Linebacker’s Second Chance(83)
CHAPTER NINE
When we get back to the ranch, Rowan hoists me out of the car and carries me up the stairs. My body is already pulsing with want for him, even though the two of us barely know each other. Despite my past, my history, my losses... I want this man more than anything I've ever wanted. All night long, I've wanted to open my mouth to protest again, to tell him what an awful idea this all is.
He doesn't know me. He doesn't know me. He shouldn't want to.
The desire for him threatens to take me over, to drain all of the sense out of my body and drive me towards him indefinitely. But if I don’t say something ow, it feels like we’ll both fall into this abyss, blinded by lust and the stultifying need to banish our past.
“You don’t know me from Adam,” I breathe. He pushes me against the door to my room, the blue guest suite I’ve come to think of as my own. Maybe it was obvious when I opted to stay here after the guest house got electricity back, but hell, I like the painting. And I have all my stuff here. And Rowan Corbett lives in this house, and let’s be honest. I’ve longed for this since the moment I laid eyes on that man.
“Who’s Adam?” He grins when he says it and kisses my neck right below my ear. A shiver runs down my spine and sends heat straight to my belly. We’ve only shared one kiss and ten days of time between us, and here I am going as crazy as a schoolgirl over this man I barely know. This man who doesn’t know me at all.
“You know what I mean. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea—”
“What idea is that?” His voice is raw and husky, and it vibrates against my skin. Underneath the raw silk dress, my nipples stiffen, taut and hard as beads. Heat creeps over my skin, threatening to cloud my judgment, threatening to take me over. “The idea that I want to fuck you? Or more specifically, the idea that I want to make you come? Because if that’s the wrong idea, it’s one I’ve had since the first minute you arrived in this house. And nothing feels wrong about it.”
“Oh God,” I whisper. “Rowan—I just want to warn you—” He’s still kissing the hollow of my neck, and then he sticks out his warm tongue and licks me there, breathing deeply and pushing his body against mine. The heat and hardness of his cock meets my leg, and I gasp. I can’t breathe for a second, and my sex begins to throb in response.
“Warn me of what? What on earth could possibly make me not want you right now? I can’t think of a damn thing. You’re crazy? I don’t care. Some kind of hired criminal from New York? Not an artist at all? I have no issue with that.” He moves a hand to my breast and circles my nipple with his thumb, the silken fabric exquisite against my skin.
“I’m no good with relationships—I’m no good with men—” I stutter over the words, force them out. There’s way more than that.
“Oh? What was that, Cadence? I give absolutely zero fucks whether or not you’re good with men, whatever that’s supposed to mean.” He kisses me, more insistent than he was back at the fundraiser, his mouth somehow hotter and more searching. He pulls away and puts his hand to the doorknob of the blue guest suite.
“Really, I--“ Before I can say another word, he picks me up and pushes the door to my room open. My shoes fall off and clatter against the floor. His arms make me feel light and airy, and the blue dress makes me feel sort of like a princess, and I haven’t felt that way in a long time. He deftly places me on the ground before the bed and lifts the back of my dress, resting his hands on my ass.
“Really, this ass is so perfect, I want to take a bite out of it. It’s fucking mesmerizing.” He pulls the lacy boyshorts I have on down to the floor and pulls his jacket off, tossing it to the floor alongside my panties.
“Rowan, you’re not listening.”
“My God, woman. The only way you’ll make me stop is to tell me, ‘Rowan, please leave my room now and forget about making me come. Repeatedly. Again and again. All fucking night long.’ Is that something you want to tell me?” I stare at him and shake my head, my voice failing me. The electricity zapping through my body tells me that I want him to stay, that my body *needs this, wants this, deserves it. “Good, then. Take off that damn dress and let me look at you.”
I purse my lips together. “I’ve never—the lights are on and—usually—”
“Take off the dress.” His words come out as a command, and something about his tone sends an even brighter spark through my core, and a slick wetness starts to grow between my thighs. Rowan steps toward me and takes me by the waist, then pulls the zipper at my back down rapidly. “There now, Cadence. I think you’ll find it’s easy to slip off. And I know you’re not wearing a bra under there, are you?”