Chapter Seventeen
Alicia
Rowan takes a seat on the opposite side, legs spread wide as he sinks down into a slouch.
After removing the hat and tossing it onto the desk, he releases a heavy sigh as his head drops to rest on the back of the chair.
I watch his eyes close and throat bob as he swallows.
From there, I follow the lines of rose tattoos on his neck until they dip below the collar of his shirt.
The white bow tie is slightly crooked, and my fingers itch to set it straight.
His broad chest and shoulders rise and fall with each steady breath.
As my gaze travels down his torso, I attempt to block the images of his sculpted abs, but I fail miserably.
I remember every detail-every dip and line of the muscles he’s worked so hard for, the way my fingernails lightly scraped over his skin and how the dips of him felt under my tongue.
When his lips had ghosted across mine in the bathroom at the country club, my heart rate spiked, and the desire I’ve fought to keep at bay rattled against the bars of the cage I stuffed it in after Ireland.
If I had allowed myself to remember the way our mouths fused—and the way he tastes—it would have been all over.
“Eyes are up here, hen.”
There’s no hiding the way my face heats at being caught, but I roll my eyes and nod toward his waist. “Hard to ignore the flashing billboard on that belt.”
Ro glances down at his belt buckle before the corner of his mouth tips up in a smirk. “Then it’s doing its job.”
I scoff. “Drawing attention to your dick?”
“Worked on you, didn’t it?”
Yes.
“You wish.” The words snap between us as I cross my arms over my chest. Ro’s gaze settles on the exposed skin there, and it takes everything to hold a shiver at bay.
“Aye. I do.”
Choosing to ignore that, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Saw you had a good time in St. Louis last week.” Regret washes over me as I see his reaction.
“If by good time you mean us losin’ the match,” his amber eyes shoot to mine. “Then sure, yeah. It was grand.” His voice drips with sarcasm.
“No,” I start. I really should keep my mouth shut, but this whole situation has my anxiety spiking. “Afterwards. At the bar. Someone posted pictures of you and a blonde all cozy.”
The notification hit my phone late that night.
I was working during the game, but I always check the highlights and look for footage online.
It’s a weakness I’ll never admit to. That and how I have my phone set to notify me anytime Rowan’s name comes up on the internet.
It’s not healthy, I know. The image showed him sitting at a bar, looking absolutely fuckable in all black…
and a pair of glasses I didn’t even know he owned.
His elbows were propped on the counter, grinning wickedly at some tattooed blonde with huge tits, who was leaning toward him, manicured fingers brushing the top of his hand.
Rowan angles his head to the side, brows furrowing as he searches my face. “You mean Fiona?”
Scowling, I examine the chipped paint on my own nails. “I don’t know her name. And I don’t care. I’m just making conversation.”
There’s a long pause. I can feel his eyes boring into me from across the desk, but I refuse to look up because I know my emotions are running wild tonight.
After seeing Ro at work earlier, the incident with Bridget, and the way I broke down in front of him, I don’t trust myself to keep the walls up.
“Right. Well, she was a good Irish lass who knew her way around a tap.” There’s a hint of mischief in his voice that has me doing exactly what I was determined not to do—look at him.
My eyes burn, either from anger or devastation, I don’t know, but the mirth in his own fades quickly.
He doesn’t owe me anything. Just because we spent one night together doesn’t mean that either of us will be celibate for the rest of our lives.
We’re both free to sleep with whomever we want to, but damn if it doesn’t tear my heart out.
“Ah, shite.” Rowan leans forward in the chair, propping his elbows on his knees. “No, I didn’t mean my…I meant an actual tap. She poured the second best Guinness I’ve had since coming to the States.”
I wave a hand in his direction, trying to play it off as nothing, while also breathing a huge sigh of relief.
A fake grin is plastered on my face as I try to diffuse the situation. “It’s fine, Ro. As long as I still pour the first best Guinness, I’m cool.”
He pins me with a look I can only describe as anguished. “You’ll always be the first, a chéadsearc.”
There’s that name again.
I still don’t know what it means. Forget about searching the internet for the definition; I don’t even know how to spell it.
We stare at each other for a long moment, my heart racing in my chest. The conversation I know we need to have is looming over us, but I can’t make myself speak the words. I don’t even know what I’d say.
Hey, remember that time we fucked in Ireland, and I left you high and dry?
Yeah, the truth is that I realized I’m in love with you and probably always have been and that scares the ever-loving shit out of me.
I’m broken and don’t know how to love you the way you deserve.
I don’t even love myself. And rather than risk hurting either of us, it’s just easier for me to keep you at arms’ length.
Turns out I don’t need to say anything, “Will you talk to me now? Please?” Rowan keeps his voice soft as he asks for my input.
I open and close my mouth several times as I try to formulate the words, but I can’t do it.
I look away like the coward that I am. A heavy sigh leaves him, and the old chair creeks as he adjusts his body.
Or at least that’s what I think he’s doing, when suddenly the chair I’m sitting in spins, and I’m face to face with that godawful belt buckle.
“Ro —”.
“No, Alicia,” he snaps, squatting down and leveling me with his hard gaze before releasing the chair.
One hand goes to run down his face while the other clenches at his side.
“I’ve given you space and time to sort through whatever it is that scared you off, but I’m not waiting any longer.
I thought that night was a turning point for us.
” His large palm rubs his defined jaw. “Fuck, I knew it was. So imagine my disbelief when I woke up to a cold bed. Do you even know how terrifying and painful it was? Especially when you wouldn’t return my calls? ”
I wince because the thought has plagued me with guilt for months now. I knew leaving would hurt him, but not as much as being with me would. My eyes close because I can’t stand to see the pain in his eyes.
“Then yesterday,” he confides gently as he sinks to his knees in front of me, cracking something inside me as he does. “Yesterday was the first time I’ve been able to touch you. Hold you. And it felt…it felt like home, Li.”
My eyelids snap open, and our gazes lock. It did feel like home. Being wrapped in his embrace felt like finally stepping foot onto solid ground after holding on to a lifeboat during a hurricane.
A dormant ember flares in my chest, the burn is both excruciating and euphoric.
The feeling is similar to the way I feel when I’m getting a tattoo.
The needle pierces the skin, injecting ink into the wound, and while it stings, it makes you feel almost powerful because you know that it serves a purpose.
You know that this pain is creating something beautiful.
Swallowing my pride and nearly choking on it, I whisper, “I know.”
Rowan’s ginger brows lift in shock. “Sorry?”
“It felt like home to me too.”
A myriad of emotions flashes over his handsome face before settling on relief.
“Thank fuck,” he breathes, then his hands are cupping my face and his lips are on mine.
If I thought being in his arms felt like home, it’s nothing compared to this. A needy moan slips from me when Rowan forces my mouth open and our tongues meet. It’s been too long, but feels like we never stopped.