Milo #2
I instantly try to sit up, but the ropes only allow me to lift my head enough to look at his face. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head?”
Rowan lets another wince slip. His eyes are squeezed tight. I’m not sure if it’s intentional, but his hands tighten around my waist and remind me that I’m lying completely on top of him with my body pressed against every single one of his hard edges.
A large bulge is pressing against my lower stomach, which shouldn’t be surprising since he’s huge everywhere else, why not there?
Rowan groans once more, his lids open, and he tilts his head slightly so he can see me. “I’m fine. Are you hurt anywhere?” he asks gruffly.
I hear the question, but I’m distracted. It’s the first time I’m seeing his eyes this close, and even if his pupils are currently dilated—from the adrenaline, no doubt—I’m still able to see the myriad of colors peeking through the edges.
“Beautiful,” I find myself murmuring.
“What?” Rowan squeaks. Hearing the higher pitch from him has me smiling.
“Your eyes,” I clarify, and while I do find the man himself beautiful too, I should probably keep my mouth shut about that. “I thought they were green or blue, but they’re not either. There’s blue, green, brown, and gray. They’re everything. The most beautiful thing I’ve seen.”
“They’re just hazel,” Rowan corrects, but color tints his skin. The urge to trace the color with my tongue is loud in my head.
“You must have gotten hurt and hit your head if you’re thinking like that,” Rowan teases.
“Maybe I am hurt,” I say slowly. Rowan is immediately on alert until I add, “I think you’ll have to kiss me and make it better.”
“W-what?” Rowan stutters, then his hazel eyes are wide, the black almost fully blown. “We shouldn’t.”
The words are a whisper of logic and nothing else.
“I’m not hearing a no,” I say just as softly. The ropes are tight around us, but I try to wiggle further up his body in tiny motions.
“Stop moving, Milo. Milo.”
My name is a prayer on his lips, and his hands clasp tightly around me like a last hope, but it’s the large bulge hardening against my stomach that’s the final sin calling for salvation.
“Say you don’t want to kiss me, Rowan,” I dare. I’m still inching closer, locking in on my target.
Rowan’s lips stay decisively closed and only part when my lips meet his. The kiss is electrifying, a mix of song and light, and I’m left breathless like it’s my first kiss.
Rowan’s breathing heavily, too, and his eyes are on me again. There are too many emotions in them to decipher, but I see the want clearly.
I’m probably looking at him the same way.
“We shouldn’t,” Rowan murmurs again.
“Yeah,” I agree, but I’m already leaning back in for more, and Rowan meets me just as hungrily.
Everything else disappears besides the warm body I’m entangled with and the hot caress of Rowan’s tongue that sends sparks down my spine. A hint of leather catches my nose and makes me lightheaded.
Somewhere in the back of my head, in a voice that sounds awfully like Ray’s, is my rationality telling me I should stop. I should not be kissing Rowan, but I probably shouldn’t have jerked off while thinking about him either, and that turned out to be the best orgasm in months.
Maybe I’m just sex-deprived, or, hell, touch-deprived, because my body is calling for Rowan like it’s the oxygen it needs to survive.
Is it possible to want someone so badly? I don’t know, but I’m hard and needy for him, and I think I might die if those lips stop kissing me.
Life is set to prove me wrong, because a loud beeping rings out in the room, startling me, and has me pulling back. Lo and behold, Rowan’s lips leave me, and I’m still alive and breathing.
The only thing that dies is the hope of more kisses, because Rowan is now refusing to meet my eye. My stomach drops, and the grating voice of our instructor praises us for the good job we did that round, effectively bringing us back to reality.
“We should get ourselves untangled,” Rowan says calmly.
“Rowan,” I say softly. Now I’m the one begging.
“We need to check for any injuries.”
He still refuses to look at me.
“Rowan,” I try again, and maybe it’s the desperation in my tone that has him finally looking at me.
I’m not prepared for the hardness that meets me. It’s like the first time we’re meeting again, and he’s a blank sheet of professionalism. All hints of the Rowan I’ve gotten to know these past couple of days are gone, and that guts me more than being unable to kiss him.
“That was a mistake. It can’t happen again,” he says mechanically.
The words slice deep. I never realized that, despite being pressed as close together as two beings could be, the wall he’s built could make it feel like we’re separated by an entire ocean.
I don’t reply.
I can’t.
It’s not often I’m left speechless, and Rowan has successfully done it more than once. It’s another surprise from him, one that I’m not a fan of.
Probably seeing I’m not saying anything, Rowan carefully rolls us to our side and makes quick work of untangling the ropes from us. He’s so eager to get away from me that he’s shooting to his feet as soon as he frees himself.
“We should check to make sure you don’t have any injuries,” he says and offers me a hand.
I slap it away because pain is the last thing I’m feeling. I’m angry—hurt, too, yes—at him, at me, at the entire situation. None of this is his fault, but anger is the easiest emotion to process right now.
“I’m fine,” I grit out. This time, I’m the one who’s unable to look at him. I feel like an idiot for wanting to kiss him so desperately, and for throwing a tantrum now that one of us has come to his senses.
Rowan is probably speechless at how childish I can be and doesn’t reply. The only sound in the room is our instructor encouraging us on the round they’re currently on.
His encouragement is pissing me off at this moment. His voice is pissing me off so much that I don’t think I’ll be able to stomach another video from him again.
There’s still silence from Rowan, and I manage a peek at him. He’s watching me with dark eyes, and now I’m too far to see the shifts of color in them.
“I’m gonna get out of your hair,” he says quietly.
“Wait, what? You’re leaving? Just like that?”
He nods. “I think it’s best if we spend some time apart to cool down. I’ll be back later to escort you to visit Ethel.”
I’m stunned. Never did I think he would just run away with his tail between his legs. Worst of all, I don’t want him to leave me alone like this, but I can’t find the courage to voice it.
“You’re going to bleed if you keep chewing on your lip like that,” he says softly, and the care in his tone kills me.
I hadn’t even realized I was chewing on it, but the instant he points it out, I register the pain and taste of copper from where my teeth broke skin.
I want to scream at him to stop confusing me. He can’t show me care, then push me away like I mean nothing. He needs to pick one, but I don’t say that because I know the one he’ll choose is not the one I want.
“See, you’re bleeding. I’ll get some—”
“I’m fine,” I say again.
Maybe if I say it enough, it’ll become true.
Rowan nods, and with one last look, turns and leaves the room. A few minutes later, I hear the ding of the elevator, and I know he’s gone.
I’m left sitting there, still feeling like the rug has been pulled out from under me.