Chapter 15
Natalia
The nine of us ate dinner in Lana and Christian’s dining room. I’m so happy for her. I mean, shit, he bought her that fucking house and furnished it perfectly. I never thought Christian would be great at interior design, but it seems like he knows what he’s doing.
Whenever I decide to buy a house, I’ll be sure to reach out to him.
I sat in one corner beside Isa and Julian, playing patty-cake with Grace on my lap while the adults talked about holiday plans. Every so often, I caught Rowan’s eye, but then I tore my gaze away quickly.
Once the night was over, he walked me to my car and said goodnight with a brush of his lips across my temple while no one was looking. Of course everyone knows, but these moments are ours.
My thighs clench together unconsciously as I park in a free spot just down the block.
I wouldn’t be surprised if Rowan followed me home again to make sure I got in safe.
I’ve always known he does that—that he still does sometimes—and I can’t say that I hate it.
Sometimes, I look for him in my rearview mirror.
Tonight, though, he isn’t behind me. And the disappointment of not seeing his SUV in my rearview mirror twists everything in my gut. I check again and find my neighbor’s old Toyota parked behind me. No Rowan tonight, I suppose.
With a sigh, I grab my bag and hang it on my shoulder as I hop out the car. The street lamp across the street flickers like ghosts whispering their secrets into the dark, telling truths even I can’t say.
My car beeps and the lights flash after I press the lock button on the key fob and I place one foot directly in front of the other—heel to toe—walking the few hundred feet to the front of my building. I count each step, telling myself that I don’t miss him. That I don’t wish he was here.
There’s a secret for the ghosts.
“Did you enjoy your girl talk?”
I gasp at the deep voice and nearly lose my footing. “Oh my god, Rowan, what the fuck? You don’t scare a girl like that!”
“I’m sorry.” He frowns with his sincere apology. “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I breathe. “Just be careful next time. I could have pepper sprayed you.”
Rowan sniffs a laugh. “I’m sorry.”
I nod. “What—What’s—”
“You’re cute,” he says. “You got all pink in the cheeks when I came inside. I love when you get all pink.”
“Are you drunk?”
Rowan shakes his head. “I’d never drink and drive. I think I’m just—I don’t know. Feeling confessional, I guess.”
“Feeling confessional…” I nod to myself. Right. “How did you get here so fast?”
“I think I lost you somewhere,” he says. “You were speeding.”
“I don’t speed.”
“You speed.”
I roll my eyes. “Not excessively.”
“I would have given you a speeding ticket.”
I cross my arms and cock my hip. “Okay, Dad.”
Rowan snorts just before his amusement drops from his expression, his eyes darkening to match the night sky with a glinting star that makes my core tighten. “Come here,” he rasps.
“You don’t tell me what to do,” I say as though he doesn’t have the power to turn me into putty.
“No?” He arches a dark blond brow. “I remember you doing exactly what I told you to just the other night.”
My body shudders, my stomach doing a backflip at the memory of all his filthy words.
“Come here, Natalia,” Rowan says, his voice low and husky as his eyes turn into a raging storm.
I run my tongue over my teeth and take three steps forward. I sigh and cross my arms again. “I’m here.”
His eyes pinch and he shakes his head, slightly amused. “Closer.”
I feign a frustrated sigh and take a step.
“Closer.”
Another sigh and another step.
“Closer, sweetheart,” he says, frowning. “I need more.”
Two steps and I’m tilting my head back just to meet his eyes and my chest is almost pressed against his.
“Tell me you need me, Natalia,” Rowan whispers, his hands lightly skimming my hips before they rest at my waist gently. “Tell me you want me as much as I want you.”
“Are you sure you aren’t drunk?”
“I’m sure,” he says. “Just…emboldened.”
“Emboldened,” I echo with a huff. “By?”
“You,” he says. “I’ve come to learn that you make me feel brave. Confident. Okay.”
“Don’t say things like that.”
“I only say things I mean.”
I squint at the beautiful man before me. “Are you sure you aren’t drunk?”
“I’m very sure.” He brings his pointer finger to his nose. “See. Sober.”
I snort, rolling my eyes. “Wow. So sober.”
He laughs and it’s one of those sounds that pull sunflowers in his direction. The kind of sound that tells the waves about their tides and tells the sun when and where to shine and if the rain should pour or not. It’s the kind of sound that makes me wonder if everything else just orbits around him.
