2. Rowan
ROWAN
We flirt like that for several minutes, my hand brushing the now-empty sheath that held his dagger. I like the reminder that this man isn’t what he seems. Danger never used to call to me, but I’m not the same person I once was. I should know to ignore it, but it’s a siren. I can’t resist it.
Besides, this is what I need right now. To play with fire that might burn me a little. Enough to forget.
My fingers skim up the skin of his torso, and I feel the muscles beneath as the easy banter flows between us. His abdomen clenches under my touch. His chest heaves as I drag my fingers down to the waistband of his pants.
The temptation to slide them down rides me hard. Almost as hard as the desire to sink to my knees and take what is, hopefully, a fabulous cock between my lips.
But, of course, we can’t do that here. Not in the middle of Rounds. I may be a patron here, and one who comes very often, but even so, I don’t think they would let me do that out in the open.
No, I want to take him somewhere private, somewhere I can have at it.
At him.
I lift onto my tiptoes with a grace I usually save for the stage. Something about this guy has me wanting to show off. “I know a place…”
He grunts at the heat of my breath against the shell of his ear. “What kind of place?”
The corners of my lips curl up as my fingers clench the front of his jacket. I want to peel him out of it, want to see the body beneath it. I know it’s impressive—from what I can feel, anyway.
This is a man who works out, who takes care of himself.
I want to see it on display, like art in a museum.
I want to be the one to sit back and admire.
“How about you just wait and see?” I ask and then tilt my hips forward, letting my hardening cock grind against his. His lashes flutter, his hands coming up to grab onto my biceps. I feel the cut of his nails against my skin—a bite. A promise.
The things he could do to me… To my body.
I shouldn’t feel safe with him. He’s been watching me from the shadows, and he had a dagger in his belt. But oddly, I do. Safe enough to leave with him, anyway. I don’t think he’ll hurt me.
If he does…well, that thought doesn’t bother me as much as it should. The only thing that can’t take any more pain is my heart, and no fucker is getting near that. Doesn’t matter how hot they are.
I’ve learned my lesson there. It was painful. Soul-destroying.
One I’m determined never to repeat.
Every time I’m happy, life takes it away from me. It happened with my parents. With Adam. Even his sister, Adi.
I’ve lost them all.
I can’t lose anything else.
I step back with a grin. His eyes follow me like I’m prey, like he’s waiting for me to run so he can chase. But I don’t give him the satisfaction. Not yet. I’m far too curious about how this will end.
I’m very hopeful that it will end with me on my back or my side, something pushing into me.
Fingers. Tongue. Cock.
I’m not picky.
Finally, I turn away and make my way back into the club. I can feel him following me, his eyes boring into me as I move. I give an extra sway of my hips to make sure he knows what he’ll be missing if he leaves. And what he’ll get if he stays.
As I near the door, I glance back to check he’s still behind me. He’s close. Closer than expected. His eyes are slightly hooded as he cups my hip, steering me away from a gaggle of women obstructing the exit. I shiver at how his hand feels on me, strong and firm. They drop away faster than I like.
Fuck. I can’t wait to have those hands on me, moving me around a room, ripping my clothes off, pinning me down to a mattress as a part of him tunnels inside of me.
See?
A perfect distraction indeed.
The air is cool as I step outside, and it bites at my exposed skin, making me shiver. Another quick check confirms he’s still following me, his jacket firmly in place. He’s paying more attention than I realized, because a moment later that jacket is around my shoulders.
Cedarwood and amber. Fuck, even his scent is intoxicating.
I don’t even know his name.
That should be a problem, something I should care about, but I’m not going to rectify it.
I doubt I’ll ever see this man again. The less we know about each other, the better.
Tonight will be enough to keep me occupied for days to come. Then I’ll have to find my next distraction. I always move on easily. It’s never hard to forget the men I meet.
That’s me. Always moving.
I stop at the curb, looking right and left before jogging across, his hand moving to my arm and pulling me toward him when I get a little too far away.
The smile won’t leave my lips. Does he even realize he’s doing it?
I don’t understand why. He’s just going to use and discard me after a night of fun.
Same as I’m going to do with him.
I’ll never admit it, but I like how oddly protective this stranger is of me. It’s a feeling I could become addicted to.
But I won’t.
I stop in front of the motel I plan to take him to, the one where I know the manager and can easily get a room by the hour. Not usually for hookups, but occasionally. When the need arises. And it has arisen.
