Chapter 17 #2
Rowan looks back out over the lights below us, his mouth flattening as whatever had started to open inside him shuts all over again. “I was studying.”
I snort. “Mm. You seem to enjoy studying at forbidden hours.”
Rowan glances back at me with a faint frown. “Some people work better at night.”
“At night. In a building where most classrooms lock after eight?”
“I had access.”
“Who gave you access?”
His eyes snap back toward mine. For a second, I think he’s going to lie. “Professor Halvern.”
I can’t keep the surprise off my face. “Halvern gave you access to the library?”
The same professor who looked at Rowan and decided he belonged on that stage tomorrow in front of half the Reach, performing for donors, politicians, and half the old families on Sero.
Rowan glances back at me. “Yes. Why? Don’t you ever go to the library when you can’t sleep?”
“Shut up, Rowan.” I step closer. “You called me terrified out of your mind. Not Damaris, not campus security, but fucking me. I want to know who the hell is after you, and why.”
He swallows before turning toward the windows again, like he can somehow escape this conversation by looking out at the storm instead of me. “I called you because I panicked.”
“No shit.” I lean down, my voice brushing against the shell of his ear. I expect him to make a run for it, but instead he just stays there, staring out at the storm, breath coming out in a rasp. “And somewhere underneath all that panic, you still decided I was the person you wanted.”
“That’s not what happened.” Rowan jerks his face away with a glare before looking back toward the storm beyond the windows. “I should go.”
Crowding him against the windows, I grin. “Oh no, little mouse. You are staying here.”
His throat moves when he swallows. “There has to be another room.”
“There are. Twelve, to be exact.”
“Great.”
“But you’re not sleeping in any of them.”
I watch Rowan’s eyes snap back toward mine, color already climbing into his skin. “What?”
“You really thought I was going to drag you into my bedroom at two in the morning just to put you inside another room?”
Wetting his lower lip with a quick flick of his tongue, Rowan looks back at me. “I thought you might still know how to act like a gentleman.”
“A gentleman, huh? You should know better, little mouse. Now, get under the blankets.”
Shooting me one last glare, Rowan brushes past me with a muttered, “You’re unbelievable.”
I expected him to fight harder, but after tonight he must be exhausted, some of that stubborn bravado finally slipping around the edges. Then again, he doesn’t stand a chance in this house. We’re guarded up to our fucking teeth, and he knows it.
I turn and watch him sit on the edge of the mattress and toe off his shoes one at a time, shoulders tight and fingers unsteady at the buttons of his shirt.
“Um… do you have anything to sleep in?” He keeps his attention fixed on the buttons.
Leaning back against the wardrobe with a smug smile, I shrug. “Why? I sleep naked.”
His head snaps up. “Well, I don’t.”
“Relax, baby. I’m capable of restraint. But if you insist…”
I cross the room, pull a black shirt from the wardrobe, and toss it toward him. Rowan catches it against his chest before glaring at me like the shirt personally offended him.
“Turn around,” he mutters.
“Nah.”
His cheeks flush. “Ciaran.”
“You came into my bedroom, little mouse. You’re gonna survive me seeing your knees.”
Rowan glares at me for another second before giving up with an irritated sound under his breath and undoing his shirt anyway.
And fuck, that shouldn’t do this much to me. But watching him undress in my room while trying to pretend he isn’t nervous might actually be worse than if he’d simply obeyed.
His hands move to the button of his trousers next, clearly intending to shove them down and toss them somewhere onto the floor without acknowledging me again.
I close my hand around his wrist before he can and tug the fabric the rest of the way down myself while his breathing turns uneven all over again. “There. Better.”
His gaze lifts to mine before sliding away, and fuck, that’s cute.
The trousers drop somewhere beside the bed, and I step in close enough that Rowan instinctively leans back against the mattress behind him.
I brace one hand beside his hip, then the other, caging him in completely.
“Ciaran—”
I lean in anyway, brushing my mouth against his just long enough to leave his lips a little swollen and unsteady when I pull back.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Doing what?”
His glare would be more convincing if he wasn’t still breathing too fast.
“This.” He gestures vaguely between us. “Whatever this is.”
A laugh slips out of me. “Baby, after the date we just had? I think this is exactly what we’re supposed to be doing.”
“That’s not how dates work.”
“Maybe not where you’re from.”
I lean in and crush my mouth against his, snaking my tongue inside before he can argue, swallowing the startled sound he makes while his hands push against my chest, hesitate there, then finally clutch at my shirt instead, fingers tightening in the fabric as they betray him before his mouth ever could.
