My body warmed at his words, even though it really shouldn’t have. Unfortunately, it felt like my skin was on fire, sweat beading on my upper lip because that was what happened when I got nervous, angry or overwhelmed.

“I’m sorry,” he continued. “Knowing it and seeing it are two different things. You never should’ve fuckin’ seen it.”

He was right. I never should’ve seen it. And it was also right that it was utterly insane to think the super-hot man I was sleeping with hadn’t slept with other women in his thirty-seven years on this earth.

He did not require me to be chaste, virginal and unexperienced, and I was all about quashing double standards when it came to the opposite sex.

“Kaitlyn and I used to have a casual thing. She was one of the few women in town who didn’t try to push for commitment. Haven’t touched her or any other woman since you became mine. Didn’t think to call her because this town is a fucking rumor mill, so I figured she’d hear through the grapevine.”

He was kind of right on that one. Our relationship had been the top story in our town. Literally. Someone did a piece on us in the local paper.

“The Baker & the Builder.”

I kept the article, wanting to frame it but thinking that may be a little weird so it just sat tucked in one of my many notebooks, hidden from Rowan, lest he think I was too attached. Which I was.

“And that creamer.” Rowan rubbed the back of his head. “I honestly don’t know what to say. I tried it once. Developed a taste for the shit. So, I have it… at home. Not here.”

He looked appropriately embarrassed for a macho man admitting he liked something decidedly girly… fancy dairy-free creamer.

But it was too convenient. Men lied. It’s what they did best. I had a lifetime of experience to tell me that.

A small but insistent voice inside me told me that Rowan was different. That Rowan could be trusted. But that voice was easily silenced by fear.

I sighed, looking into those blazing eyes of his. I was finding it really hard to continue to be mad at him, to continue to believe he wanted anyone but me.

“See you working this over in your head,” he murmured quietly. “Tryin’ to find some way to make it make sense to be mad at this. End this.” He cupped my cheek, eyes looking at me and seeing far too much. “But you’re not gonna find shit, cupcake. This is it. You’re it for me.”

My breath caught in my throat at that little admission. The one I’d been dreaming about. The one all women with square-jawed alphas who treasured them and gave them multiple orgasms were waiting for.

I opened my mouth to tell him the same. Except, apparently, my body was sabotaging me. The blazing pain in my side exploded some more, and I fell into his arms.