Chapter 8 - Avery
“Got it,” he said once he closed the door behind him.
He held up the tiny purple box.
Plan B.
Because my stepbrother decided it was a good idea to come inside me on the balcony the day before, not knowing if I was on birth control.
I wasn’t.
Rowen followed me to the kitchen, where my glass of water awaited.
It had already been nearly twenty-four hours since he came inside me, thanks to being brought back inside and fucked all day by the damn sex addict.
What he’d done didn’t register in my sex-melted brain until nearly midnight, and Rowen assured me he’d grab some in the morning.
He also admitted to coming inside me at least three more times.
A baby was the last thing we needed.
Stepsiblings raising a kid together? We needed to sort out our own shit before ever considering bringing life into a world more fucked up than we were.
“Thank you.”
He peeled the box open and extended his hand, the small white pill in his palm.
I stared at it for a moment then swallowed it.
“Good girl,” Rowen murmured as he came closer, a fresh cup of coffee in his hand.
I felt relieved, like I could breathe knowing it was taken care of.
He took a sip of his hot drink then lifted me onto the counter. The cold surface was like needles on the backs of my thighs.
“Feel better?” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and my entire body reacted, already begging for more of his touch.
“I do. I’m just sore now.”
He smiled, the sadistic part of his soul loving that I was aching because of him. “I’d be more surprised if you said you were totally fine.” He kissed the side of my head. “That you didn’t feel me with every step you take.”
I shifted my position, pushing him away.
“Hey,” he said, leaning back to look me in the eyes. “Everything okay?”
“We need to talk about yesterday.” My voice came out small, like I wasn’t sure of myself. I hated it, the way he made me question everything. “You should’ve pulled out. You always pull out.”
He looked away, his jaw ticking before he pinned me with a dark gaze.
“I couldn’t help it, Av,” he murmured as he ran his hands down my arms, slow, deliberate, like he was trying to memorize the way I felt.
“You felt so good. It was sexy knowing you were full of me all night, even when I wasn’t inside you. ”
“I’m not on birth control, Rowen.”
He didn’t look surprised or worried. He just smirked, and his arms snaked around me, pulling me close.
The heat of his body seeped through our clothes, burning my skin, nearly making me forget why I was so upset to begin with.
He grabbed my chin, lifting until I was looking up at him, his eyes darker than ever.
“I’ll take care of that,” was all he said before planting a firm kiss on my lips.
“What does that mean?” I said, my voice back to being small, wishing he’d kiss me again but knowing I had to stand my ground, get answers.
His grip remained on my chin. “I’ll handle everything. You’ll have your birth control on the doorstep by tomorrow morning.”
“I just don’t want to get pregnant,” I whispered.
“You won’t,” he said just as quietly. “Not until I say so.”
My breath hitched, and I tried to pull away from him, but he held me steady, forcing me to maintain eye contact.
His warm eyes and soft smile didn’t match what he’d just said, what he’d just insinuated.
His love, his obsession, felt heavy, but I knew he didn’t mean anything malicious.
Rowen just wanted to be loved back, as deeply and madly as he loved.
The hand on my chin moved to my inner thigh, rubbing a spot that made my thoughts freeze up and my brain stop working.
“You look tired.” He chuckled.
“I didn’t sleep much.”
His lips were nearly touching mine, so close, I could taste his breath. “That’s my fault, isn’t it?”
The way he said it made my cheeks burn. “Might need different bedrooms if you keep this up,” I joked, but the air shifted.
His eyes changed from dark and dominant to wild and worried. He wrapped both arms around me again, pulling me as close as he possibly could without me crawling inside him, holding me like he didn’t want to let go—couldn’t.
“Are you okay?” I asked, melting into his warmth, reassuring him I was there.
“I’m perfect. I’ve got you.” He kissed the top of my head, tender, lingering.
Was he even aware of the tremor in his arms? The tightness in his voice?
He was scared, but of what?
I wasn’t sure I wanted to ask, not sure I could handle peeling more layers of Rowen back just yet, knowing there was more he’d yet to show me, knowing he was holding himself back for my sake, to protect me, to keep me from leaving.
Was that what he feared?
Because it felt as though he was holding me like he was already losing me.
***
“Rowen, please,” I begged as he grabbed his laptop and shoved it into the bag. “I haven’t left since we got here. Ten days ago.”
