Seth
I have good news. News Rowan would be excited about, would probably cheer about. But I can’t share it with her, no matter how much I want to—or at least, I shouldn’t.
So, for the first time in a long time, I’m not focused on dating—or more bluntly, sex. I’m still thinking about Rowan, and I don’t know how to stop, but I have other things going on now, things beyond caring for my mom, the gym, and my work at the café.
I guess this is what passion feels like. Rowan would probably be proud of that, too.
We haven’t talked in over a week, and so much is already happening. Planning with Donnie. Gossip at the café. She doesn’t even come in for her morning coffee anymore. Is she brewing at home? Is Maple doing it for her? Or is she driving out of town for her caffeine fix?
I guess it’s none of my business. If she wanted me to know, she would tell me.
But what am I supposed to do when she’s still the one I want to share all my good days with? I can’t stay away.
It’s an out-of-body experience when I knock on her door a few hours after sunset, and to my relief, Rowan is the one who answers. It could have been Laurel taunting me, or Juniper telling me to go home, but it’s her.
She looks more well-rested than the last time I saw her, and…
she’s standing. Healed. Strong. Laurel gave me updates on her injury, and I know she’s feeling better, but the confirmation still makes my shoulders sag with relief.
She probably doesn’t know how hard it was for me to stay away, but the last thing I wanted was to hurt her… again.
Seeing her hurts, and I deserve the pain.
When I thought about coming over, telling Rowan, talking to Rowan…
I didn’t imagine she would look like this.
A silky emerald nightgown clings to her curves, and the lacy slit up one side perfectly shows a flash of her thick, dimpled thigh.
The neckline plunges, revealing a spot I always loved to kiss, to fuck, to suck—
And I swiftly force my attention back up to her face.
That’s safe, except that it isn’t at all, because she’s pissed.
For a second, I’m sure she’s going to slam the door.
Rowan’s anger is subtle and quiet—a narrowing of the eyes, her lips thinning—but I’ve come to know all of her facial expressions way too well.
She rolls her eyes. “My ankle has already healed. You don’t need to check on me.”
I frown, my heart skipping beats as I try to work my way around my words. “That’s not what I’m doing?”
“Then what are you doing here, Seth?”
Rowan may not be the friendliest person, but I’ve never felt more unwelcome than I do now. She hasn’t even invited me inside. Did I make a mistake in coming?
“I… just wanted to catch up, I guess,” I whisper.
A pathetic excuse. I can’t show up like this, with no warning and no real reason to see her. Is it any better that I came to brag about my stupid accomplishments? I doubt it.
She stays there for too long, a marble statue, before finally stepping aside. “Fine. Come in.”
I look around the house—peaceful, something the Hawthorne house so rarely is. “Where is everyone?”
“Laurel is in Hell.”
“Ah…” I chuckle.
“And Juniper is working.”
That means it’s just us. I almost wish someone were around to be a buffer. Instead, we stand in the middle of the living room, more awkward than we’ve ever been.
“Donnie and I are starting a community garden,” I blurt. “It’s—going to take a while, and we have some fundraisers coming up, but I’m excited about it. More than I’ve been about anything in a long time, and… I just wanted to tell you, I guess.”
My face is hot. Maybe it’s from the crackling fire, but I doubt it.
God, I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s embarrassing.
What, I came here to brag about a hobby, one she so obviously doesn’t care about?
The hopes I have of us reuniting once the hex is broken are quickly dissolving.
This was supposed to be a break, but time apart probably reminded Rowan that she’s way too good for me.
Because she is. She’s smart, beautiful, and has her life together. Always miles ahead of me.
Just when my hope threatens to leave the building for good, her expression softens. “That’s really great. I think that will help a lot of people. And it will make you happy, right?”
“Yeah. I think it will. Even though it’s all paperwork and fundraising right now, I’m already having a lot of fun with it.”
“It’s good to see that your hex isn’t disrupting that.”
There’s no bitterness in her words, but there could be. She’s genuine, I think. The hex is getting in the way of my happiness still—it’s still pushing us apart, as far as I can tell—but at least I can build a garden.
“Yeah. I, um… I don’t know. I just wanted to tell someone, and you’re still the one who comes to mind.”
Because I love her. I loved her when she was glaring at me and clearly wanted me to leave, and I don’t think I would stop even if she kicked me out. Rowan has no reason to love me, but I can’t stop loving her, and I don’t want to move on. I don’t even want to think about it.
This isn’t the time to tell her. I shouldn’t even be here. Am I putting her in danger again?
I glance at the door.
When her hand lands on my shoulder and I turn my attention back to her, she’s closer than I expect. There’s a genuine sparkle in her eye. “I mean it. I’m happy for you. And I’m making good changes, too. Changing my rates. Taking on fewer clients. I feel better.”
She feels better now that she’s not with me, now that my hex isn’t harming her. I don’t let myself voice the thought.
My lips tug up at the corners. “Yeah? That’s great. Better than a spa weekend.”
Her hand is still on my shoulder, and she doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to move it. “We didn’t get many spa activities done on our weekend together. Perhaps if we had, it would have done the trick.”
I snort. “Yeah. Maybe.”
I don’t want to leave anymore. I want to melt into her touch. I want to be with her, and I don’t want anything to get in the way of that—of us. When she looks at me like this, I know she wants it too.
And we can’t have that, but maybe we can have one kiss. Maybe I can give her one truth.
