rest of my life without knowing that this existed at all.
Nothing— no one —has ever felt like this.
Rowan’s other hand slides down my spine, his palm pressing to my lower back as I rock against him, grinding into him as my pleasure builds. He thrusts shallowly, drawing it out, but I can tell from his ragged breaths and the tension in his body that he’s not going to last long.
“Come with me,” I breathe against his mouth, my arms winding around his neck, fingers in his hair. “Come with me, Rowan.”
He presses his forehead against mine, his mouth slanting over mine again as I arch into him, and the moment that I feel my second climax start to crest, he stiffens, his fingers curling around my hip as he drags me down hard onto his cock.
“ Fuck, taibhseach—” He moans against my lips, crushing me to him as I feel him stiffen and throb inside of me, heat filling me as I arch and shudder against him, pleasure washing over me in tandem with his.
Rowan holds me against him as the last aftershocks ripple through us both, falling back against the edge of the couch as he holds me in his lap, his cock still buried inside of me. He brushes his lips against my cheek, his nose brushing against my hair, and neither of us speaks.
“Are you cold?” he asks finally, brushing my wet hair away from my face, and I laugh softly, looking up at him.
“Right now, I don’t think I can remember what it feels like to be cold.”
“Good.” Rowan kisses me again, long and slow, and slowly stands with me still wrapped around him, grabbing one of the blankets as he does. He carries me all the way to the bed, spilling us both back onto it as he drags the blanket over us, cocooning us both in it.
“We’ll just stay like this until the storm passes,” he murmurs, kissing me again. “I’m sure we can find some way to spend the time.”
He’s already hard again, pressed eagerly against my thigh. I laugh softly, brushing my lips against his as I reach down, trailing my fingers up the stiff length.
Rowan jerks, his hips thrusting into my hand as his eyes flicker shut. “Ah, lass—” he groans, his breath catching. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you to do that.”
I bite my lip. We’ve already gone this far. There’s no point in pretending that I don’t want the rest of it—that I don’t want everything. We can figure out what that means later. We won’t be figuring it out here, trapped in this cabin in the middle of a storm.
“What else have you wanted me to do?” I ask softly, and Rowan’s gaze drops to my mouth.
A small smile curves the edges of my lips, and I lean forward, kissing him again before sliding lower. I graze my fingers over the ridges of his abs as I brush my mouth over the hard muscle of his chest, slowly making my way down by inches as Rowan groans and runs his fingers through my wet hair.
“Oh fuck—Genevieve—” He moans as I nudge him over onto his back, pushing the blanket off of us both as I lean over him, wrapping my hand around his hard length.
His entire body shudders when I brush my lips against his tip for the first time, flicking my tongue out to taste the salty pre-cum pearling there. His fingers tighten in my hair, and he groans, holding himself still as I wrap my lips around him and take the first inch into my mouth.
“Oh, god.” Rowan’s head falls back against the pillows. “Fuck, that’s fucking everything I imagined— fuck —” He moans again as I tighten my mouth around him, sliding another inch down, and another, adjusting to having the thick length of him in my mouth. “Oh god, your mouth is almost as good as your perfect fucking pussy, taibhseach .”
I can feel him struggling to hold himself still, to not thrust into my mouth. I work my way down inch by inch until he’s pushing against the back of my throat, my hand wrapped around the portion of his length that I can’t fit into my mouth. Slowly, I rub my tongue over the straining flesh, swirling it around the tip, and I feel him throb against my tongue.
“Fuck—” Rowan groans, his fingers pressing against the back of my neck. “I’ve wanted this for too fucking long, taibhseach . I’m not going to last?—”
I flick my gaze up to his, savoring the look in his eyes—the need and the aching desire that I see there. I press my lips against him, sucking harder as I swirl my tongue over and around him, and I feel the clutch of his hand against the back of my head as all of his muscles go tense and I feel him lose control.
The hot pulse of his cum flows over my tongue, hot against the back of my throat as he fills my mouth. He moans my name brokenly, shuddering as his fingers twine in my hair, throb after throb of heat arcing over my tongue until he finally sags against the bed, and I swallow convulsively around his cock before lifting my head.
Rowan’s eyes are closed, his chest heaving as he presses his other hand against it. “You’ll be the death of me, lass,” he breathes, a smirk on his lips even as he tries to catch his breath. “And I’ll die happy.”
My chest tightens at that, and, inexplicably, I find myself suddenly blinking back tears. I shake my head, fighting them off, and slide up the bed to join him. He pulls me into his arms, against his hard chest, and the memory comes back of the first time he picked me up and held me like this.
For all that I didn’t want to admit it then, I felt safe. I felt comforted. And I felt something, even then, that I’m still afraid to let myself feel.
There’s no question that things have changed for us. It can’t be the same, not after this—but the question is how ?
I lay my head against his shoulder as Rowan runs his fingers through my hair, and I wonder if he’ll have regrets when the storm has cleared and we both come to our senses.
“I’m not going to wish we’d done things differently, lass,” he murmurs, and I look up, startled.
