Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Rowen stretched with a silent groan, absently scratching the side of her nose. She shifted to roll over, only to be met with the firm cushions of the sofa—and the unwelcome reminder that she wasn’t in bed. Because she had been waiting for Mason to get back.
She cracked open her eyes and frowned, bleary-eyed, at the blanket, then at the dark room. Mason must have covered her and turned out the lights. The gesture was sweet, but she wished he had woken her.
The house was still, the hush of silence like that of someone holding their breath.
Her entire evening had been spent in a cycle of worry, planning, and thinking.
She checked her phone for the time and saw that it was after two.
Only a few more hours until morning. She had waited this long. Another little bit wouldn’t hurt.
She rose to her feet, the familiar weight of dread settling on her like lead.
She’d spent the night checking the time every few minutes, anxious for Mason to return so she could tell him everything.
When she found the keys to his car, she had gotten inside it twice to go find him, only to change her mind at the last minute.
She wanted to talk to him first, and if she arrived at the wake looking frazzled and scared, everyone would know.
Rowen headed to the kitchen for some water, but she found herself walking down the hall instead.
No light shone under his door, and no sounds came from within.
Yet she remained in the corridor, unable to move as the memory of their sensual, carnal kiss returned, slamming into her with the force of a hurricane.
She had been anticipating his return all night, eager to see him and share what Edie had said.
It was only in that instant that she understood she’d waited for him for something else entirely.
Rowen put her palm on the wall as desire, slick and scorching, swelled and spread.
She pressed her other hand to her stomach in an effort to stanch the throbbing of her center, but there was no stopping what Mason had ignited.
There was no way they could remain in the same house together now. She would have to leave. Bronwyn would let her stay at the manor. Or maybe it was time for her to return home and put everything out of her mind: Mason, London, Skye, and that earth-shattering kiss.
That was the problem, though. She would never be able to forget it. How could she erase such a kiss? Even now, the memory of his lips against hers haunted her. Tender, consuming. Like she was something to be cherished, then devoured.
Claimed.
She could still taste him—warm, heady, and addictive. It was a kiss that had undone her from the inside out. Her eyes closed as she swayed, wishing his deliciously hard body was there to hold on to, that she could sink her fingers into his hair.
The worst thing she could have done was kiss him. But there was no turning back the clock now. She would have to live with the heat, the ache. The longing.
Her eyes opened, and before she knew it, she stood at his door.
Her hand was on the handle as she pressed her ear against the door to listen.
Her blood roared, making it impossible for her to hear anything.
She shouldn’t even be contemplating going inside.
She was playing with fire. But despite knowing she would get burned, she couldn’t turn away.
As if someone had taken control of her body, her hand twisted, opening the door.
It swung open soundlessly, and she stepped inside, only to halt when she found him lying on his back, his head turned away from her, and the covers bunched at his hips, revealing his spectacular, bare chest. One arm was bent, his hand near his face, while the other lay on his stomach. Even asleep, the man stole her breath.
A million wants roared through her in that instant, and none of them were within reach.
Not really. Not if she wanted to be able to look at herself in the mirror again.
Mason was a temptation the likes of which she had never encountered before.
Their attraction was white-hot, which only meant it would fizzle out quicker.
It was better to save them both a lot of misery and stop things before they went any further. It was the smart thing to do.
Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, imagining all that could be if she were a different person. The nights of passion, the joy of being with him, of starting a life…of growing old together.
The longer she looked and fantasized, the harder it was to bear. For the first time, she saw all the things she had always wanted within reach, yet still miles away. She turned around and drew the door closed behind her.
“Rowen.”
The sound of her name on his lips, low and raspy with sleep, undid her. She should keep going, but she couldn’t shake the deep timbre of his voice. Slowly, she turned to face him and saw that he had risen up on an elbow, his brow furrowed in worry.
“What is it?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. Go back to sleep.”
“It’s something. I can tell.”
Oh, it was something all right. An unwavering, unquenchable firestorm of yearning.
For him. All for him. It felt as if she might go up in flames at any second if he didn’t touch her, if she didn’t bridge the space between them and mold her body to his.
It felt as if their souls belonged together.
As if he were someone she had been searching for from the moment she came into this world.
“Stay,” he urged.
She might not be able to see his eyes, but she felt the intensity of his gaze. Heard his need-roughened voice. The slim thread of control she had grasped so tightly slipped through her fingers. She wasn’t leaving. Maybe she had known that before she even entered his bedroom.
Admitting it, however, was impossible.
