“I wanted to play,” I continue, my voice still sure even though I don’t think it will be for long. “I was scared when we started, afraid that I was making a huge mistake. But finding someone who could understand me for all the shattered pieces beneath the mask? I needed that. Before you came along, something was missing. You, Rowan. You were missing. You made it safe to feel seen. Safe to play on our terms. Safe to have fun, even though our fun might not be everyone’s idea of a good time.”
His jaw clenches, like it’s a struggle to not bite out his next words. “That is the problem, Sloane. It’s not safe. It’s the farthest thing from it.” When I open my mouth to argue, Rowan grasps my chin with his hand to trap me in his stern glare. “I almost lost you,” he says, every word punctuated by a pause, as though he’s trying to push each one into my head.
“I am right here,” I reply in the same cadence. My fingers fold around his, guiding his palm to my heart to lay it flat against the surging beat. “Right here.”
“Sloane—”
I’ve had enough of words.
I close the space between us and press my lips to his. He stalls with shock and I squeeze his hand where it’s still damp and hot on my chest, my tongue a demand against his lips. Let me in. I realize at this moment that I’ve always been in, in Rowan’s thoughts, in his plans, maybe even in his heart, and now it terrifies me that he could suddenly shut me out.
He kisses me back, but it feels tentative, like he’s trying to keep me away even though he doesn’t want to.
I drag his hand across my skin. His breath shudders when I stop at my breast, the piercing at my nipple resting in the center of his palm. A conflicted groan escapes Rowan’s control. His hand presses harder to my flesh. But the kiss is still not the same as it was in the barn, not when it felt like we’d escaped one fate to fall into a better one.
So I move his hand. I pull it to my sternum. Glide it down my skin. Let his hand slip into the water, slow and gentle over my navel. I know he likes that piercing too. I could see it in his eyes when he watched me in the mirror.
Our kiss breaks when I keep going lower. His breath floods my senses, the hint of bourbon a phantom between us. I inhale the scent and trap it in my lungs as my pulse hums in my ears.
I press Rowan’s palm to the apex of my thighs and hold it there.
He sucks in a ragged breath.
“Sloane…is that…”
My hand floats away as I let him explore. His fingers find my clit and the triangle piercing there and I bite down on my bottom lip at the burst of sensation. He then moves down to the symmetrical outer labia piercings where the bars on each side are capped with small titanium balls. By the time he reaches the fourchette piercing, he’s nearly vibrating with tension.
“Out of the fucking bath,” he growls as he grips my good arm and hauls me to my feet. A wave of water sloshes over the edge of the tub and soaks the bottoms of his jeans, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“But I just got in, as instructed I might add.”
“I don’t fucking care.”
I give him an innocent smile, one that earns me a sharp and heated glare. “I thought you said you needed to take care of me.”
“And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
The moment my second foot is out of the tub and touches the bath mat, he lifts me into his arms. He doesn’t give me a towel, doesn’t wrap me in anything but his embrace. Fat drops of suds slide from my body and drift to the floor as I soak his shirt.
Rowan yanks the door open with more force than necessary and marches toward the bed.
“But I’m no fucking angel, Sloane.”
He sets me down on the edge of the bed and steps away. His chest strains against his wet shirt with every breath. Arms folded, he glares down at me where I sit, my legs crossed, my good arm clutching the injured one to my body as the water cools my skin.
“Show me,” he demands.
My brows hike as my heart tries to spear itself against my ribs. “Show you?”
“You heard me. Get up on that bed and spread your legs and show me.”
“I’ll make it wet—”
I don’t even get my last word out and he’s in my face, barely an inch away, his hands bracketed to either side of my hips. “Do I look like I give a fuck? Do you really think I care?” My skin tingles as though begging for his caress, but I’m sure he knows it, can sense it in every ragged breath that passes my lips. He’s careful not to touch me with anything but the fire burning in his eyes. “I’m done running around this, Sloane. I’ve wanted you for four years. And you’re going to show me what I’ve been missing.”