“How did you?—”
“I can feel you thinking, milseán. The wheels in your head are turning loud enough to wake the dead.” His hand smooths over my hair again. “I’ve wanted this since the moment I met you, Genevieve. I asked you to be my wife because I felt like I couldn’t live another day unless you were mine in some way.”
He shifts, moving so that he can meet my eyes. “I thought maybe—bloody hell.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what I thought. Just that I wanted you. I needed you, and I knew we could help each other. I suppose I thought it would take longer to knock you up, lass.” He chuckles drily. “And that maybe things would change, before then.”
“I think they have,” I say softly, biting my lip.
Rowan nods, brushing his fingers against my temple. “They changed for me a while ago. I never thought I was the type to be a one-woman man, but the longer I’ve known you, Genevieve…the longer I’ve come to see you for the stubborn, infuriating, beautiful, driven, brilliant, funny woman that you are…the more I know that there’s no woman in the world that could ever satisfy me now that I’ve known what it’s like to be with you.”
I stare at him, stunned. It takes a moment for what he’s saying to sink in—both what he’s actually saying and the words underneath it, the ones still unsaid. I can feel similar words on the tip of my tongue, ones that I’ve been thinking for a while now, that I want to say.
But something holds me back. That fear that I’ll make a mistake, that I’ve misjudged the situation—that right now, what I’m feeling is just a combination of hormones and the fact that I’m wrapped up in the arms of the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, in the middle of a storm after just having the best sex of my life.
“I feel something for you, too,” I admit, and I see his smile fade slightly. “I just…I need time.”
“Aye, lass.” He leans in, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “We have time.”
—
When we wake up the next morning, the storm has cleared. The sky is bright and sunny once more, the fire in the fireplace dimmed to embers, and our clothes dried out in front of it. The moment we both wake up, Rowan rolls me onto my back, his knee already nudging my thighs apart as he kisses me, filling me in one swift thrust that leaves me gasping.
It’s another two hours before we’re dressed and leaving. We eat some of the leftover fruit from the picnic lunch the day before for a quick breakfast, and then head out to where the boat is, thankfully, still tied up and unharmed.
We’re both quiet on the trip back. I’m nervous, trying not to look at the water or the sky or anything other than the beach that isn’t approaching rapidly enough, and I can’t think of anything to say. Rowan’s confession is still at the forefront of my mind, coupled with the look on his face when I couldn’t quite say it back—and everything else that we did yesterday.
I was right about one thing. Now that I’ve experienced what it’s like to let myself enjoy being in bed with Rowan, I feel like I’ve unleashed something inside of myself that might not ever be able to be satisfied. I can’t imagine anything else ever being as good as it is with him, and even as we step out of the boat and onto the beach, all I want is to feel his mouth on mine again, his…everything.
We head back to the car, which unfortunately has a parking ticket crammed beneath the windshield wiper. Rowan shrugs, pocketing it. “I’ll take care of it,” he says, seeing my expression. “It’s no big deal. I expected it when we got stuck on the island overnight. And,” he adds, reaching out to touch my cheek, “I wouldn’t change it. I’d rather pay a fine and have had the night with you that we just did, than save a hundred euros and miss out on that.”
My cheeks flush slightly, and I manage a smile. The truth is—I feel the same way. But I’m terrified to show it. To take that one, final step, and suggest that maybe we should rethink the agreement we had. That maybe we should try.
Rowan keeps up small talk on the ride back, pointing out bits of scenery or the ever-present sheep, but I have a hard time responding. My thoughts feel tangled, as do my emotions, and I don’t know what to say or do. Added to that is the worry of what’s happening back in New York, and the question of when we’ll be able to go back, and I can’t begin to think of what our next step is when it comes to something as confusing as our current relationship.
When we pull up in front of the house, Rowan comes around to open my door as always. When I step out, he doesn’t immediately move back, and my gaze flicks up to meet his, my breath suddenly catching in my throat.
“Rowan—”
“I can’t go a minute without thinking about kissing you, lass,” he murmurs, stepping closer as he reaches up to touch my cheek. “Every moment that passes, I want to be touching you. It’s been hell, waiting for those few days when I could have you whenever I wanted. And now that you’re letting me touch you like this—” He breathes in, slowly, his gaze sliding over my face. “Now I want to have you right here, and fuck who might see us.”
He leans in before I can say a word, his mouth crushing against mine, his hand tangling in my hair. His fingers curl against the back of my neck, and desire jolts sharply through me, cutting through everything else as my mouth opens under his.
“We can’t—” I manage, and Rowan shakes his head, his lips still brushing mine.
“No. We can’t. Not until I get you behind a proper closed door, at least. But I can kiss you for a little while, aye?”
There’s no argument that I can think of to make against that. My eyes flutter closed, my senses consumed by the warmth of his mouth against mine, the salty-sweet taste of his lips, the hard muscles of his body as he leans into me. My hands slide up his back, feeling the play of muscle there, savoring the feeling of him so close to me—of letting myself enjoy it without fighting.
And then I hear a strange click, and an all-too-familiar voice, coming from somewhere behind Rowan.
“Stop touching her, you Irish piece of shit, unless you want a bullet in the head.”