Chapter Eight
Five Months Earlier - Norah and Eamon’s Wedding
Alicia
We just watched our friends get married, and are now celebrating with drinking and dancing in the same room of the Butler House as their ceremony.
I’ve been sipping on a single drink the entire evening, just so I can remember this night.
Eamon and Norah are wed, and the love pouring out of them is palpable.
The sight of them lifts my spirits so much that I don’t scowl at Rowan when he stretches his hand in my direction.
“C’mon, darlin’. Just give me one.”
His eyes are begging me to dance with him, and I cannot deny him.
I’ve been watching him all night. He looks sinful in his grey suit, but when he removed the jacket and rolled the sleeves of the white button up to his elbows, I was entranced.
Much like the previous November, one dance leads to more.
He pulls me close as the music slows, pressing a hand to my lower back.
Calloused fingers scrape across the exposed skin courtesy of my backless dress and clasp my free hand.
We sway like this for a moment before he places my hand onto his shoulder, wrappings both arms tight around my waist. I don’t resist but settle into his embrace as we dance, my temple against his bearded jaw.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers into my hair.
I start to pull back to look at him, but he tightens his hold, “For what, Ro?”
His fingers absently trace my spine, causing goosebumps to bloom along my arms.
“For that night in November. At the club,” he murmurs.
Stilling, I manage to meet his eyes. “Which part are you sorry for, exactly? What almost happened? Or stopping?”
He looses a whiskey-laced huff of a laugh. “Neither and both, all at the same time.”
“Gallagher,” I warn, arching a brow.
Pressing his forehead to mine, he inhales deeply before the levee breaks.
“I’m sorry for kissing you for the first time at some fecking club, but I’ll never regret kissing you.
I’m sorry and not sorry that I stopped. Sorry because I wanted you—still want you—so badly.
” His growled words cause me to suck in a sharp breath.
“But I’m not sorry that I realized the first time with you deserves more than a quick fuck in the jacks.
I am sorry that I made that decision for you and for making you feel like I didn’t want to be with you.
It’s all I want, even if you deserve so much better than what I could give you. ”
Uninvited tears well in my eyes at his admission, and it overwhelms me—it scares me. I don’t do tender moments, so rather than say anything, I tilt my head up and bring his mouth to mine. Just a simple press of my lips to his before moving my mouth to his ear.
“Let’s try again.”
A slight shudder rolls through him, but Ro says nothing as he takes my hand and slowly leads me from the reception to the elevators.
We don’t speak until we reach his room on the second floor.
I’m nervous as he opens the door for me, and I step inside.
The space is green with a single queen sized bed near an elevated alcove that leads to the French doors of a small veranda.
Two dark green, velvet covered chairs take up the far wall by bow windows overlooking the garden.
The sound of the door snicking shut doesn’t startle me, but a knuckle trailing down my back does. I sense Rowan stepping closer then feel the heat of his breath on my neck. I hold absolutely still, allowing him to make the first move.
“This tattoo is stunning.” His voice is soft, reverent. “When did you get it?”
It’s a Phoenix, in the dead center of my back with outstretched wings, but rather than rising from the blaze, the bird is the fire—sooty black edges encasing a smoldering ember that becomes a live fire with the shifting of my muscles and skin.
“The day I turned twenty,” I tell him quietly.
His fingers trace the lines of her wings to where they end at the curve of my ribs before coasting around to the front.
His thumbs graze the underside of my breasts over the fabric of my dress as he flattens his hands, one on top of the other, gently pulling me back until I’m flush against his chest. My hands naturally rest on his.
The coarse hair of his beard tickles when he drops his mouth to the crook of my neck.
I angle my head to grant him better access as he skates his lips to my ear, flicking my pierced lobe with his tongue. I’m instantly wet.
“Is this okay?” Ro breathes the words, and I shiver.
“Yes,” I answer, my voice barely audible over the thundering of my heart. I more than want this, but it feels so intimate, and I don’t know how to do that.
“I’m clean, and I have protection,” he mumbles into my hair.
“Same.”
“I want to take my time with you, Li.” He sucks on a tender spot under my ear before beginning his descent to my shoulder. “Watching you in this bleedin’ dress has had me aching for you all night.”
The wine-red spaghetti strap dress I wore to the wedding is tight fitting, with a lace overlay and high-low hem.
It’s the nicest dress I’ve ever owned, and it was hand-made by Norah.
While I wasn’t a part of the wedding ceremony, she said the pattern screamed my name at her.
I loved it immediately, but right now? I could kiss her with gratitude.
Rowan removes a hand from my torso, bringing it to the thin strap, and slowly slides it off my shoulder before kissing the lunar phases tattoo there.
He repeats the motion on the other side, kissing the symbol of Capricorn I had inked when I turned eighteen.
When his hands leave my body, I want to whine in protest until I feel ghosting fingers begin to pull on the zipper at my lower back, dragging it over the curve of my ass.
I hear the low rumble of approval when Ro discovers I have nothing on under the dress.
“Fuck,” he growls. “Not sure if I’m happy that you’re bare under this fabric or disappointed that I don’t get to unwrap the rest of you.”
“Do you want me to go get something?” My voice is breathy. At this point I’ll do anything he asks just as long as it means we finish what we’ve started.
