16. Erik #2
I continue before she can decide whether to be offended.
"Orell built this route before you entered law school.
He owned people inside Blackthorne before you challenged me at a press conference.
Aaron was already collecting records. Jeremy was already interfering with transfers. You didn't create any of it."
Her cheeks are still red, but she sounds less on the verge of shouting. "That may be the least reassuring speech anybody has ever given."
I give her a flash of a smile. "I wasn't trying to comfort you."
That earns me a brief glare, which pleases me. She needs anger more than reassurance she won't believe.
Her eyes are shining with either anger or impending tears. "You think telling me I'm insignificant helps?"
"I think reminding you that Orell existed before you prevents you from making yourself responsible for his decisions."
Rowan looks down at the letter again. "Dad still died."
"Yes."
She blinks rapidly. "Aaron too."
"Yes." I let a little brusqueness drop.
"And now Callie is being followed."
"Yes." I leave the answer plain. "None of that is your fault just because you care about the people involved."
She walks toward the window.
I take Jeremy's letter from the table and bring it to her, though I stop far enough away that she has to choose whether to accept it.
She does after a moment.
"I think he wrote this about you and Callie."
Rowan looks down at the folded page. "You've said that before."
I nod. "I believe it more now."
"Why?"
"Because he spent months hiding evidence while trying to keep his family away from it." I gesture toward the letter in her hand. "He knew he might fail. This is what he left behind when he couldn't explain everything else."
Rowan reads the first few lines, then folds it again. She looks at my bandaged side. "Why did you do it?"
I know what she means.
She still asks the full question. "Why did you take a bullet at your own gala? Why did you risk your position, your family, and everything Orell could expose for the daughter of a man you publicly accused?"
I could answer with strategy. I could tell her Orell wanted her alive for leverage, or that her death would destroy the investigation, but neither answer is true enough. "I did it for you."
Rowan doesn't move.
The sentence is more painful than the stitches.
I've spent my adult life ensuring nobody knows enough about what matters to me to use it properly. Now she knows.
She walks toward me, and I stay where I am. Her fingers touch my shirt first, then she rises onto her toes and kisses me.
There's no anger in it. That changes everything.
I put one hand against her waist and wait until she moves closer before I kiss her back. She opens my shirt one button at a time, slower than she ever has before.
"Rowan."
She looks at me.
"You can stop."
"I know."
I kiss her again, then take her upstairs.
In the bedroom, I undress her without rushing. She lifts her arms when I remove her shirt, then catches my wrist before I reach for her bra.
I stop immediately.
Rowan takes my hand and puts it back where it was. "I wanted you to wait." She unfastens the bra herself.
I kiss her shoulder, then her breast, while she opens the rest of my shirt. When she reaches my bandage, she slows and looks at me. "Are you up for this?"
"I'm fine."
She frowns. "That's what you said after getting shot."
I grin. "I'm finer now."
She almost purrs. "You are." She presses her lips together while she works my shirt down my arms without touching the dressing. "You can change your mind too."
That almost makes me laugh until I realize she's serious. "I won't."
She still hesitates. "That wasn't the agreement."
I look at her. "I know I can."
She accepts that and pulls me back to her.
I take my time with her because nothing is chasing us tonight.
I kiss down her neck, across her collarbone, and lower until I close my mouth around one nipple.
She arches into me, and the sound she makes is softer than anything I've heard from her before.
I move to the other breast, sucking until she threads her fingers into my hair and pulls me closer.
I kiss down her stomach, following the line of muscle beneath her skin while she settles deeper against the pillows. When I spread her thighs and lower my mouth to her pussy, she reaches for my shoulder and grips it.
The first stroke of my tongue across her clit draws a sharp breath from her.
I keep one arm across her hips without pinning her and circle the swollen nub slowly, learning what makes her grip tighten and what makes her hips roll toward me.
She's already wet, and I slide two fingers inside her while my mouth stays on her clit.
"Erik." My name comes out half-broken.
I look up. Her head is tipped back against the pillows, and her chest rises unevenly with each breath. I curl my fingers against her front wall, and her thighs begin to shake around me.
She doesn't ask for more. She reaches for me instead.
I move back over her and kiss her while she opens my trousers and pushes them down my hips. When she wraps her fingers around my cock, I close my eyes and press my forehead against hers. Her grip is warm and firm, stroking me slowly enough that I throb against her palm.
"I want you." She says it against my mouth.
I take the condom from the nightstand. Rowan watches me roll it on, her attention following my hand down my shaft before she pulls me closer and positions me between her thighs.
I stop with the head of my cock pressed against her entrance. "You can still change your mind."
She catches the back of my neck. "I want you inside me."
I push into her slowly, watching her face while she takes me inch by inch.
Her lips part when I'm halfway in, and her legs wrap around my waist as I press deeper until I'm fully seated.
Her pussy is slick and hot around me, and I hold still long enough for both of us to adjust to the feeling of being this close without any urgency driving us there.
She moves beneath me first, rolling her hips in a slow circle that sends heat through my entire body.
I follow her rhythm, pulling back and thrusting forward with the unhurried pace she's setting.
There is no conference table, no open library door, and no threat waiting on the other side of the room.
Only Rowan.
She tilts her hips to change the angle, and I sink deeper on the next thrust. The sound she makes tells me exactly what she wanted. I keep that angle, each stroke deliberate and full, while she digs her fingers into my back and pulls me closer.
I brace myself on one arm, careful of the stitches, and slide my other hand between us. When my fingers find her clit, she gasps against my neck. I stroke her in time with my thrusts, steady pressure that makes her pussy clench around my cock with every pass.
"Don't stop." Her voice is barely above breathing.
I don't stop. I keep the same rhythm, fucking her slowly and deeply while my fingers work her clit. Her breathing fractures, and she wraps her arms around my neck. I lower my mouth to her throat and taste the salt on her skin while she tightens around me.
She pulls me deeper with her legs, and I give her everything I have without rushing the ending. Every thrust hits the spot that makes her hold me tighter, and I can tell from the way her body moves beneath mine that she's close.
"Stay." The word comes out against my shoulder.
"I'm here."
She kisses me, and I keep moving inside her while her orgasm builds between us.
When she comes, she presses her face against my shoulder and says my name.
Her pussy pulses around my cock in long, rhythmic contractions that pull me over the edge with her.
I bury myself deep and come with a groan I muffle against her hair, spilling inside her while her body keeps gripping mine.
I stay inside her until the aftershocks fade, then ease out carefully and dispose of the condom before settling beside her. Rowan curls against my uninjured side and puts one hand flat against my chest.
She falls asleep first.
I remain awake with one arm around her and finally admit what has been obvious to everyone except me.
I love her.
I've loved her long enough that identifying the exact day no longer matters. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with that.
My phone rings at 4:21 in the morning.
I reach for it without waking her.
Makari speaks as soon as I answer. "We traced the credential that got Callie's pursuer through the south campus gate."
I sit up carefully.
"It was issued through Richard Caldwell's office."