Chapter 43
forty-three
“Show off,” Rowan teases as he shifts to face me, crouched low beneath the surface. I know this because I’m also squatting, my feet touching the bottom.
“You know you love it,” I fire back with a flirty grin.
Rising to my feet, I raise my arms and push my hair away from my face, twisting it before letting fall against my back. The move makes my breasts rise and jiggle, instantly shifting Rowan’s gaze from my face to my chest.
My breath catches, a wave of intense heat flashing over me when I see his expression turn from playful to predatory in less than half a second.
If I wasn’t standing in a pool full of cool water, I’d probably spontaneously combust.
Shit. Is it just me, or did the water level just rise because of the wetness pooling between my legs?
The air crackles, pinging like a live wire in what little is left in the space between us. Sucking in a breath, I release it slowly as he moves in close.
“What are you doing, Sunshine?”
“Um—nothing?” I answer, trying my best at nonchalant by swiping at a rogue drop of water sliding down my cheek.
Please. Like he didn’t literally just watch you thrust your tits in his direction.
“Sure ‘bout that? That blush on your neck says otherwise.”
Uh oh. Never have been much good at nonchalant.
The grin he gifts me is smug as fuck as he rises to his feet. Water sluices down his chest, over the tribal sun tattoo, and down his washboard abs before disappearing back into the depths of the saltwater pool.
Wanting to take the heat off me, I give him a once-over. “You gonna tell me the story behind that?”
Rowan glances down at his tattoo. When he looks at me, his eyes have softened a little.
“You want to touch it?”
Even though his words sound casual, there’s an underlying edge to the tone of his voice. A rough kind of growl that, despite the heat, makes little goosebumps rise on my arms.
Feeling a little on the brazen side because, yup, that’s just how I roll, I don’t say a word.
Holding perfectly still, he watches as I slowly inch my way closer. My eyes flick from the pulse throbbing at his neck back to the tattoo on his pec. Drops of water cling to his skin, making the dark ink shine in the bright afternoon sun.
Tan, smooth skin gleams, shifting with every labored rise and fall of his chest.
When I’m less than an inch away, I lose my nerve. All I can do is look up into his hooded, heat-filled gaze.
“Well? What are you waiting for? he asks, voice gruff. Then he lowers it even further. “Go ahead. Touch it.”
Instead of doing what he says, I reach out and touch his arm. The muscle in his biceps twitches when my fingers, light as air, skim ever so slowly up to his shoulder.
A barely there low growl vibrates from deep inside his chest, and it almost makes me flinch away when I glance up to see his nostrils flare in response.
Tracing the line of his collarbone to the divot in his throat, I make my way down to the permanent picture embedded in his skin.
Eyes blazing, he holds perfectly still as I splay my hand over his pec, heartbeat wild beneath my palm.
“Tell me,” I whisper.
Muscles softening a bit when he blows out what sounds like a cleansing breath, I barely hear his softly murmured words.
“It’s you.”
His husky, needy rasp burrows itself deep into my throbbing core and my head jerks up in surprise.
“What do you mean, it’s me? It’s a su—”
Then it hits me.
Sunshine.
This tattoo is... me?
Bolder than ever, I drag my hand down to his waist and step into him smashing my breasts against him. “You got this for me?”
He exhales a small, shaky breath and nods as his hands curl into fists.
Is he trying not to touch me?
I tilt my head up, daring him with my eyes. “What’s the matter, Ro? Cat got your tongue?”
“No, but it’s about to take yours.”
Grabbing both my wrists, he winds them behind my back, pushing me to the infinity edge and kisses me deeply. Greedily feasting on my mouth, he sucks on my tongue, nipping at my lips as if they’re the last key to his survival.
Wrenching myself free, I thread my hands into his wet hair, forcing him even closer.
“Fuck, Izzy,” he groans, water sloshing as he grips my ass and lifts me up, setting me on the edge. “You drive me so fucking crazy, you know that?”
The sudden move makes me gasp. But the sound is quickly swallowed by his hungry mouth as he claims my lips again.
Wrapping my legs around his waist, I tug him against me.
Large hands slide up my stomach, fingers brushing the undersides of my breasts through the wet fabric of my bikini top before they cover them and squeeze.
His thumbs circle my nipples through the thin fabric until they harden into tight peaks.
I moan, arching into his touch as he tugs the triangles aside, leaving me bare to his gaze.
“Mmm, so fucking gorgeous.”
He dips his head, lips grazing my neck as he kneads my flesh, sending shivers racing down my spine when his tongue laves at my skin. “You taste good, too.”