“No,” he grinds out as he grips my hips firmly, yanking me so that my ass is rubbing up against his very hard cock. “The only way you’re leaving this room is if it’s on fire.”
“Then you better hurry up and get this fucking dress off me.”
A low chuckle vibrates in his chest as his hands glide up and down my sides.
He begins turning us until we’re facing the large mirror on the adjacent wall.
While holding my gaze, Ro peels the dress from my body, letting it fall into a crimson puddle at my high-heeled feet.
With the additional three inches the shoes provide, our faces are level, meaning that when his eyes leave mine to take in my naked reflection, I can feel his breath cascade over my skin as he exhales
“Look at you. Fucking perfect.” Ro’s golden eyes devour every inch of me, a promise in them that this is only the beginning. “Can I touch you, Li?”
A huff of a laugh escapes me. “You had better touch me, Rowan, or so help me…”
Curving his body around mine, he brings his shaky hands to my breasts, watching in the mirror as he cups them gently.
Arching my back slightly, I force myself into his palms as my head drops back onto his shoulder.
I love that he’s trying to prolong this, but I’m so turned on, it’s uncomfortable.
He takes the hint and squeezes me before brushing his thumbs roughly over my nipples.
I suck a breath through my teeth, whimpering slightly.
“Are you wet for me, darlin’?” Ro murmurs into my neck.
We both watch in rapture as his hand snakes downward, tracing the triple goddess tattoo that begins between my breasts before spreading beneath them.
“Yes,” I breathe out, rubbing my thighs together, searching for some sort of relief.
“Do you need me, a chéadsearc?”
I think he just called me cade shark, but my confusion flies away the moment he slips a finger through the soft curls at the apex of my thighs, pressing my clit briefly before sinking into my pussy.
“Fuck,” he groans at the same time a moan sounds from me. “You’re dripping, Li.” Ro’s voice has a primal edge to it and that has me squirming against him.
“Rowan,” I gasp when he inserts a second finger and begins pumping slowly in and out of me. “Please…”
The leisurely pace he’s set with his fingers is maddening.
Edging is great, but I don’t want to be edged right now.
I want this man to claim me. My hips roll, grinding against his rock hard cock as I try to get myself off on the heel of his hand.
He removes his fingers, making me growl in frustration.
I’m about to take matters into my own hands when he steps around me, dropping to his knees and holding me captive with burning eyes.
“Watch the mirror.”
“Wha…oh God,” I choke out, hands dropping to his shoulders as he simultaneously grabs my ass with both hands and presses his face into me.
He licks a slow path from my entrance to my clit, then mumbles into me, “Are you watching the mirror?”
Wobbling on unsteady legs, I curl my fingers into the fabric covering his broad shoulders.
He nips me gently in a place I’ve never been nipped, making me whimper, but I raise my eyes to the mirror.
The sight of him on his knees before me, face buried in my pussy and gripping my ass for dear life, nearly sends me over the edge.
This is an out of body experience as I watch one of my hands leave his shoulder and cup the back of his head, pulling him even closer.
I feel, more than hear, his rumble of approval and it sends a shiver through me.
With every unhurried swipe of his tongue, a brick in the walls around my heart begin to fall.
It’s not just sex. It’s the way he’s waited for this. The way he wants to savor every moment. The way his hands are still gentle, even though he’s holding me firmly.
My legs begin to tremble, threatening to go out from under me at any point. “Ro, I’m going to fall.”
His mouth leaves me, amber eyes meeting mine. His beard is soaked with a mixture of my arousal and his own saliva, and it’s hot as fuck. The hands on my backside loosen and slide to the back of my thighs.
“I’m not going to let you fall.” He says it so earnestly, like he means more than just keeping me steady while he devours me.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I cup his cheek and whisper, “I know, Rowan.”
He nods in understanding before moving back to his ministrations, but I pull on his lapels to bring him to a stop.
His hands move up my body as he stands, locking eyes with me.
One by one, my fingers deftly unfasten each button.
His jaw clenches when I reach the bottom.
The last button is tucked into his slacks, leaving his shirt gaping open, exposing the distinct lines of the muscles that make up his torso.
Dragging a finger down his sternum until I reach the belt buckle, I begin pulling the rest of his shirt from his pants to release the last button.
Stepping closer, my palms slide under the material to push it from his shoulders.
Jesus, he’s beautiful. I imagine he was a tall and gangly kid at one point, but he definitely isn’t gangly now.
And the tattoos! He could rival me on the amount of ink covering his skin.
On his right pectoral is a rabbit looking upward, made up of Celtic swirls.
The lines are intricate, weaving throughout the animal’s body.
It’s fascinating. Giving into the temptation, I trace the lines with my fingertips, noting the steady rise and fall of his chest. Placing my other hand over his heart, I find that it’s racing just as fast as my own.
We’ve danced around each other for years, flirting and fighting, but never letting ourselves take that final step to meet in the middle of the dance floor.
Whenever I imagined sex with Rowan—and I’ve imagined it countless times—I never once thought it would be so overwhelmingly intimate.
Ripping our clothes off and fucking, quick and dirty, certainly, but to undress one another so attentively?
So reverently? I think that scares both of us as much as it excites.
He lays a warm hand over the one I have resting above his heart, and my eyes dart to his.
“I want you,” he tells me hoarsely. “I want all of you.”