Rowan makes a frustrated sound against my mouth and twists in my hold, one hand shoving at my shoulder while the other stays fisted in my shirt like he can’t decide whether he wants to push me away or pull me closer.
I keep kissing him anyway, swallowing every protest until the fight starts losing strength beneath my hands. Rowan breaks the kiss first with a rough breath, his face flushed dark red now, his mouth swollen and wet when I look down at him.
Yeah, I may not have fully grasped him until now, but not tonight. No, tonight, I’ll take what I want.
I hover over him and lower my voice near his jaw. “You know what I heard when you played the Noctis for me and for me alone? A boy trying very hard not to get hurt. Yet you came to the party. You came because I ordered you to.”
“Because you made it impossible to refuse,” he snaps, his voice cracking at the edges.
“Your hands were trembling that night, but the bow played a straight note.”
“I’m taught to—”
“But the way you looked at me?” I cut in.
He goes still, watching me now as if he’s waiting for me to finish the thought.
“You want to know, don’t you?” I murmur. “You looked at me like you knew I was a bad idea and came anyway.”
He stares at me, eyes wide. But he doesn’t deny it.
“Hmm. That’s right.” I lower my voice further, licking my lips. “You can look again, you know. I don’t mind. Unless…” I pause, distracted by the bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he swallows thickly. “You can’t handle me?”
He huffs at that, then pulls me in for another kiss. The stubborn little fuck.
“I’m still here, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, you are.” Dragging my tongue over his lower lip, I savor the way he shudders beneath me. “And nobody’s managed to break you yet. You keep getting back up. You keep pushing forward.” I brush my thumb along his skin. “You should know by now that I notice things like that.”
I take his other hand and guide it up the inside of my thigh. My cock jumps to life, going absolutely feral at the mere thought of Rowan’s touch. My skin lights on fire, every nerve in me pulled taut.
Good Light.
Just his hand on me is giving me sensations I’ve never felt before.
I’m starving for it. For him. For fucking more.
So I guide his hand higher, closer to where my cock is now straining painfully for contact.
“Here. Feel me, baby. Feel what you’re doing to me.”
He lets himself be guided, and the entire fucking time, my gaze remains on Rowan.
I expect him to fight. To pull away. To tell me to stop.
Instead, he just stares.
No, not stares.
It’s like he’s entirely, fucking captured. Completely lost in whatever’s happening between my hand and his body, eyes turning glassy and nostrils flaring as I press his palm against my cock. He must feel it too, because his pupils blow wide and his hand jerks.
It’s as if he’s searching for something, and I don’t give a fuck what it is because my brain is completely gone and my heart is slamming against my ribs.
“Fuck,” I groan, breathing hard. “You feel how hard I am because of you, little mouse?”
Rowan swallows thickly, the muscles in his neck tightening as his fingers close uncertainly around my cock for the first time. The touch is clumsy, careful, shy as hell—and fuck, that somehow makes me even harder.
A shadow cuts across Rowan’s face, his hand tightening around me. “Why me? Because I’m an easy target to play with?”
I groan because, truly, he’s so much more fun than I’d expected him to be. All timid and feisty and fucking sexy. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
I meant to tease him, but instead I seem to have unleashed something raw and pent-up inside him. His eyes are furious, his nostrils flaring while he jerks me off with messy, desperate pressure that feels so fucking good I think I might lose it right here.
“Fuck you,” he gasps, but he squeezes me tight, pain sparking in my throbbing cock as his other hand wraps around my waist, pulling me close.
Seems he really doesn’t like the idea of me playing with him.
And because I’m a total damn tease, I grab his waist, my hand slipping under his shirt and onto his hip. “Why? You don’t like being messed with, little mouse?”
“Stop talking.” His fingers dig into my clothed ass, yanking me closer until my head falls back and a rough sound tears out of me.
And then he jerks me up and down in slow, tight strokes, sending hot sparks racing down my spine.
All my blood rushes straight to where his hand works over my oversensitive skin.
“Yeah,” I groan. “That’s it, baby.”
“I should’ve known better,” he mutters against my ear. “They warned me about you.”
A laugh catches in my throat. “Did they now?”
His grip tightens, irritation flashing across his face when my trousers bunch awkwardly beneath his hand. “You’re impossible.”
Then, with an irritated huff, he shoves my trousers and boxer briefs lower, clearly tired of fighting fabric every time he touches me.