“Extremely sober.” Rowan gives me a playful pout and holds up his pinky. “I promise.”
I can feel a smile dancing on my lips, trying to break free even as I try my hardest to hold it back. I bring up my pinky and hook it with his. “Fine.”
“Sober or drunk, dead or alive, you’re still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”
I bite the inside of my lip. My body reacts regardless of my efforts and my face and neck overheat. “Rowan…” I chuckle quietly. “You don’t…”
“I hope one day you’ll learn that everything I say to you, I mean. Every compliment, every look,” he rasps. “And I hope one day, you see yourself the way I see you because if you did…there’s no doubt you would be in love with yourself. You’d understand everything I say.”
My skin feels too tight around my bones and my heart doesn’t fit in my ribcage anymore. I might just be his, and it’s…terrifying.
I wish I could say I don’t want to be. I wish I could say I hated the way he makes me feel—how human I am with him. But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say any of that.
“Do you mean it when you say you hate me?” Rowan asks quietly. “Or is that a lie too?”
“I don’t lie to you.”
“Yes you do,” he says. “Whenever you tell me you’re fine or okay even when your eyes tell me you’re not. You lie to me. I hate when you lie to me.”
“I hate—”
“You don’t.”
He pushes off his car to stand, his back straight but his head leaning down toward my face.
My lips part and his nose grazes mine. His breath whispers across my lips.
His cologne and soap is an intoxicating mixture that makes me weak—always so clean and masculine.
And his face, usually clean shaven aside from the occasional short blond stubble I enjoy too much sometimes.
And his hair, oh god his hair. Shorter on the sides, a bit longer on top and always styled so effortlessly perfect.
I don’t hate him, I hate how perfect he is.
Especially when he’s standing next to me.
I’m a mess. I’m insecure. I feel dark and chaotic and I’m not good. Next to him, I may as well be nothing. Next to everyone, I may as well be nothing.
“You don’t hate me, Natalia,” he whispers against my lips, his hands curling around my waist. “You hate the way I make you feel. It scares you.”
Damn him. “Rowan—”
“Kiss me,” he whispers—a question, a plea, a demand.
My heart suffers, going back and forth between fight or flight. Leave or kiss. Take him, steal him, breathe him in, let him have me. Or run, save him, leave him, and give him the gift of something better than me.
But on some occasions, I’m incredibly selfish.
I lift onto my toes, wrap my arms around his neck, and I let myself sink into him. He groans as soon as I push my tongue through his lips, demanding everything he can give me.
I really should have revised the terms and conditions for this agreement because just kissing him is enough to make me rethink my entire life.
Like maybe I can fall in love and have that epic story I always see in movies.
Maybe I can understand what people mean when they say love changed them or healed them.
Maybe I’ll even find that there is a future I want to be a part of after all.
Maybe there are kids and dogs. Maybe I adopt them, save them, and protect them from whatever terrible nightmares the system has to offer them.
Maybe I’ll know what it means to hope for something and believe that those good things can come to me.
Maybe one day I’ll realize that this was the universe giving Rowan Asher to me on a silver platter and backhanding the side of my head to tell me, Look, you idiot, it’s this one. This one is yours. This is the one. It’s him and you know it.
Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. I only know that I want him now. And like the way the universe picks your person perfectly, he knows me perfectly. He reads my mind.
He spins us around until I’m pressed against the car, surrounded by him, and his thigh is between mine. “Shit, Natalia,” he groans against my lips.
It’s only then I realize I’ve quite literally started grinding against his thigh, and when he retreats, removing my source of pleasure, my pussy aches. I’ve never wanted anyone as badly as I wanted him.
His skilled fingers undo my jeans while he kisses me breathless, and then his fingers find the soaked skin between my legs. We groan in unison, and I realize I have never, or will never, be so in tune with anyone else.
“God, I love making you come,” he says against my neck, pushing his fingers inside of me. “I love watching you come, feeling you come. Fuck, Natalia, I’d do anything to taste you right now.”
“I—O-Okay,” I breathe, arching and grinding against his hand, finding the perfect ministration for his heel to rub my clit with each thrust of his fingers. “I…”
“Ride my fingers, sweetheart,” he purrs in my ear.
A whimper slips out of me as my pussy clenches around his perfect fingers but I pull myself together and manage to say, “I’d rather ride your cock.”
Rowan nearly unleashes himself right then with a growl in my ear and a harder thrust of his fingers. “Backseat,” he grits out. “Now.”