Chapter 30 #3
The door clicked shut behind them, and Rowan carried her to the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he was savoring every second.
The mattress dipped beneath them as he knelt on it, still cradling her against him, his mouth finding hers again in a kiss that was softer this time, and much, much sweeter.
She could feel the tremor in his hands as he lowered her onto the sheets, his body following hers down until he was braced over her, his weight supported on his forearms, his hips settling between her thighs.
She could barely make out the way his dark hair fell across his forehead and how his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks.
He was beautiful like this…undone, his control fraying at the edges, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts as she reached up to trace her fingers along the line of his jaw and the shape of his lips.
“Rowan.” His name was a prayer on her lips, a plea for words she didn’t know how to ask for… but he did.
“I love you, Enya. I love you.”
“God, Rowan, I love you too, so much.”
He answered her with his body, his mouth trailed down her throat, and his teeth grazed the sensitive skin just above her collarbone.
She arched into him, her fingers tangling in his hair, her legs wrapping around his hips as he rocked against her, the friction sending sparks skittering through her veins.
His hands slid up her thighs, pushing her skirt higher, and she gasped when his fingers found the lace of her underwear, his touch feather-light as he traced the edge of it.
“I love you,” he murmured against her skin, his voice a dark velvet rasp. His fingers stilled, waiting.
Her breath came in short, sharp bursts. “I love you, too.”
A low and possessive growl rumbled in his chest, and then his mouth was on hers, his kiss swallowing her gasp as his fingers finally, finally slipped beneath the lace, finding her wet and ready for him.
She cried out against his lips, her back arching off the bed as he touched her, his fingers sure and skilled, coaxing her higher with every stroke.
His thumb circled her clit, his touch firm and unrelenting, and she could feel the orgasm building inside her—a tight, coiled thing ready to snap.
“Rowan, please,” she begged, her nails digging into his shoulders, her body trembling beneath his.
“Shhh,” he soothed, his lips brushing hers, his breath hot and uneven. “I’ve got you, baby. Let go.”
The orgasm crashed over her in a wave of heat and light, her body clenching around his fingers as she came, her cry muffled against his mouth. Rowan didn’t stop, didn’t let up, his touch gentling as she rode out the last tremors, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her skin slick with sweat.
When she finally stilled beneath him, boneless and sated, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there for a long moment before he pulled back just enough to meet her eyes.
His eyes were dark with desire, his pupils blown wide, but there was something else there too, something tender, something that made her heart clench in her chest.
“My turn,” she whispered, her hands sliding down his chest, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.
Rowan caught her wrists, his grip gentle but firm, and shook his head. “Not tonight,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to her lips. “Tonight’s about you.”
She wanted to argue, wanted to tell him that she needed to touch him, to taste him, to give him even a fraction of the pleasure he’d just given her. But the look in his eyes stopped her. He needed to do this his way, and she could and would give him that.
She let him strip her slowly, his hands trembling just slightly as he peeled the dress from her body, his breath catching when she was laid bare beneath him.
She let him kiss every inch of her, his mouth hot and open against her skin, his tongue tracing patterns that made her whimper.
And when he finally settled between her thighs again, his body covering hers, his weight a delicious pressure, she wrapped herself around him, her legs locking at his waist, and her arms tightening around his neck.
He entered her in one slow, deep thrust, his forehead pressed to hers, his breath a ragged gasp against her lips.
She could feel the way he trembled, the way he was fighting to hold on, to make this last, and it undid her.
Because this wasn’t just sex. This was Rowan.
This was the man who had carried her through storms and silence and the weight of her own fears.
This was the man who had kissed her in the dark of a barn office, who looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered in his world.
When he began to move, his hips rolling in a slow, deep rhythm, she matched him stroke for stroke, her body rising to meet his, her breath mingling with his.
The bed creaked beneath them, the sound a steady counterpoint to the wet, slick noises their bodies made, and the soft, desperate sounds spilling from her lips.
“Enya,” His voice broke, his fingers dug into her hips as he buried his face in her neck, his breath hot against her skin. “Fuck, baby—”
She could feel him losing control, his thrusts growing harder, more erratic, and she tightened around him, her nails raking down his back as she tipped over the edge again, her body clenching around him as she came with a cry.
Rowan followed her a second later, his body going rigid above hers, a guttural sound tearing from his throat as he spilled inside her, his hips stuttering against hers.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Their breath came in ragged gasps, their skin was slick with sweat, but all that mattered was how their hearts pounded in sync, their love soared, and their hearts rejoiced.
Rowan’s forehead rested against hers, his eyes closed, his lashes dark against his cheeks.
She could feel the way his heart raced, the way his body still trembled with the aftershocks of his release, and she reached up, her fingers brushing through his hair, her touch gentle.
He exhaled shakily, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, his lips lingering there. “I’ve spent most of my life searching for wings to fly,” his voice rough with emotion. “But now I know, I should have been searching for roots to plant deep into the fabric of a love I never knew could exist, until you.”
Enya smiled, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his back. How could she possibly find the words to answer such a beautiful way of describing their love? She didn’t need to answer. He already knew.
He rolled them over, settling her on top of him. She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his jaw, before lowering her head to his chest with a happy sigh. “Heaven. This has to be what heaven is like.”
“Enya.”
“Hmm.”
“Don’t fall asleep yet.”
WHAT?
He just gave me two freaking orgasms and now expects me not to fall asleep.
Has he gone daft?
“Rowe—”
“Marry me—”
“I’m not sure I’m abl—wait…what?” She scrambled off his chest, and Rowan rolled to one side to pull open the drawer of the bedside table. When he came back to her, he held a small box in his hand.
“The Stronghold was built from the ground up by my great-grandparents. This,” He flipped open the box to reveal a solitaire ring with a stunning pearl at its center, “was her ring. Marry me, build a dream here, a life, a legacy… here with me forev—oomh.”
She flung herself at him and didn’t need to let him finish, “Yes. Yes. Always Yes.”
He crushed her to his chest, his cheek on the top of her head. Thank God, because I don’t want to live in a world where I don’t have you to walk by my side.” He released her and reached for her hand to slip the ring on her finger. “I love you, Enya.”
“I love you, too, Rowan.”
As the night wrapped around them, dark and quiet and endless, she curled up next to him and knew that this—this—was exactly where she belonged…forever.