Eli 39 #2
The kiss started soft and slow, but it didn't stay that way for long. He pressed in closer, tilting his head to deepen it and make my heart pound faster in my chest. His hand slid up to the side of my neck, his thumb brushing along my jaw in a way that made my skin tingle.
I didn't even think. I just moved.
I sat up a little more under him, chasing the kiss, hungry for the way he tasted.
My arm found his waist to pull him in until our bodies pressed together.
His breath hitched quietly against my mouth, and it only made me want him closer.
The pressure of his body over mine, the weight, the heat – it was all I could feel.
My hand slid up his back, while the other wrapped around his hips to keep him close.
After a moment, he pulled back only a little to hover over me with a smug look. His voice was low, breath warm against my lips. "That better?"
"Not quite," I whispered.
I caught his mouth again, harder this time. He made a quiet sound, half startled and half laugh, before giving in. His hand slid into my hair, and his fingers tangled tight as he kissed me back with more heat and intent. His hips rocked against me to make me groan into his mouth.
I curled my fingers at the small of his back, tugging him down into me –
The sharp scent of burning meat hit my nose.
My eyes snapped open. "Shit!"
I scrambled out from under him, nearly dumping poor Rowan off in the process.
He yelped and caught himself against the arm of the sofa, blinking at me like I'd lost my mind.
I darted to the stove, grabbing the spatula and desperately scraping at the sausages and tomatoes. But it was already too late.
A deep charred black greeted me from the pan. I exhaled sharply and scraped the ruined food straight into the bin.
Behind me, I could hear repressed laughter in Rowan's voice. "You're a photographer, Eli. You literally work with timing for a living. How do you manage to burn things?"
I shot him a flat look. "My priorities were elsewhere, thank you." This time, I paid attention as I put fresh sausages and tomato slices in the pan. But even with my back to him, I could feel Rowan watching me with quiet amusement.
I focused on the food after that and kept my hands busy while my mind came back down to earth. The second round came out better. Sausages browned, tomatoes seared just right around the edges. Once everything else was done, I plated it all up and set the dishes on the table with a quiet clatter.
"Food's up," I called over my shoulder.
No answer. I paused to listen, then turned.
Rowan was curled up on the sofa with his back to me. He'd tucked one arm under his head, and the other draped loosely in front of him. He wasn't moving, so I thought he might've fallen asleep again. I crossed the room quietly and leaned down.
"Rowan?"
He didn't react.
It wasn't until I touched his arm, just a light nudge, that he blinked and flinched. He turned over and looked up at me with a hint of surprise and confusion.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."
He lifted a hand to rub at his face. "No, it's... I'm fine. Just thinking."
"About what?"
His gaze went distant again, fixed on something past me. Or maybe not on anything at all.
I frowned slightly. "What is it, Ro?"
For a little while, he didn't move. He just stayed there as if debating whether to speak at all. Then, without a word, he got up and stepped over to his desk.
I watched with a kind of unease I didn't often feel. He slid open the top drawer, pulled out a slim folder, and stared at it.
My gut tightened. Why was he suddenly so quiet?
He turned to come back to the sofa, dropping down on the edge of it without once looking up at me. The folder stayed in his lap as he said, "I need to tell you something... Before this goes any further."
The way he worded it did nothing for my nerves, so I stayed silent and just sat next to him and waited. He sighed heavily and finally handed the folder to me with a slight tremor in his fingers.
I looked at the papers inside. At first, I didn't fully understand what I was seeing. A cover page, the hospital letterhead, clinical formatting. Then I started to read, and certain words caught my attention. Toxicology. Positive. Underneath it looked like some notes from a medical exam.
My eyes kept moving. I saw phrases like disoriented, memory loss, unable to recall several hours, suspected non-consensual sexual contact, Rohypnol. One line had a time and location. Another mentioned evidence collection.
I stopped reading when I realised I was holding my breath. Rohypnol. That was...
I stared at that part again, as if rereading it might suddenly make it say something different. My gaze landed on the date written in the corner – and my stomach turned. Late August. That was when I saw the bruises. When Rowan kept trying to get out of telling me why he looked so rough.
My hands clenched around the folder, but I forced myself to close it gently. My jaw hurt from how tight I was clenching it.
Rowan hadn't moved from his spot next to me. His shoulders were tense, his posture too straight. He stared off in some random direction, as if he didn't want to see my face while I processed what I was reading.
Don't yell. Don't lash out. Don't make this harder on him.
My voice came out quiet and tight with the effort it took to keep it level. "Did he...?"
Rowan didn't say a word. Didn't even nod. But the tiniest shift of his shoulders gave me the answer.
I didn't mean to throw it. One second, the folder was in my hands – the next, I'd flung it to the floor, pages scattering in a sharp burst of flying paper.
I saw Rowan flinch out of the corner of my eye. That snapped something in me, but I couldn't stop myself. I shot to my feet and started pacing, heat crawling under my skin so hot I couldn't breathe right. "I'll fucking kill him."
