Chapter Twenty-One #3
She wraps her arms around my neck as I carry her to the bedroom. We’re quiet as I kick the door open. Something about this moment feels far more intimate than anything we’ve shared.
“Do you want something to sleep in?” I ask.
She worries her bottom lip between her teeth before she speaks. “Is that an option?”
“Of course it is,” I set her down on the edge of the bed. I grab her chin in my fingers and tilt her face up to mine. “You always have a choice with me, Sunshine.”
Her eyes bounce between mine, something smoldering and a little fearful passing behind them. “What…what if I want something else?”
I tilt my head. “Oh? Like what?”
She swallows, her gaze traveling down to my lips before she snaps back up to meet my eyes. “Kiss me.”
I hold her face in my hands, brushing my thumbs over her cheeks. “Is that what you want?”
She nods, her eyes fluttering. “Yes. Please.”
I close the space between us, my lips meeting hers in a desperate connection that has far more than sparks flying. It’s like a whole warehouse of fireworks has been lit in an instant, igniting our blood and causing her to melt into me.
She becomes pliant beneath me as our lips move in tandem. It’s the best kiss I’ve ever had, and I can’t help myself as I nip at her puffy bottom lip.
A moan rolls smoothly from her, and I take the opening as I slick my tongue against hers. The ball of my piercing slides across her tongue teasingly, and she gives a helpless whimper. Her taste dances across my senses, rendering me helpless in her presence.
This woman owns me.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
She has no idea the things I would do for her. I would kill for her. I would give my very breath for her. I would worship at her feet if she uttered the word.
She’s a light that stormed right into the deepest, darkest spaces of my heart and eradicated everything in its path. Maybe it’s too early to say I love her, but I can’t describe what I feel in any other way.
I agree with my brother for the first time in my life, and I don’t care how crazy I sound.
When we finally pull away, I rest my forehead on hers, and our breath mingles between us as she smiles softly. A low chuckle leaves me, and I’ve never felt so comfortable with another person in my whole life.
“Is…” she stops, her voice dipping into a whisper. “Is a kiss supposed to feel like that?”
I close my eyes. “Between us? Always.”
“I’m scared,” she admits. “I’ve never felt that before, Rowan…”
I open my eyes, and we become locked in a stare so deep it’s like she can see straight through me. “You don’t have to fear anything when I’m here. I’ve got you, Sunshine.”
She lifts her hands to my wrists, our skin connecting. “That’s what I’m scared of. I’m not used to this.”
“Hey,” I coo. “Do you trust me?”
Her gaze bounces between mine. “I-I don’t know—”
“Do you trust me, Addison?”
She bites her lip. “Yes.”
“Good,” I keep my joy contained as we share our moment. “Because I would never let anything happen to you. You know that, don’t you?”
“It took me some time, but yes. I still don’t know if I can fully trust someone other than myself…” Worry seeps into her tone, and it’s like twisting a knife in my chest. If I could take it all away, I would.
“And that’s okay,” I say. “I’ll always be there to catch you.”
She nods. “Can I wear one of your shirts to sleep?”
“Of course,” I smile before giving her a peck and standing. I pull out one of my fresh shirts from the dresser and present it to her. “From the Rowan collection.”
She snorts before taking it from me. “You’re such a dork.”
My smile fades slightly as I realize she hasn't seen my back yet. Our trust is rocky, but I want this. I want her.
I’ve never shared this side of myself with anyone. No one knows what I hide under my clothes—the trauma that's carved into my skin. It’s a constant reminder of the hell I faced, and something I tried to cover up with tattoos. I quickly learned that no amount of ink could conceal the past.
“Is something wrong?” Addison asks, concern leeching into her eyes.
I swallow, looking away from her as if seeing her reaction will break me. “Um, my back…”
She tilts her head in question. “What about it?”
I take a breath before turning around and pulling my shirt over my head. I close my eyes in pain when I hear her soft gasp.
I feel bare—vulnerable.
I expect pity or the twisted expression of someone disgusted, which is why my muscles tense when I feel her delicate fingers hover over one of the rugged gouges carved under my shoulder blade.
“Rowan…” She sounds like she's on the verge of tears, and it makes my chest pang.
“My dad wasn't a good person,” I chuckle humorlessly as her hand trails along my back. Her touch doesn't hurt, but the ghosts of my past still linger with every scar.
I feel something soft press between my shoulders, and my lips part in shock when I realize she's kissing me. She’s kissing the very marks that made me feel unwanted. She’s giving me soft, caring touches over something that bleeds the ugliness of my childhood like a painted canvas.
There is no disgust or pity.
She’s heartbroken for me.
Her hands, gentle and tender, turn me back towards her, and my eyes widen at the tears welling. The green in her irises pops out, snagging my heart in a fist.
“How could he do that to you…” As the first tear slips from her enchanting eyes, I catch it with my thumb.
“It was a long time ago,” I say softly.
She shakes her head as her mouth screws up. “I’m so sorry you have to go through that, Rowan.”
Her words punch me in the gut. No one has ever been enraged on my behalf like this woman has. She’s upset for me, and something shifts. It’s profound, and life-changing—like an eye-opening moment.
I’m in awe of her as I silently intertwine our fingers and lead her to the bed. She climbs in before lifting up the covers for me, completely unaware that she’s transformed before my very eyes.
She’s it for me.
She’s the one.
I slide into bed beside her and watch as she slips the shirt over her head. It swallows her, but she looks comfortable as she slides her legs under the covers, and I pull the duvet over us. I spoon her, and I notice how perfectly we fit together.
I’m not used to taking naps, but with Addison curled up next to me, I feel my eyes growing heavy as I brush out her strands. The heaviness of what I’ve just shown her settles over me, but it doesn't feel as weighted as I once remembered it.
As we both lull to sleep, it’s a picture-perfect image, and I can’t imagine our lives any other way.