16. Gabriella
Gabriella
I have officially lost my fucking mind.
That is the only reasonable explanation for why Rowan Cross is standing in my house looking at me like I’m the only woman left on the planet—and why I’m standing here letting him.
No.
Not just letting him.
Wanting him.
Goddess, I want him.
The realization sends another hot shiver rolling through me.
I’ve spent so long surviving that I almost forgot what wanting something for myself feels like.
Everything I do is for Matteo.
Every shift I work.
Every dollar I save.
Every payment I send Nando.
Every lie I tell.
Every time I swallow my fear and remind myself that tomorrow is another day Ethan doesn’t find us.
There hasn’t been room for Gabriella in my life for a long time.
Not the woman.
Not the female.
Definitely not the part of me that misses being touched.
How long has it been?
I honestly can’t remember.
That should probably depress me.
Instead, I’m staring at six-foot-a-million inches of blond, tattooed, Viking-looking Wolf Shifter and wondering whether maybe tonight I could stop being responsible for five fucking minutes.
Rowan watches me. Just watches. He doesn’t move.
Which is almost worse.
Because this male is never still.
There’s always something simmering beneath his skin. His Wolf. His temper. That barely restrained dominance that makes the air around him feel charged.
But right now?
He waits.
For me.
My gaze catches his.
Gold meets amber.
Heat punches straight through me.
Fuck.
I should tell him to leave.
I should thank him for walking me home—or following me home, because apparently that’s a distinction that matters to my rapidly disappearing common sense—and send him back to his cabin.
Instead, I take one step closer.
His nostrils flare.
My heart skips.
“Gabby.”
Just that.
My name in that deep, rough voice.
Except I don’t want Havoc tonight.
Maybe that’s the problem.
Havoc is the Wolf everyone else knows.
The foul-mouthed firefighter.
The dangerous Alpha.
The male who sits at Dick’s nursing one beer all night while glaring at anybody who annoys me and leaving ridiculous tips I absolutely should not accept.
But I’ve started seeing someone else underneath all that growling.
The man who bought three giant cookies because my son wanted one.
The man who listened to Matteo chatter without once acting like a six-year-old was an inconvenience.
The man who quietly fixed my car without telling me.
The man who spent days fighting a wildfire, got hurt doing it, and still came looking for me the minute he got back.
Rowan.
That man scares me. Because I could want him for more than one night.
I already do.
And that is a problem I absolutely cannot afford.
“You’re thinking too hard,” he murmurs.
I blink.
“What?”
One corner of his mouth lifts.
“Can practically hear it from here, Honey Girl.”
“Maybe I’m thinking about kicking you out.”
His smile disappears.
“Okay.”
The immediate answer catches me off guard.
No argument.
No growl.
No obnoxious Wolf telling me what I really mean.
Just—okay.
His jaw tightens, though.
And there.
That tiny reaction.
It tells me everything I want to know.
He’d leave if I asked him to. But he doesn’t want to.
Something warm unfurls beneath my ribs.
I walk closer.
“You’d really go?”
His golden eyes narrow.
“If you tell me to.”
“But you don’t want to.”
“No.”
The word is immediate.
Rough.
My pulse jumps.
“What do you want?”
His gaze drops to my mouth. Comes back to my eyes.
“You sure you want me to answer that?”
Oh, God.
Heat crawls up my neck. My other scratches at my skin.
I should not be doing this.
I have spent years hiding. Years making careful decisions. Years making sure nobody gets close enough to learn what I am.
And Rowan already knows something is different about me. I saw it in his face when he tried to explain what I am to him.
Omega.
I don’t even understand how that’s possible.
I’m not a Wolf. He knows I’m not human, though. Or at least he suspects it.
And sooner or later, he’s going to start asking questions I can’t answer.
So maybe this is stupid. Actually, there’s no maybe about it. This is spectacularly fucking stupid.
But what’s the harm in one night?
One night with a ridiculously sexy Viking-looking Wolf who seems to want me exactly as I am.
No promises.
No future.
No explanations.
Just Rowan.
Just me.
For once.
I can have that. Can’t I?
My gaze travels over him.
The blond hair. The swirling tattoos disappearing beneath his shirt. The broad shoulders. Those gold eyes that somehow look predatory and vulnerable at the same damn time.
