Chapter 38
THIRTY-EIGHT
Rowan
Standing in front of the mirror in our room, I pull out my little book of manifestations and read aloud to myself.
“I am achieving my dreams,” I say, giving myself a nod. “I release my past and am ready to hold love. My thoughts are positive and uplifting.” I smile at the woman staring back at me, feeling proud of her for the first time in a very long time.
Colt’s warm body presses against my back as he snakes his arms around my waist and plants a kiss at the top of my head.
“Ready?”
“Yeah,” I tell him, picking up my water bottle and scanning over the message. ‘I am optimistic because today is a new day.’
Boy, is it ever.
There’s a nervous excitement buzzing through me as we step out of Colt’s car, together, and walk into the office, together. It’s a healthy kind of nervous, one that feels good, but I still fight off the urge to turn tail and run out of the building to make my own entrance a few minutes after him.
Shoving down the nerves to let excitement ride as the dominant emotion, I lace my fingers in his and straighten my spine, walking tall and confidently next to him as we stride into the office together.
One or two people in the main hallway look at us a little sideways, their faces twisting, but otherwise, no one has anything negative to say – at least not yet.
Nearing the desk toward the rear of the office, Mariah catches sight of us and looks at me, her eyebrows shooting up toward her hairline, and holds a firm thumbs up tight at her side, mouthing, ‘get it, girl.’ I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling like an idiot.
The friend count is firmly sitting at one point five – I can deal with that.
As we settle into Colt’s office, I drop my things like I always do, and shake out my nerves, shimming my arms out at my sides.
“Whoo!” I trill.
“You did great, baby,” Colt laughs and wraps his arms around me. He kisses my head then walks over to his desk and drops into his chair. “Now, would it be weird for me to—”
“Black, two shots, one sugar. I got it,” I finish his thought with a smile on my face.
I turn to leave the room and practically crash into Mr. Davis on my way out, but he catches me by the shoulders and holds me at a half arm’s length. “Whoa, where’s the fire?” He asks.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Davis. I didn’t hear you coming,” I tell him.
“What’s up?” Colt asks from his desk. “Any word from the team?”
“Yeah,” he says, guiding me just far enough out of the way to slide past me and enter the office. Turning to me, he says, “Sorry darlin’, gotta steal your guy for a while. Whatever he’s having, double it for me, alright?”
“Oh,” I stammer, a warm blush creeping over my cheeks. “Yeah, of course, Mr. Davis.”
He casually plops down into the chair opposite Colt with a laugh, and I’m not sure what kind of conversation silently passes between them, but Colt rolls his eyes in response to it.
I take my cue to leave the room and go pick up their coffee orders.
I bring them back as quickly as I can and slip quietly into the office to set their cups down in front of them. I try not to peek at the papers scattered over the desk, but I can’t help it – I’m nosy and interested in the business.
It looks like there’s a new development being talked about, but I can’t make out exactly what it is or will be. They’re looking at a crapload of cash, though.
Mr. Davis starts coughing as soon as he takes a drink from his cup and he sets it down on the desk, covering his mouth and shooting Colt a horrified look.
“How do you drink that shit, man?” He asks.
“I’m so sorry, I can get you something else,” I offer.
“He’s fine, Rowan,” Colt says. “He just has the tastebuds of an infant.”
I chortle, my hand flying to my mouth. “No, your coffee is terrible,” I tell him. “I tried a sip once and I thought my heart was gonna explode. And it tasted like acid.”
“Oh, I like her,” Mr. Davis laughs. He turns to me, saying, “Darlin’, you can just call me Davis. Ditch the ‘mister.’”
He reaches his hand out for me, and I take it, offering a firm shake.
“Nope,” Colt says, shaking his head. “You two are not allowed to be friends.”
I giggle and lean forward to meet his mouth with mine before leaving them to their meeting.
It feels incredible – so brazen and freeing – to kiss him in front of someone else.
It’s an intoxicating feeling I could easily get used to, and I wonder if it will always feel this way. I really hope it does.
