Chapter 9
Natalia
Imake the mistake of letting him press me into the front door, my back thudding against the thick wood as his hand curls around my nape.
Rowan is going to destroy me if I let him, so I have to beat him to it.
My hands explore his torso, the firmness beneath his shirt and the ridges I feel beneath my fingertips, telling me what is waiting underneath.
“If you don’t want this, tell me now,” he pants. “Because I won’t be able to stop once I take you inside, Natalia.”
“Take me inside, Rowan,” I whisper.
“Natalia…”
“What?” I groan, rolling my eyes and bringing his lips back to mine, already obsessed with the soft feel of his lips molding to mine. Made for my lips. The idea of that is enough to send me spiraling.
I thought he would reject me when I asked to take a picture together. Truthfully, I don’t know what made me ask in the first place. Maybe it was the pink wine I shared with the girls that emboldened me, but when he questioned me, I didn’t have an answer, so I shut down.
I’ve been rejecting him for years, so it’s not fair of me to be so hurt over something that felt vaguely close to rejection.
But after tonight, this is all it will be between us. It has to be.
“Are you sure?” I love that he asks.
“Stop that,” I grit. “I’m a grown woman. I’m saying yes. If I say no then it’s no, but I’m saying yes. Take me inside and finish what you started.”
I know I’ve struck a nerve when his mouth slams over mine, teeth clashing before his tongue delves into my mouth, tangling with my own.
The door opens behind me, but his arm around my waist and I don’t fall back.
He bends, his hands coming to the backs of my thighs as he lifts me off the ground, my legs wrapping around his broad body.
I tug at his hair, undo and discard the stupid orange handkerchief around his throat, and lick my way down his now-exposed neck as he kicks the door closed.
His skin is so soft, and every time I inhale, my lungs fill with his cologne and soap—the combination being the most masculine and sexy thing I’ve ever smelled.
“Shit, Nat.” He groans and my back is against a wall again. “You look so fucking sexy in this.”
I chuckle against his lips as he kicks off his pristine white sneakers. Always white fucking sneakers. I love his sneakers.
“Take it off, Rowan.” His fingers undo the top few hooks of my corset. “Upstairs.”
With a deep rumble from the back of his throat, he peels me off the wall and begins the journey upstairs. Every step comes with a kiss; every step brings me closer to Rowan’s body moving with mine—something I never thought would ever happen between us. Not like this.
I want him. Of all the images I’d fallen asleep with in my mind—about what it would be like to kiss Rowan—this is better. Better than a dream. He’s giving me everything he has, and I’m matching his fervor, allowing him to take just as much as he gives.
Letting him press me up against his front door doesn’t seem like a mistake after all. I’ve made so many mistakes in my life—some that haunt me every night, no matter how much time has passed. But the real mistake was thinking this was a mistake.
Rowan is Rowan, and I am me. After everything this life has given me, aside from my friends, Rowan might be the rarest of good things I’ll ever have—just another thought that haunts me when I feel at my lowest, when I feel unworthy and unloved and better off dead.
Because Rowan is Rowan, but I am me.
I kiss him everywhere my lips can reach with his shirt still on. Then I’m tossed onto the bed with a bounce that makes me giggle. The amusement is gone when I sit up on my elbows and see him standing between my spread legs.
His ocean eyes are stormy and tumultuous. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”
“Rowan.”
His arms reach behind his head and his shirt begins to rise, exposing the muscles beneath his tanned skin and the trail of hair beneath his navel. The deep indent at his hips forming a V feels all too ironic. It’s pointing, telling me exactly how this is going to end. With Rowan inside of me.
My core clenches at the image I conjure in my head of him thrusting in and out of me.
The white shirt gets tossed aside, giving me the privilege of seeing the god of a man beneath the clothes. His body, with his hair all tousled and disheveled from my fingers is a sight to behold. It should be illegal for him to wear clothes.
“So are you,” I confess on a breath. The moonlight pours from the windows, making him glow.
A smirk stretches on his perfect lips as he pops the button and lowers the zipper of his pants before he crawls over me. I cradle his body between my legs.
“Rowan,” I breathe, his name the only word in my brain. “Rowan.”
“Fuck, Natalia,” he barely growls. “I want you.”
I whimper. “I want you too.”
“You do?” Rowan breathes.
I nod. “Fuck me, Rowan.”
“I—”
I press my hand to his chest, pushing him up until he’s on his knees. “No strings,” I whisper. “Just fuck me.”