He catches me staring.
“See something you like?”
There’s the asshole.
I roll my eyes.
“Don’t ruin it.”
His mouth twitches.
“You were checking me out.”
“I was contemplating my poor decision-making skills.”
“While checking me out.”
“Rowan.”
Fuck.
The second his name leaves my mouth, something changes.
His amusement fades. His pupils expand.
A low rumble rolls through his chest.
And my hidden nature responds.
She presses against the cage I’ve kept her locked inside for years.
Him.
My breath catches.
No. Absolutely not.
I shove that part of myself back down.
Rowan’s expression sharpens.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Gabby.”
“Don’t.”
His jaw works.
For a second, I expect him to push.
He doesn’t.
“Okay.”
Again with that damn word. That damn willingness to let me keep my secrets when I can tell everything inside him wants to tear them open.
It shouldn’t make me trust him. But Lord help me, it does.
I close the little remaining distance between us. His hands remain at his sides.
I can see the effort it costs him.
“Rowan?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know what this is.”
His gaze holds mine.
“Neither do I.”
“I can’t promise you anything.”
Something flickers behind his eyes.
Pain? It’s gone too quickly for me to be sure.
“I didn't ask you to.”
“And I have Matteo.”
“I know.”
“He comes first.”
“Wouldn't respect you if he didn't.”
Damn him.
My throat tightens.
“And my life is... complicated.”
His mouth curves without humor.
“Honey Girl, have you met me?”
A laugh slips out before I can stop it. His expression softens at the sound.
And that somehow makes everything worse.
Because I could fall for this man. The thought lands so hard my smile disappears.
No. I can’t.
I cannot fall for Rowan Cross.
Sex?
Maybe.
Feelings?
Absolutely fucking not.
Except...
Can I actually separate the two?
I don’t know anymore.
Maybe once.
Before Matteo.
Before running.
Before fear became the background noise of my entire life.
But now? Letting someone touch me feels frighteningly close to letting them matter.
And the truth? Rowan already matters.
That's the part I don't want to examine too closely.
He reaches toward me, then stops before touching my face.
“Tell me what you need.”
My heart stutters. Nobody asks me that.
They ask what I can do.
What I can give.
What I owe.
What they need from me.
But what I need?
I swallow against the sudden thickness in my throat.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s okay.”
His hand is still hovering near my cheek. Waiting.
I close my eyes and lean into it.
The instant his palm touches me, something inside me exhales. His hand is huge.
Rough.
Warm.
And impossibly gentle.
I turn my face slightly into his palm.
Rowan makes a sound so low I feel it more than hear it.
When I open my eyes, the hunger in his nearly knocks me backward. But he still doesn’t move.
Still waits. For me.
Maybe that's what decides it. Not the muscles. Not the tattoos. Not the gorgeous Viking thing he has going on. Not even the Wolf.
The choice.
Mine.
I rise onto my toes.
His eyes drop to my mouth.
“One night,” I whisper.
Something flashes across his face.
He doesn't like that. I can tell.
But he nods.
“If that's what you want.”
It should reassure me.
Instead, some ridiculous part of me wants him to argue.
To tell me one night won't be enough.
Because I already know it won't be enough for me.
And that scares the shit out of me.
So I do the only thing I can think of to stop thinking.
I kiss him.
Rowan freezes for maybe half a heartbeat.
Then his arms close around me. And there is nothing careful about the way I kiss him back.
All those weeks of pretending I didn't notice him.
Every night at Dick's when I felt his eyes following me.
Every growl.
Every argument.
Every time he called me Honey Girl and made something low in my belly tighten.
All of it comes rushing out.
His hand slides into my hair, and I clutch his shoulders, dragging him closer. He growls into my mouth.
My hidden nature surges toward him again.
And this time? I don't force her completely down.
Just for tonight.
Just for one night, I let myself want.
Rowan.
Not Havoc. Not the Alpha Wolf.
The man.
And when his forehead presses against mine and I hear my own name leave his lips like it means something to him, a terrifying thought slips through every defense I have left.
Maybe the danger isn't sleeping with Rowan Cross.
Maybe the danger is that somewhere along the way, I already started wanting tomorrow too.