Rowan raised one of his hands in order to wipe a tear from my cheek with his thumb.

“This is possibly the most embarrassing moment of my life,” I croaked. “Beating out the time that I ran into a screen door at Jasmine Floyd’s party in tenth grade and everyone, including the boy I liked, laughed at me.”

“That can stay at the top. This is not embarassin’.”

“I tried to be sexy yet failed.” I was sobbing now, blubbering like a fool with snot running from my nose and everything. “And now I’m crying. Trust me, it’s embarrassing.”

“You did not fail at bein’ sexy,” Rowan grumbled. “You’re sexy by fuckin’ breathing. And I should be getting some kind of medal for resisting you right now.” The way he looked at me stopped the tears. “I’m hard as a fuckin’ rock right now, Nora. I’m gonna go to sleep tonight thinking ’bout what it would be like if I was a slightly worse man. If I was the man who took advantage of the woman he’s been wanting for years when she’s had too much wine, when she’s wearing a bruise another man put there.”

I opened my mouth to argue about that minor detail since Nathan didn’t technically put the bruise there. But Rowan’s finger drifted to my mouth to silence me.

“Not gonna let you defend him, cupcake,” he said softly. “And he’s not gonna be in this moment.” He tucked some hair behind my ear. “This isn’t rejection, Nora. This is me being greedy, wanting you to have all of your faculties... The first time we fuck, at least.” His lips hovered inches from my mouth. “Some time after that, I will gladly watch you drink wine, knowing that I’ll be getting this later.” His hand ghosted down the side of my body in a barely-there touch.

“Now go,” he whispered. “Before I forget every fuckin’ thing I just said.”

The restraints on my rollercoaster creaked, and though part of me wanted them to fail, I held on tight. Meaning I turned on my heel and walked out of the room.

Chapter Eight

Recipe: Chocolate Buttermilk Cake

From ‘Dessert Person’

I expected him to be asleep when I entered the kitchen. Most everyone in this time zone who didn’t work the night shift somewhere was still asleep before five in the morning. That was part of the magic.

It was usually magic, at least. Not when I’d spent the night tossing and turning, knowing that Rowan was in a bed not three doors down from me. In my house. Beneath my sheets.

Naked.

Well, I couldn’t be sure that he slept naked. But he didn’t come prepared, and I seriously doubted that he was going to sleep in jeans.

So, he was likely wearing underwear.

Or nothing.

I didn’t think he was a briefs type of guy. Maybe boxers. Or at the least boxer briefs. And he definitely wasn’t wearing a shirt. That meant my sheets were going to smell like his torso. The torso that was likely as chiseled as the rest of him.