If Rowan Asher is going to ruin me, he may as well do it thoroughly.
There’s a flash of uncertainty in his expression that makes him hesitate, his eyes taking mine hostage. The moment is short, but it feels like an eternity has passed as I stare into the depths of blue.
This might be an extremely perilous situation, but I don’t know for whom anymore. It doesn’t matter when it’s him and me and the moon and nothing else. No one else.
No one else, Natalia.
Damn it.
“Rowan,” I breathe.
His lips are on mine, pulling me up to sit while he holds my face in his hands, and my hands hold onto his waist, feeling the warm, tanned skin against mine and every hard muscle that lies beneath.
His hands leave my cheeks for my bottoms, then my skirt is off and my red fishnets are in scraps, and I’m naked beneath him—hot and aching and writhing. I’ve never been so turned on and felt so sensual in my life. And it’s all because of him.
Unbelievable.
Who would have guessed it would feel like this?
Me. I should have guessed.
Rowan’s lips are kissing down my chest until I’m urged onto my back again and his tongue licks down the middle. I arch, offering myself to him and silently begging for him to give my taut, painful nipples the attention they crave.
“Rowan,” I beg, my fingers sifting through his hair and tugging in an attempt to steer him in the right direction.
“What is it, sweetheart?” His voice low and deep, the most concupiscent sound I’ve ever heard. “You need me to suck them?” His thumbs brush over my nipples. “You need my mouth?” He blows air over them, the sensation making my hips buck against his abdomen. “Tell me what you need.”
“Rowan,” I groan. “I hate you.”
He chuckles. “Tell me what you need.”
“You,” I breathe. “Naked.”
His chuckle is low and quiet against my chest, and then his tongue circles my nipple, licking leisurely before he sucks it into his mouth—hard.
“Oh god.”
Then he moves to the other.
“Rowan,” I moan. “Clothes. Take off your clothes.”
His tongue swirls one last time before he’s up on his knees again, his eyes perusing my naked body.
I don’t shy away the way I normally would; I don’t turn and twist to try and cover my skin.
Instead, I let myself lay bare with my legs spread open and wide, and I’m slightly grateful for my latest wax appointment.
“Fucking perfect, sweetheart,” he breathes and stands at the edge of the bed.
“Stop.” My cheeks burn. “You’re only saying that because I’ve got my legs open for you.”
“You are perfect,” he says, pushing his pants down off his hips. “All of you. All the time.”
My cheeks and body are on fire. A wildfire that can’t be put out.
“And look at you, Natalia.” He groans. “You love torturing me.”
“My favorite pastime,” I breathe, soothing some of my ache by running a hand across my breast and down my body.
“Natalia,” he warns.
“And now?” My fingers glide down my pussy, utterly soaked and all of it for him. The light, barely-there contact is enough for my breath to hitch.
“You’re killing me.”
I smirk and push two fingers into myself, watching the way his eyes turn into something carnal and primal—hungry. “And now?”
“I’m a dead man,” he purrs and his fingers hook at the waist band of his boxer briefs before they drop to the floor.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, my eyes absolutely fucking him as I take in all of his hard, sharp lines. And his cock—
“You and your perfect cunt are going to be the death of me,” he says, and before I can do anything, my fingers are in his mouth and his tongue laps at them, cleaning off my arousal. Then, in a matter of a second, his knees hit the floor and his tongue licks up my center.
“Oh my god,” I nearly scream.
He pushes my knees up to my chest. “Fuck,” he hisses. “This pussy is mine now, Natalia.”
“Mhhm,” I whimper thoughtlessly, my hands reaching for something to grab.
“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he growls against my pussy and one of my hands fists the comforter beneath me. “I could stay here forever.”
“Rowan,” I pant and shove my other hand through his hair. “Fuck me.”
He peppers kisses up my body, and I tell myself that if we ever do this again, I’m going to let him stay between my legs because this man and this mouth…He could kill me with orgasms alone.
His tongue flicks at my nipple before his lips reach mine, his tongue demanding entrance and letting me taste myself on him. “Condom,” he breathes on my lips.
I nod and he pulls away to find one in the nightstand nearby. “You bring so many girls home you have condoms in your nightstand?”
The foil rips and he rolls the latex down his shaft. “Never.”
“Then?”
“I’m a hopeful man.”
“Not a desperate man?”
“For you?” he says. “Always.”
This man. “Just me then?”
“Always just you.”
I wet my lips, taking his words and locking them away somewhere safe. Words I can torture myself with later.