Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
rowan
“So tell me more about yourself,” I say as I drag my fingertip down Claire’s bare arm, finally getting to trace the outlines of her vibrant tattoos.
She sighs as she nestles into my side. We fit together so perfectly that it makes my chest ache.
“What do you wanna know?” she asks, and I shrug, accidentally jostling her head in the process and making us both laugh.
“Is there a special meaning behind your tattoos?”
“Besides annoying my mom, not really. I just like pretty things,” she replies.
I hum, taking in her answer. “Okay. What grade do you teach?”
“I’m a high school ag teacher and welding instructor.”
“Really?” I can’t help but smile at that. “Does that mean you wrangle a bunch of animals all day?”
“The preferred term is ‘adolescent boy.’ But there isn’t much I haven’t seen,” she replies dryly. “Or smelled. And it’s probably why I have such an appreciation for your bathroom manners.”
I chuckle, imagining her asserting her authority over a bunch of students. “I bet you handle those kids just fine, though.”
“I manage all right.” Her lips quirk, like she’s trying not to brag even though she’s proud of herself.
It’s unbelievably sexy, and I force myself to continue my line of questioning before I give in to the temptation to roll over and kiss her again.
Not that I don’t want to know everything there is to know about her, because that urge is just as strong as the more primitive ones I’m feeling right now, some for the first time in my life.
But I have to manage myself better than ever if I want to survive this night.
“Do you enjoy teaching?” I ask, watching her expression change.
Her sigh sounds more like a tired exhale this time. “Most of the time.”
“Hmm. What did you always want to do?”
She tilts her head to peer up at me. “What makes you think I wanted to do something else?”
“Answer my question first.”
She narrows her eyes and studies me before she gives in. “I wanted to be a vet.”
“Because you love animals?”
She nods. “But I got engaged midway through college, and we agreed I should forgo grad school for a job with better hours in case we ever had kids.”
“Makes sense,” I say.
“Except there were no babies, so I traded in one dream to lose both, I guess. At least I still get to work with kids this way. And I have my dogs to dote on for now. Frankie and Oscar are so spoiled and needy that you’d mistake them for a couple of toddlers.”
I feel a twinge in my chest, and I stop to take her hand and bring it up to my mouth. “Frankie and Oscar are lucky to have you. And I’m sorry. I think you’d be an amazing mom,” I tell her as I press a kiss to her knuckles.
She huffs. “Thanks, but God or the stork or whoever’s in charge must see it differently.”
My instinct is to correct her, but a theological debate wouldn’t be helpful at the moment.
Still, it saddens me to hear that Claire has not only been carrying so many crosses between her infertility and failed marriage but also a lack of faith.
I understand her resentment, at least to an extent.
I just wish there was a way to show her that trusting in God’s plans can actually lighten that burden.
I can’t imagine how she’s been getting by without the option to offer up her suffering for a greater purpose.
“No, I don’t think that’s it. Life is just unfair sometimes, and it’s even harder when we don’t get an explanation for why things happen the way they do.
We never really know what’s in store for us.
But it’s not too late for you to try again with the right person.
” This time I drag my hand up to lift her chin so that I can kiss her again, and my heart skips a beat when she lets me.
“Don’t give up on your dreams yet. As your soulmate, I have a special sense about these things,” I remind her between kisses.
Her expression softens and she smiles back at me. “No, really. Who are you?”
It’s not the first time she’s asked me that question tonight.
“Whoever I am, I’m thinking you must be pretty into it, since I’m also the stranger you brought back to your room despite the medical emergency and the embarrassingly bad lines,” I volunteer. “Or maybe I’m just the best kisser you’ve ever had, since you don’t seem to mind the coffee breath.”
As soon as I say it, I realize it’s much too bold, especially since I’m attempting to brush right over the fact that I’m still a virgin.
I can’t risk giving her a reason to overanalyze my hesitation to take her up on her offer and fill in the blanks on her own.
But Claire also seems to bring out this confident, flirty side of me—a side I’ve never tapped into before.
It’s not like I don’t flirt at all, just not to this extent, and certainly not with a woman I barely know.