“I miss you. So much. You don’t know.”
“Of course, I do.” Her brow wrinkles, and her expression drops. “Don’t you know I miss you too? That I never stopped?”
“I—I don’t see why. I ruined everything.”
“That’s because you’re still not paying proper attention.” She holds my face so tenderly. “I never blamed you, and to me, you’re perfect. Hexed or not.”
I’m no stranger to love, but I’ve never been held quite like this. No one treats me as gently as Rowan does, and no one makes me feel less deserving of it, and I won’t pull away. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. Basking in her love is the easiest thing in the world…
As long as I forget about the one big thing that’s pushing us apart.
For a moment, it’s like nothing else exists.
Her thumb brushes over my lips.
And I am so totally fucking hers. She needs to know it. I need to tell her.
But everything else has always been easier for me. I’ve always been a man of action, I think.
It’s hard to say who takes the leap; maybe we take it together.
Our lips touch—a soft brush. A goodbye kiss.
Maybe that’s what it’s supposed to be, but she clutches my shirt, and I weave my fingers into her hair, and we’re kissing hard.
Breathless. She pins me against a wall, trapping me, and I want to be there.
Want to belong to her. Want to be stuck right here.
She drags hot, wet kisses down my neck, and my body rouses to life when she moves onto her knees, looking up at me. She presses her lips against my bulge, each more desperate than the last.
For once, I don’t make her beg. I give it to her instead.
“Please. Touch me, beautiful. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”
Her fingers move to the waistband of my gray sweatpants, but it seems like there’s something stopping her.
“Have…. Have you been with anyone else?” She doesn’t look away. Doesn’t flinch.
“No.” I stroke my thumb against her cheek. “Only you. From the first time we kissed. It’s you. I don’t want anyone else. I can’t look at anyone else or think about anyone else. Everything I do is for you.”
And seeing that she still wants me, that she wants to possess me, makes me as hard as a ruby. There was a time when those words would make me flee, or at least embarrass me, but that feels like so long ago.
She pulls down my pants in one smooth motion, and everything is so sweet: the way she kisses my cock, the way she’s looking up at me, the sounds she makes against my length. I weave my fingers in her hair, but I let her take charge, let her tease me, licking every inch of me.
Devouring me. Claiming me.
Finally, she takes me into her mouth, and I have to lean against the wall to stay upright.
“Let me hear you.” She removes my length from her mouth. “I want to hear how I make you sound. Don’t be quiet.”
There’s a force behind her words as she takes me in again, deeper, and I couldn’t be quiet if I wanted to. I let out muffled, mangled sounds. As she takes me as deep as she can, my cock hits the back of her throat.
But it can’t be over this soon.
“Wait—wait.” My hips stutter, and I use my grip on her hair to tug her off. “I’m close. Stop.”
There’s a flicker in her eye, and something tells me she wants to torture and tease me, wants to make me come early—which she seems to love doing. But she doesn’t. She lifts her head.
I let out a sigh of relief. Count to ten. Gain my bearings. This won’t end until we want it to end, and judging by the way Rowan looks up at me, she needs more.
“No one’s coming home, right?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
Good. I need to be inside her. This isn’t our last time, I know that, but I need more. We could move to her bedroom, should move there, but I can’t wait another moment. It’s already been too long.
I help her to her feet and lift her with ease, pressing her body against the wall and settling between her thighs.
“I still can’t believe you can do that.” Her fingers trace down my shirt until she pushes it up over my head.
“Shut up. You’re as light as a feather.”
“And you’re ridiculous.”
Our back-and-forth is still so easy, and somehow, it’s the most nostalgic part of this all. Everything slows down. Her lips are swollen and dripping, and she’s never looked more beautiful. Her nightgown bunches up around her thighs, and I tease the head of my cock against her underwear.
We’re lucky I don’t come right then and there.
I brush her hair out of her face and kiss her softly. Instead of filling her, like I so desperately want to, I slip her underwear to the side and rub my fingers against her clit. She sighs into my mouth, and I’m so fucking gone.
“Are you going to let me fuck you?” I press my forehead to hers.
She whimpers and nods.
“Open your eyes.” I rub harder circles on her clit, relishing the soft thrum against my fingertips.
And she listens, her gray gaze meeting mine.
“Are you going to let me make love to you?”
It’s dangerous, too close to admitting the thing I’ve been trying to keep from her, and it’s a wonder Rowan doesn’t pull away.
She nods again.
“Yes. I am.” Her eyes are locked onto mine as she reaches between us and guides my cock into her tight pussy.
I never stop giving her clit the attention it deserves, desperate to make her come—I know I won’t be far behind.
I push my hips, giving her inch by inch. “You feel like home.”
“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
“I mean it.” Capturing her lips, I whimper, my eyes flickering shut as I rotate my hips, letting her feel everything. “Seriously. I mean it. I—”
The words I want to say—three words—break off as her fingers slip into my shirt, her nails raking against my back.
What comes out instead is a deep, guttural groan. “That’s right. Mark what’s yours. I’m yours.”
“You.” She presses her nails harder, her body shaking as I fuck her slowly, never ceasing my motions. “You’re mine. Fill me. Claim me. Make me yours.”
Each word is punctuated with a whiny moan, and I lose my ability to speak as I stare into her eyes and do exactly as she says. Her walls clench around me, taking it all, and I bury my face into the crook of her neck.
Home.