Every instinct in me screamed for blood, screamed to storm out the door and confront Marcus and put him in the ground myself. I didn't even care if it landed me in prison. Not when all I could see in my head was Rowan broken, drugged, and violated – and me too fucking blind to realise it back then.
"Eli, stop."
The words weren't loud, but they broke through my murderous rage long enough to get my attention. I turned sharply to find Rowan had stood and grabbed my arm, and I braced for the guilt. I must've scared him, set him back, made everything worse.
But he didn't flinch from me. His grip didn't loosen, and there was no fear in his face. Just urgency as his eyes searched mine. Then it clicked.
He wasn't scared of me. He was scared for me. Of what would happen if I let this drive me into something I couldn't undo.
Despite that, the anger continued to pulse in my ears. I wanted to put my fist through the goddamn wall. I wanted Marcus in front of me so I could break his face. I wanted – I didn't even know what I wanted, but it was violent and furious and helpless all at once.
Rowan's grip on my arm tightened. "Don't. You can't let it do to you what it already did to me."
I stared at him. My jaw tightened again.
To my surprise, he wrapped his arms around my neck and pulled me down into a tight hug. "You couldn't have known, Eli. I didn't let you."
The rage inside me twisted and flipped. Suddenly, I wasn't angry at Marcus. I was furious at myself.
Returning the hug, my voice cracked when I said, "Is that what you were going to tell me? Before he...?"
"Yeah." The quiet way he said that nearly wrecked me.
Somehow, I resisted the urge to act on the fury still simmering in my bones. Instead, I pulled Rowan in tighter and held him firmly against my chest. He sank into it immediately.
I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe. To focus on the way he felt solid against me. To remind myself that he was here and that he felt safe enough to finally tell me what happened. That was what mattered.
Neither of us spoke for a long while. At some point, I felt the last of the tension ease from my body, and I let out a slow breath. Before I could bite my tongue, I muttered, "I'm going to start keeping you in bubble wrap at this rate."
He let out a quiet huff of laughter and pulled back to look at me. "You'd pop all the bubbles just to annoy me."
"Well, duh."
His smile faded into something softer as he studied my face.
His hand lingered at my shoulder, then slid up to rest against the side of my neck.
His eyes scanned mine like he was making sure I was okay.
Not just calmed down, but really, truly okay.
Whatever he saw must've satisfied him because the next second, he leaned in.
The kiss wasn't heated or teasing. It was slow. Gentle. Grounding. His lips moved with a tenderness I felt all the way to my chest, and a pulse of calm spread through me. When he pulled away, he let his forehead rest against mine.
“You don't have to be careful with me,” he murmured after a second, his thumb brushing my jaw. “I promise I'm not made of glass.”
I started to argue, but he shook his head slightly and kept going.
“I know what's going on in your head. I know you worry, and I understand why. But I’m not going to break." He let that sit for a second before adding, softer, “Especially not with you.”
My throat tightened, but he didn't let me look away.
He leaned in just enough that our noses brushed, and his expression sobered again. "I've always felt safest with you. I need you to know that. If it were anyone else last night, it wouldn't have happened. You didn't do anything wrong."
I didn't know what to say to that. So instead, I wrapped my arms around him again and pulled him close, pressing my face into the side of his neck. He melted into it with a quiet exhale and settled into the space I made for him.
His words steadied something deep in me. I always knew he trusted me. He'd shown it in a thousand quiet ways over the years. But hearing him say it out loud so plainly made it hit different. I didn't take that kind of trust lightly – and I wasn't going to waste it.
For now, I didn't let myself think about what I read in that folder.
Or how much it hurt to know he'd carried that alone.
I just held him. Let everything sink in slowly instead of all at once.
I felt his warmth, the solid press of his body against mine, the quiet strength in how tightly he held me back.
Eventually, I eased back a bit to look at him. My hand drifted up to rest over his heart. "You know what? We should go see the fireworks."
He blinked. "Fireworks?"
"Yeah. Next week, for New Year's." I smirked. "I mean, unless you got something better planned."
He rolled his eyes. "When you put it like that..."
"I do put it like that. Because it's gonna be fun. Fireworks, hot chocolate. And most important, making fun of tourists trying to take selfies in the dark."
That earned me a small, amused exhale. "That does sound tempting."
"Sooooooooo we're going, then?"
He let out an exaggerated sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, we're going."
A triumphant smile tugged at my lips. "That's my boy."
His face turned red immediately. "Eli..."
But I was already laughing and leaned in to press a quick kiss to his forehead before he could properly tell me off.
I couldn't fix what happened to him. I couldn't go back and stop Marcus before he ever got his hands on him. But I could be here with him now. I could remind Rowan that he wasn't alone anymore, that his life wasn't just a patchwork of bad nights and things he wished he could forget.
And that there was more waiting for him than just what Marcus left behind.