I am aroused.
My partner for the night hums, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the loosely hanging door. “This place is…interesting. Do you take every stranger you meet here?”
“Maybe. Would it bother you if I did?” I ask, far too sweetly, almost sickly so. If he tells me that it bothers him, I may have to usher him out the door we’ve just entered.
But luckily he just cocks his head with a smirk. “Nope. Don’t give two shits.”
I like that answer. Like it even more when he crowds up behind me and his hand slides against my hip, pulling me into him.
I wriggle back just as the motel manager rounds the corner, an older woman of indeterminate age. But she’s always kind to me and always gives me the nicer rooms.
The ones without holes in the walls or carpet missing from the floor.
“Hey, Bets.”
“Hello,” she says, her crooked smile not quite reaching her eyes when she gazes at the man behind me. “Didn’t expect to see you tonight. Did you have a show?”
“Just a practice. Then went out dancing. Axe throwing. All the things.”
She eyes the man still behind me and then utters, “He is an excellent axe thrower.”
It’s a way to warn him off, to tell him that I can defend myself.
It’s sweet. There’s absolutely no way I could actually fend this guy off if he really wanted to hurt me.
Especially with that dagger at his waist, the one he pulled from the target with ease before we left, but I don’t say that.
I just lean over the counter a little, my ass pressed tightly against his crotch, feeling the hard bulge there. “Give me a room? Just need an hour.”
The man behind me growls. “Could be longer than that.”
I grin over my shoulder at him. “You think so? I don’t know about that. Most men think they have stamina until they meet me.”
His eyes narrow. “Maybe you have low expectations.”
“Maybe I do. But I’ve never had anyone prove otherwise.”
His tongue swipes over his lip. “Challenge accepted.”
When Bets hands me the key, he swipes it from my palm, leading me outside with an assurance that I didn’t know was possible. Or maybe I did. Maybe I knew all along, and that’s why I lured him over here.
To see what he is capable of.
A man of mystery. Someone I hope will surprise me.
I’m so tired of being disappointed.
The door opens, a bang of metal on sheetrock, and then the light flickers on, showing off the worn furnishings and the dingy wallpaper. It has charm if you squint slightly. Okay, a lot.
I turn to face the man whose name I still don’t know.
He cocks his head and his hand goes to the dagger at his side. He pulls it from its sheath and holds it in his palm. My heart ticks up, thudding in my ears, but he just sets the dagger down on the rickety table with a small clatter.
He stares at it, and I do too. My pulse thuds a beat in my ear.
“Why do you carry that around?” I ask, my finger reaching out to touch it before retracting slightly.
“Safety. Obligation… Tradition.”
It’s my turn to cock my head, my shoulders shrugging out of his jacket, and I drape it across the chair beside me. “Sounds complicated.”
“You have no idea,” he says, his words low and unsure. It’s just for a moment before he stands up a little straighter, his hands fisted by his sides, his stance widening. Almost like he thinks I’ll run.
I’m tempted. That sounds fun. But not as fun as getting him inside me as fast as possible.
So, instead, I step toward the bed. I don’t break eye contact with him as I slowly strip. My shirt goes first. Then my pants. My ankle socks. I stop when all that’s covering me is the pink lace thong I chose to wear.
Maybe this was always how I planned to end the night. I must’ve instinctively known this would happen.
I didn’t think I’d be sharing the bed with a man as gorgeous as the one before me.
His pupils dilate as they run over me. They linger on the sheet music tattooed into my skin before dipping lower. His breath rasps as he finds my bulge, the underwear struggling to contain it.
The tension in the air thickens. Lust and something else. Apprehension. Need. And maybe a little bit of understanding.
Of what this is and who we are. Or who we want to be.
I crawl up onto the bed and arch my hips back, feeling the lace fabric slide up the crack of my ass. I hear him breathe deeply, a rattle of longing in his chest.
But he doesn’t approach.
I glance back over my shoulder at him, beckoning him with a pout of my lips. “Don’t you want this?”
His eyelids droop, and he steps toward me, his hands unclenching from his sides, his brow furrowed as he nears.
Heat is emanating off him. My skin erupts with goose bumps as he grows closer and closer.
And closer.
But then he stops.
Nothing happens.
He doesn’t come nearer. He doesn’t touch me.
He just stands over me, breathing, watching.