When was the last time she’d let anyone take care of her?
There was no immediate answer for that, and when she went searching for it, a cold emptiness stroked her soul.
Her life had been all about Chris for so long she’d forgotten what it felt like to be someone else’s anything. For the first few years of Chris’s career, she’d stayed in the background, focusing on her tournaments and martial arts school for kids, determined to let him find his own feet. He was a young man in his early twenties, after all. She knew she’d come close to coddling him since their parents’ death. But then the entourage had formed around him, the wild parties had begun, the excessive indulgences, the reliance on Tilly to do things for him above and beyond that of a personal assistant, and Rowan hadn’t been able to stand idly by any longer. From the minute she’d stepped back into the role of big sister, her life had been about her brother and being the most invulnerable fighter she could be.
Letting anyone care for her…
Rowan’s heart tripped a beat and her mouth went dry. It wasn’t just that she was in love with Aslin Rhodes. She trusted him.
Trusted.
Which was impossible. She trusted no one. Apart from Chris.
She swallowed, staring at him as he stepped back from the car, her hand in his.
His forehead creased. “What?”
“I—”
“Want me to stay, Mr. Rhodes?”
Rowan turned to look at Jeff, who grinned at them both through the driver’s side window.
“No.” Aslin drew closer to her as he closed the door behind her. “Go back to Chris. And tell him if he damages my bike, I’ll damage him.”
Jeff laughed. “Will do.”
With a quick nod to Rowan, Jeff gunned the Audi’s engine and tore away, leaving the valet parking attendant coughing on his fumes.
“Sorry about that,” Rowan said to the young man. She dipped into her shorts’ pocket to look for a tip before remembering they were from Wardrobe and empty of money.
“C’mon.” Aslin smoothed his hand down her back and around her waist. “Let’s get you off your feet and into my bed.”
Rowan couldn’t help but chuckle. “Is it always going to be this way with you, Rhodes? Bossy, arrogant and presumptuous?”
He flicked her a quick sideward glance. “Yes. It is.”
The corners of his mouth twitched, destroying his attempt at brooding menace.
Rowan loved it.
Loved it. Loved him.
By the time they arrived at his suite on the fourteenth floor, she knew she couldn’t keep it in any longer. Knew she had to tell him, show him, before she exploded like his trailer.
The sound of the door closing behind her was all she needed. She may have only been two steps into his suite, she may only have left hospital half an hour ago, hell, she may have only just survived some messed-up attempt on her life six hours ago, but she couldn’t wait any longer.
She turned to Aslin, hooked her fingers over the waistband of his jeans directly above his fly and tugged. She pulled him along as she walked backward toward the suite’s massive king-size bed.
“What do you think you’re doing, Hemsworth?” His deep voice played with Rowan’s sanity. Stroked over her senses. Teased her control.
“I’m seducing you, soldier boy. What’s it look like I’m doing?”
He shook his head, curling his fingers around her wrist to remove her grip on his waistband. “No you’re not. I didn’t bring you here to—”
Rowan took a step back, slipped her hands under her shirt’s hemline and pulled the item of clothing up over her head.
Aslin’s argument was abruptly silenced. His nostrils flared. His gaze fell to what she’d revealed—her unrestrained breasts, her puckered nipples.
The muscles in his jaw bunched, his throat working as he studied her offering to him.
“I want you inside me so bad it hurts,” she stated, never so sure of anything in her life. “Make love to me. Now.”
He lifted his stare to her face. “No, love, you hurt because someone tried to kill you this morning. And as much as I want to, if I make love to you now, I’ll only hurt you some more.”
Rowan shook her head, her fingers moving to the fly of her shorts. “No you won’t. I trust you.”
And before he could utter another word, she released the opening of her shorts and let them fall from her body.
Chris had not delivered underwear with him when he’d brought the shirt and shorts. He never wore underwear himself, so why would he think to bring some for his sister? Rowan had never been so thankful for that shortcoming.
The second the soft denim of her shorts pooled around her ankles, she knew she was exactly where she wanted to be.