I can’t fucking think straight with his mouth on me like this, all hot with need. My fingers dig into his shoulders as he works his way down, teeth scraping gently across my collarbone.
“Rowan,” I gasp as he takes a nipple into his mouth, rolling the barbell with his tongue.
Keeping one hand firmly at the small of my back, he slides the other around my hip and down into my bikini bottoms. When his thumb finds my clit, I nearly fly off the edge of the pool.
“Fuck,” I gasp, head falling back as he circles my sensitive bundle of nerves. I’m already embarrassingly wet, and not from the pool water.
“There’s my sunshine girl,” he encourages, voice rough with need. “Let me feel how much you want this.”
Just as he shoves a finger into my slick heat, an automated female voice blares from out of nowhere.
“Visitor requesting entry at main gate.”
We freeze, my eyes flying open to meet Rowan’s equally startled gaze.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I groan, reluctantly unwinding my legs from around his waist.
Pupils blown wide, the look on Rowan’s face tells me the last thing he wants to do is let anyone in. “They can wait,” he growls, leaning in to recapture my lips.
“Visitor requesting entry at main gate.”
With a frustrated growl, he adds another finger, making me moan and thrust against his hand. Less than a minute later, just as my inner walls start to flutter in anticipation…
“Visitor requesting entry at main gate.”
“Shit,” he mutters against my mouth. “Guess they’re not gonna give up. I should probably get that.”
I lean away, yanking my bikini top back into place with shaky hands. “Who else knows you’re home other than your agent and assistant?”
“Good question,” he grumbles, helping me adjust my top.
He takes a step back, running a hand through his damp hair in obvious frustration. “Wait here. I’ll get rid of whoever it is.”
I watch as he hoists himself out of the pool, water cascading down his body. Wet swim trunks cling to his ass and thighs as he grabs a towel, wrapping it around his waist before heading over to a small panel near the sliding glass door.
Pressing a button, he barks, “What?”
“Hey! It’s me!” a female voice chirps. “Surprise!”
Rowan’s entire body stiffens. “Carrie?” he asks, voice tight. “What are you doing here?”
My stomach drops. Carrie? As in Carrie Southern? His alleged supermodel ex-girlfriend? The same woman whose face I’ve been Insta-stalking online?
“I just got back from my shoot in Milan and thought I’d swing by! I’ve been dying to catch up. Come on. Let me in.”
My heart pounds as I slide back into the pool, trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible.
“This isn’t really a good time, Carrie,” Rowan answers gruffly.
Shit. I can see the tension in his muscles from all the way over here.
“Oh, don’t be silly! I won’t stay long. I just want to show you the photos from my Vogue shoot. You said you wanted to see them, remember?”
Rowan glances back at me, his expression full of apology and frustration. I give him a small shrug, trying to act like I don’t care even though my stomach is in knots.
“Fine,” he finally states into the intercom. “Give me a minute.”
He presses another button and then walks back over to me. “I’m so sorry,” he says, crouching at the edge of the pool. “She wasn’t supposed to be back until next week.”
“It’s fine,” I lie, crossing my arms over my chest. “You’re just friends, right?”
His eyes search mine. “Yes, but—”
“Then go let her in. I’ll just... hang out here.”
“Are you sure?”
I force a smile. “Of course.”
Another lie. The last thing I want is some statuesque supermodel—who actually has more history with Rowan than I do at this point—invading our bubble.
He hesitates only for a second before leaning down to press a quick kiss to my lips. “This won’t take long. I promise.”
Heart hammering, I watch as he disappears inside the house. Part of me wants to dive underwater and stay there until she leaves. Instead, I get out, pad over to the rack of towels, and quickly wrap myself up.
Moments later, I hear voices coming from inside. Taking a deep breath, I decide to face this head-on rather than hiding like some insecure twat.
As I slide open the glass door and step into the living room, my eyes immediately land on her. And holy hell in a handbasket, she’s even more stunning in person.
Carrie Southern is standing in the middle of Rowan’s living room as if she’s always belonged there, all endless legs and perfect skin.
Blonde hair falls in beachy waves around her slim shoulders.
Not to mention she’s wearing a peach-colored sundress that makes her look like she just stepped out of the pages of a magazine.
Which—given the fact she just got back from a shoot in Milan—she probably did.
They both turn to look at me when I tentatively make my way further into the room. Suddenly I’m acutely aware of how I must look—wet, stringy hair, no makeup, wearing nothing but a bikini under my towel.
“Oh!” The supermodel’s perfectly sculpted brows rise in surprise. “I didn’t realize you had company.”