23. Groveling Campaign
GROVELING CAMPAIGN
R owan
The moment I’d gotten Aspen’s text, I’d cleaned my hand, unwrapping it, and then began staring at my phone screen for what felt like years when I finally heard a car pull up in my driveway. Racing to the door, I threw it open to find Aspen climbing out of Ivy’s green bug.
“Yeah, I’ll call you later,” she told her. Aspen said something else I couldn’t hear, but she pointed over toward me and then closed the car door. Ivy was staring at me through her windshield. It was clear she was nervous, and I immediately felt even more guilty than I was already feeling.
I knew what I’d done to Aspen was wrong, and I didn’t even have a good excuse past wanting to love her and take care of her.
Nothing she’d screamed at me in the bar had been true—she was a strong, incredible woman.
She wasn’t weak in the least, and I planned on spending the rest of my life proving to her that I meant every word of it.
Part of me wanted to just show her the damn tattoo—as if that would just prove to her that I was all in this with her for the right reasons. But somehow that didn’t feel like the right move either.
Aspen climbed the steps and walked past me into the house. I awkwardly waved to Ivy and turned to follow her inside. She stopped in the living room and just stood there, looking around. Something was wrong—something beyond what happened with us. I didn’t know how I knew, but I knew.
“What’s going on, little angel?” I asked carefully.
She didn’t speak for a full minute, only to turn and look at me, expressionless. “You have a guest room, right?”
“Uh, yeah, but why would you need it?” I asked, confused.
I could tell she had her guard up. It was like when we’d first met, only worse. Probably because she had a reason not to trust me now. The only thing I couldn’t make sense of was why she’d come here if she didn’t trust me.
“So where is it?” she asked, ignoring my question completely.
“Can we talk about this, please? You don’t need my damn guest room, Aspen.” I could feel my anger rising, and I hated it. I valued my ability to keep my cool in just about any situation, but she wasn’t talking to me, and I knew something more was going on other than our fight at The Roadhouse.
“No. No, we can’t. You lost that right when you invaded my past, my home, and crossed so many damn boundaries—” she released a long breath.
“Now, where the fuck is the guest room, Rowan? Or should I just start looking for myself?” She sounded angry and tired.
I stared at the ground for a few seconds, letting out a deep breath to try to wrangle my temper back in.
I knew fighting with her wasn’t going to help anything.
She needed sleep, and then I’d make her talk to me tomorrow.
“Come on,” I finally said. I walked up the stairs and stopped across the hall from my room.
Opening the door, I let her walk in first. This was one of the few spaces I’d let Payton help me decorate.
It was set up as a guest room. A queen-size bed sat in the middle of the left wall.
It was made of whitewashed wood and had an olive-green bedspread, with matching white side tables and a dresser on the opposite side wall.
The windows matched the ones in my room, large rectangles, only these had sheer olive-green curtains that matched the blankets.
“This is it. There’s no bathroom, but there is one down the hall if you need it.
You already know, but my room is the next door down if you need anything and want to talk,” I trailed off, not sure what else to say.
“Okay, thanks,” she muttered and walked out of the door frame to leave me space to get the fuck out—at least that’s how it felt.
I wanted to scoop her up and take her to my bed, to refuse to let her leave until she talked to me.
But I knew that wouldn’t result in what I wanted.
So instead, I just nodded and gave her space, letting her close the door behind me.
By eleven that night, I was chomping at the bit to see her.
Knowing she was in my house but just out of reach was a new sort of torture I hadn’t yet endured.
So, I tossed and turned in my bed for another three hours before deciding to finally call it quits.
If she wasn’t going to come into my room, I’d just go to her.
I slid out of bed, sliding on a pair of black boxer briefs, and quietly left my room.
I stood outside her door for a moment, trying to listen and see if she was awake or not before I went barging in.
Quietly opening the bedroom door when I heard nothing, I was pleased to find it was unlocked at least. She was lying on her side, facing the windows, curled up into a ball.
Seeing her like that had my heart clenching.
I wanted nothing more than to understand where her head was at and what caused it to go there.
Pressing the door closed behind me, I walked over and slowly shifted the blankets so I could slide in behind her.
I left my boxers on, not trying to force her even more than I’m sure this would.
Curling up behind her, I gently placed my arm around her waist, pulling her back to my front and burying my face in her hair.
She still smelled like paint and what I was starting to think was jasmine. One day I’d ask her, but right now, I was just pleased that she seemed to relax in my arms.
“I don’t remember inviting you in here, cowboy,” she whispered, her voice groggy with sleep.
I chuckled softly. “You didn’t, but I couldn’t stay away, little angel,” I whispered back.
“I’m still mad at you, so don’t misunderstand.
When we wake up, I’m going back to being angry.