I’ve always been careful not to make any claims I wasn’t sure I could back up.
But the thrill I get every time Claire doubles down with an even sexier reply is downright addicting. I’m afraid I can’t help myself anymore.
She bites her lip coyly, and my stomach dips with her confirmation. “I’m not sure that’s a fair claim. You haven’t had much competition in a while,” she admits.
“Neither have you, but that’s not stopping me from saying it. The truth is the truth.”
She clicks her tongue, but it only draws my attention back to her mouth. “You also believe in soulmates, so your version of the truth is somewhat questionable.”
I bring my lips down to hers, and she melts into my kiss. We’re both out of breath again by the time I force myself to pull away.
“The truth is no one’s ever made my heart go crazy the way you do. Not even close,” I rasp. I still don’t know whether it’s Claire or the adrenaline, but I’m certain it’s at least a little bit of both.
She squirms and tries to downplay her reaction with another eye roll, making a grin spread across my face. “Seriously, how are you still single? What’s your deal?”
“I don’t usually pursue a woman if I don’t see it going anywhere,” I begin more timidly. “And I guess I haven’t found anyone worth pursuing for very long.”
“Oh, come the hell on. That’s a cop out. You’ve got to have at least one red flag, something that scares the keepers away. And the severe peanut allergy doesn’t count.”
“I’ve actually been told that one was a deal breaker before,” I point out, and she rolls her eyes as she props herself up on one of her elbows and stares expectantly at me.
“Fine, if you really want to know, according to the women I’ve dated before, I’m too … nice,” I say, cringing.
“You can’t be serious,” she deadpans.
I look away in embarrassment. “That’s the explanation I’ve been given over the years, anyway.”
“Well, sure, but they probably didn’t mean it the way you’re thinking.”
“Okay, then tell me what it means.” I turn on my side and mirror her pose, trying not to let my eyes stray from her face.
Her current position highlights her curves in all the best ways, especially in those pajamas, and I can’t risk a distraction when she’s about to give me the secret to fixing my love life.
“Women want to be wanted. We need to be needed. We desire desire. We love chivalry, but we also need to know that we drive you absolutely wild.” I shake my head, and she sighs before she continues.
“You’re sweet and romantic, and you’re eager to please the women you date, but only from a respectable distance.
You’re not making demands of them or pursuing them in a way that makes them feel like you can’t live without them. ”
I furrow my brow. “Am I supposed to be a jerk, then? Should I forget to hold the door open and make her pay for her own meal? Act clingy and jealous or flirt with other women in front of her?”
“Of course not, but you can’t leave room for any doubts, either. You’ve gotta tell her she makes your heart race and that she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever beheld,” she says in a mocking voice. But the way her eyelashes flutter when she looks at me again tells me she’s not kidding.
Is this really it? The one time I loosen the reins and let my hormones speak for me is the time I get it right?
“You like that stuff, and you’re actually admitting it?” I ask carefully.
“Dude, you’ve been practically melting my panties off all night,” she replies with a smirk.
“Really?” I cock an eyebrow.
“Yes, really,” she says, shoving me in the chest. “The combination of sincerity and yearning with that smile and those eyes … not to mention all this.” She gestures over my body before she hums appreciatively and shakes her head. “Forget nice, Rowan. You are a dangerous man.”
“Am I?” I know my cheesy grin is giving me away now, but I’ve never been dangerous before.
“I think you know you are,” she replies, reaching out to scrape a fingernail lightly down my chest and making me shiver. She smiles once she sees what she’s done and repeats the move, watching for my reaction as she trails down past my navel this time.
“And I think you’re the one who’s dangerous,” I hear myself saying, my voice taking on a deeper tone. My breathing quickens as I debate whether to shut out my conscience completely and just go with it for once. I know I’m playing with fire, but I may never get this opportunity again.
She shoots me a smug look after her gaze follows her fingertip up and down, because while my brain and my heart may be preoccupied, my body still has some ideas of its own.
It’s pretty obvious what I want right now—physically, at least. Emotionally …
I still don’t know if I’ll recover from this experience.
Because even though I know this is wrong, I wasn’t prepared for how amazing all of it would feel in the moment.