The rest of the day passes with ease and I don’t hear the rumor mill starting to whirl, which is honestly a little surprising. I’ve heard rumors start between two people at nine in the morning and be the talk of the office by eleven, on more than one occasion.
A lot of the people who work here are young and bored and desperate to connect with each other on a social level to fill their extrovert meters while they’re on the clock, and gossip is a great way to do that.
I’ve never participated – mostly because it’s hurtful, partly because I find it to be very boring.
It’s just after seven when Colt and I pack up our things and get ready to head out. As he stuffs whatever paperwork he needs to take home into his briefcase, he stops and lifts his head to look at me. “Are you hungry?” He asks.
I can’t help but laugh. “What?”
“I just had a realization,” he muses. “We’ve done a lot of things together, but I’ve never taken you on a proper date. We should remedy that. Would you like to go on a date with me, Rowan?”
“I would love to go on a date with you,” I smile.
Warmth spreads through my chest and my stomach suddenly fills with thousands of very lively butterflies, so active I can almost feel their wings beating hard against my skin.
I’ve always been so afraid of spontaneity, too worried about how my body would react and needing time to plan for anything that could go wrong, from passing out to a sudden onslaught of pain.
Colt makes it feel safe. He’s shown me that, yes, things can go wrong, but it doesn’t have to be a disaster, and it can be fixed. He’s given me the freedom to say yes.
We decide on a semi-casual restaurant to visit for a late dinner, and because he’s Colt Fowler, we get seated immediately, despite the dinner rush.
With our entrées sitting in front of us, I let my newfound appreciation of spontaneity take control, reaching under the table to stroke my hand along Colt’s thigh. His body tenses, but he doesn’t move my hand.
Instead, he brings his hand over my own thigh, tracing his fingers up from my knee with a featherlight touch that tickles and sends heat screaming through my body.
I clench my thighs together in response, and over the top of the wine glass pulled to his lips he whispers, “Uh-uh,” using just enough pressure to force them apart again.
His hand creeps further up my leg until it finds itself sliding beneath my skirt. His fingers brush the lightest touches over my panties and I shudder in my seat, trying to maintain composure.
I look around to make sure that no one is staring at us as he pulls my panties to the side and slides a finger over me, letting out a self-satisfied chuckle when he finds me already soaking wet and aching for him.
“You can’t,” I whisper. As he slips two fingers inside of me, I grab the edge of the table with my free hand.
“I am,” he purrs, taking another sip of his wine. “Don’t make a scene.”
He expertly works his fingers, knowing exactly how I like it and where to move to send me reeling, and I move my hand harder, faster, against his cock, keeping my hand over his dark slacks.
I bite back a whimper as he curls his fingers against my most sensitive spot. “Drink your water,” he instructs.
Using my free hand, I pick up my glass and bring it my lips with a shaking hand, trying not to choke as I take a sip. My hips rock against his hand with a whimper as the pressure builds inside me, and I shoot him a desperate look.
“Not here,” I beg.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“...No.”
“Good girl.”
He moves faster, sending me careening toward the edge of climax as a muffled grunt escapes him.
His dick pulses beneath my hand and I stare in amazement at the composure he keeps plastered on his face as he comes.
I’m damn near ready to shatter and he’s stoic, looking nothing more than deep in thought.
The only thing betraying his secret is the heaving of his chest.
With one more hard curling of his fingers, I come undone, covering my face with my napkin as I use every strength I have not to scream in the middle of this restaurant.
He withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean before turning to me with a smirk.
“Dinner is delicious, don’t you think, baby?”
“Uh-huh,” I breathe, holding my napkin over my mouth as I try to shop trembling.
Somehow, we manage to tuck into our meals, acting as if nothing happened. Well, Colt pulls that part off well. I think my performance is probably slightly less convincing, but I try.
We make our way home shortly after and relieve the sitter before climbing into bed together. He pulls out his phone to make sure his alarm is on for tomorrow morning, and I catch a text message from Davis dropping down from his screen.
Davis: So does this mean I get my room back?