You’re gonna grovel, and you’re going to do so quite a bit.
But…it’s been a long night, and I just want to feel safe,” she said, her voice sounding more and more broken as she spoke. “So you can stay—for now.”
I pulled her body closer to me and tightened my arms around her waist. “I’m here, Aspen. I’m not going anywhere,” I said quietly, and I meant every single word of it.
I couldn’t leave this woman if my life depended on it; this entire night proved that even further to me.
She was mine. She had been since the moment she told that jack ass at the bar that I was her boyfriend.
I hadn’t given up that claim, and the only time I intended to was when I upgraded her from girlfriend to wife, maybe mother of my children one day—if she wanted kids.
I’d give her anything she wanted; she just had to name it.
I’d spent years telling myself that I couldn’t risk love, because I couldn’t handle the heartbreak that might follow if something were to happen to her.
But what I realized when she ran out of the bar tonight was that what I truly couldn’t handle was the thought of going my entire life without the opportunity to fully love Aspen Woodluck for as long as the gods above allowed.
She was mine, and I’d do whatever was necessary to ensure I was able to show her how much I loved her—forever.
I laid there, listening to her deep breathing as it lulled me to sleep.
It felt like mere moments, but it must’ve been hours based on the sunlight that was streaming through the sheer curtains when I forced my eyes open.
But the sun wasn’t what dragged me to consciousness.
Aspen was mumbling in her sleep, twitching slightly.
I sat up enough to look down at her face, and when I noticed tears running down her cheeks, I started running my hand up and down her thigh, her side, her arm.
Everything I could reach without startling her.
“Little angel, I’m right here,” I whispered as I gently kissed along her shoulder. I didn’t want to scare her. I just wanted her to slowly wake up and come back to me. “It’s just a dream, love. Let’s wake up.”
After a few minutes of repeating those words like a mantra, her breathing calmed, and she opened her eyes. We didn’t speak, but I didn’t stop rubbing her side as she woke up. I continued gently pressing kisses to her shoulder, whispering sweet thoughts into her ear as I did.
I only stopped when she slowly rolled onto her back, her red-rimmed eyes staring up at me.
“Today I’m back to being mad at you,” she said, her voice still groggy and thick from a crappy night's sleep.
I smiled sadly. “I understand. May I begin my plan to win you back now?” I asked, my hand running down her stomach and stopping just above her sleep shorts.
She stared at me for a brief moment before biting her bottom lip and giving me a quick nod.
I let out a relieved breath and smirked.
“Thank the gods above for that,” I murmured as my hand slipped beneath her shorts and into her heat between her thighs.
I ran my fingers gently over her before dipping between her folds.
“Are you already wet for me, little angel?” I asked as I leaned down, kissing her shoulder again, wishing she were already naked for me so I could access all of her.
But something told me I needed to take this slower than I normally would, so that was what I’d do.
She let out a quiet moan as I slowly slid a finger inside of her. “I’ll take that as confirmation that all of this is for me.” I smiled and added another finger, slowly curling them toward me to hit that spot I knew she loved.
“Don’t get cocky, cowboy,” she said through whimpers. Her back arched slightly, her hips bucking towards me, her eyes closed.
“Ah, eyes on me, little angel. I want you to see whose fingers you’re about to come all over,” I quietly growled, as if by keeping our voices quiet we could stay in this perfect bubble forever.
“I’m not about to co—” she began, but quickly stopped speaking when my thumb pressed down on her clit, running circles around it.
“That’s right, quiet now. I want to see you come apart,” I told her as we locked eyes.
That seemed to push her over the edge, though, because she stopped breathing for a moment as her core clenched around my fingers, and she came.
I slowed my movements down as she came back down, slowly blinking at me.
She watched as I pulled my fingers from her cunt and slowly licked each one of them clean of her deliciousness.
“Fuck, easily my favorite breakfast to dine on,” I muttered.
I smiled as a blush crept up her cheeks and she pulled the pillow out from under her head and smacked me with it, before using it to cover her face. I pulled it from her, tossed it to the floor, and kissed her forehead.
“I’m going to start you a bath and then go make us some breakfast,” I said happily and started to stand up, but she grabbed my wrist.
“What about you?” she asked, glancing down at my tented boxer briefs.
I cleared my throat because internally my dick was thinking that same thing, but he’d have to get over it. I came back and gently pressed my lips to her, pulling away before I could take it further like I wanted to.
“This wasn’t about me. This was about you, little angel. Now, I’m starting a bath in my room for you—the tub is better in there. Then, when you’re done, my groveling campaign continues with breakfast.”
She stared at me, her eyebrows pinched in confusion, but she nodded in response. So I hopped up and went to start my stunning woman a bath—which wasn’t to grovel, it was just because she deserved it.