“All I can offer is one night,” she told him. “Don’t ask for more. I won’t be able to give it. I don’t do relationships. I hurt everyone I get close to because I don’t stick around. Ever.”
If she thought her statement would change his mind, she was wrong.
He lifted the edge of the covers and simply waited.
It was all the encouragement she needed.
She tugged the sweatshirt over her head and let it fall from her fingers.
The sweats and socks followed as she walked toward him, unhooking her bra.
The straps loosened on her shoulders and fell down her arms. She tossed the garment aside as she reached the bed.
There, she stopped and removed her panties, his gaze following her movements.
Her breath was coming fast, her blood hot, her body ready.
Before she slipped between the sheets, their eyes met.
There were no words as he pulled her against him, flesh against flesh, heat against heat. Her breath came quicker when she realized he was already naked. His cock throbbed hot and hard between them as he rolled on top of her.
The passion was palpable, tangible, so fiery it sparked around them as he lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was slow, erotic. Utterly carnal. A decadent claiming that spoke of a need long restrained. His lips moved over hers with purpose and hunger, as if he had forever to explore and savor her.
Every brush of his lips ignited something primal.
Every tilt of his head was a silent vow that this would never be enough.
Their breaths mingled as the heat between them soared with each deliberate pass of his tongue, until the world fell away, leaving only sensation and the helpless, spiraling crash into each other.
She caressed his back, exploring his shifting muscles as he moved.
Then her fingers found his face. He tore his lips from her mouth and turned his face into her palm, planting a hot kiss there.
She forgot to breathe as she traced his full lips with her thumb.
His gaze met hers. A storm churned in the gray depths, one of yearning, of longing.
Of an ache only she could satisfy.
He rocked against her, dragging his arousal against her throbbing center. She sucked in a quick breath as pleasure shot through her like lightning, raw and uncontrollable. Her legs wrapped around his hips. Desire blazed in his eyes as he reached down and brought his cock to her entrance.
She bit her lip, moaning as he rubbed the blunt head against her sensitive flesh in the same slow and deliberate way he had kissed her. She might have said there would only be one night, but he was making sure to imprint their time onto her soul so she never forgot a second of it.
Her fingers dug into his back as he gradually slid inside her.
She pulled him close, needing him deep, but he clearly had no intention of rushing anything given his measured movements.
Her craving for him only grew as her body stretched the deeper he went.
Just when he was fully within her, he pulled out until only the tip of him remained.
She forced her eyes open and found him gazing down at her.
Tremors coursed through his arms, telling her he was driving himself as mad as he was her.
Mason was nothing like other men. Everything about him was meaningful and substantial.
She should’ve known sex with him would be just as evocative and earth-shattering.
He gave a small thrust of his hips and slid deep inside her, burying himself completely.
At last, their bodies were finally, irrevocably joined.
It felt as if the Universe let out a sigh.
Then he was moving, driving in and out of her body in a rhythm that sent pleasure spreading through her like wildfire, fierce and unrelenting.
She shoved away the covers as their bodies rocked against each other. Their lips tangled in a fierce, hungry kiss. Then he rolled onto his back, taking her with him. His hands stroked down her back to cup her ass and grind into her. She groaned, lost in ecstasy. Had she really only said one night?
Rowen sat up, slowly running her fingers over his chest. She had bathed blood from those hard muscles, wiped it from his wide shoulders while trying not to notice him. Now, she was able to touch him as she had wanted to that first night. Learning his body, absorbing his warmth.
Feeling his passion.
He flattened one of his large hands over her stomach and caressed upward.
She held his gaze as his hand slid into the valley between her breasts.
Her nipples puckered, eager for his touch.
He cupped one and rubbed his thumb over the turgid peak.
Her head dropped back as she sighed, arching her back to press her breast into his palm while moving her hips in slow circles.
A deep, guttural groan filled the room. In the next instant, he sat up and closed his lips around a nipple, pulling softly. She grasped his shoulders and lifted her head as their bodies continued to move.
His tongue licked, laved, and suckled first one breast and then the other until she was quivering in his arms. Pleasure coiled low in her belly, growing heavier and tighter with every second.
She found herself on her back once more, Mason over her as he thrust hard and deep in a steady, driving rhythm.
The climax built quickly and crashed through her swiftly.
The breath locked in her lungs as pleasure surged fast and sharp, stealing control and unraveling her.
Even as she rode the delicious waves, she knew she would never be the same.
Mason’s touch had changed her, altered her to her very core.
Rowen screamed his name as a second orgasm rocked her. She had been unprepared for another and could only hold on to the man who shattered every one of her defenses.