He’d been working from home the entire time. When I mentioned groceries, a horde of bags arrived. Any time I mentioned going out for lunch or dinner, take-out would show up at the door. He even had a fancy espresso machine delivered when I groaned about wanting a fancy coffee.
I felt isolated.
Since he lived on the top floor, we didn’t see neighbors. All the delivery people were gone by the time Rowen made it to the door, insisting he be the one to answer it. Even the cleaning lady who’d come twice since I’d been here must’ve been invisible, because I’d yet to see her.
My only solace that other people still existed—other than scrolling through social media and seeing everyone living it up for summer—was sitting on the balcony, watching the cars and people pass by every day. Out there, the constant hum of traffic kept me company.
His eyes met mine, and I knew I was fighting a losing battle.
“I don’t want you wandering the city without me.
You have no idea who’s out there, walking the streets, looking for women to turn into the next Dateline episode,” he said softly, but there was restraint in his tone.
“And you can’t come to work with me.” He pulled me into his embrace.
I didn’t even bother uncrossing my arms.
“I feel like a prisoner up here,” I admitted. “I don’t talk to anyone except you. I still don’t even have clothes. I’ve been wearing yours.”
Rowen offered to take me back to the house for my things, but I was too terrified I’d run into either of our parents.
I wasn’t sure I was ready to face them. Plus, the twenty-three text messages sitting on read that I’d sent to my mother were a clear indication of how she was feeling about everything.
He grabbed my hands. “You look cute wearing my….” He trailed off, noticing my lack of amusement. “Got it.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. “Go online. Buy whatever you want. Whatever makes you happy.”
He handed me a credit card.
“Freedom?” I muttered bitterly. I wiggled out of his grasp and shook one of his arms, as though I could shake some sense into him.
“Come on. Don’t you want to show me off?
” I bit my lip and tilted my chin down to look up through my lashes.
“I want to be seen with you. I want to be somewhere loud and crowded and then come back here and complain about it while you remind me why I like staying in.”
For the first time, he actually hesitated, and hope filled my chest.
His eyes softened as he sighed, interrupting the silence, though they didn’t lose the possessive shadow that was a permanent fixture in them. “I’ll be home at six thirty.” He pulled me close, his hands behind my head and around my waist. “We’ll leave at seven.”
I was elated to the point of dizziness, and suddenly, I wanted to jump his bones, even though we'd already had sex twice before he had to get ready for his day full of meetings.
“I do want to show you off, Av. We can go to my favorite club. I’ll bring home a dress for you to wear.”
“Thank you.” I wrapped my arms around him, relieved I’d finally convinced him to let me out. “I’m so excited. Can you send me the name of the place so I can look at their menu before we go?”
“Of course.” He brushed my cheek with the back of his finger before cradling the side of my head. “I love you, Avery. Text me if you need anything.”
“Yes,” I promised him, leaving those three little words out yet again.
He kissed me, unbothered by my lack of reciprocity. It was hard, claiming. It was the type of kiss that made my lips tingle when he pulled away.
After he left, I stood in the silence for a moment, trying to shake the feeling of being locked in a cell when the door clicked shut. Then, I walked through his—no, our apartment.
The thought of things being ‘ours’ made me smile, and warmth curled in my belly.
I wasn’t his prisoner, but I understood where he was coming from. Rowen’s love for me started years ago. It had time to burrow deep, consume him. It was intense, but it was unconditional.
Some might call it obsessive, but he just loved me. Hard.
At least that’s what I told myself as I curled up on the couch and turned the TV on. I grabbed the blanket that smelled like us, like him, and lied against a pillow, my mind spinning.
So what if I didn’t leave the house? Why would I, when Rowen had everything I needed? Food, a warm bed, birth control. He made sure I was safe and taken care of. He didn’t threaten or hurt me, at least not in a way I didn’t like.
He held me tight, washed my body in the shower, always assuring me everything was okay. He told me he loved me, told me I was his.
It wasn’t control. I could leave at any time now that he was gone. It wasn’t like he locked the doors from the outside or chained me up. All I had to do was turn the knob and step out, use the elevator, and bam, I’d be out.
But I didn’t.
He just wanted me safe, didn’t want to lose me when our story had just begun. It was his way of showing he cared. It wasn’t like he had the best role models. He was trying his best.
After the movie, which only captured half my attention, ended, I went to his closet and looked through his clothes, trying to decide what I wanted him to wear to the club. When I hung his outfit up in the bathroom, I caught sight of my reflection.
Pale. Wide-eyed. Happy.
His.