No Longer Forbidden(28)

Twisting free of his grip, she swallowed back sick anxiety that grew all the more troubling when she realized he’d released her because he needed to shift down and make the turn into Rosedale. Seconds later they pulled into the garage. The absence of pounding rain made the interior of the car overly silent—especially once he cut the engine.

Feeling suffocated, Rowan threw herself out of the car, then stopped. She wanted to stomp away in a jealous temper because he’d confessed to having other women, but that would be immature. It wasn’t as if she’d believed he was a virgin. Maybe it made her heart ache that he treated Rosedale like a brothel, but given the way its owner had caused him to feel left out in the cold could she really expect him to view the house as sacred and special the way she did?

Moodily shifting to the open garage door, she stared through the wall of water pouring off the eaves and hugged herself.

He’d had casual sex with a lot of women. Maybe sex with her would be equally casual for him, but it would mean something to her. Nic, her first, here at Rosedale.

Rowan pressed the backs of her knuckles against lips that began to quiver with vulnerability, edging toward one of the biggest decisions of her life.

“Ro?” Light fingers tickled over her hair, sending a shivery warmth cascading through her. His hand settled warmly on her shoulder.

Rowan turned her head to look up at him, catching her breath at the impact he made on her. He looked into her eyes and she saw a tiny flicker of something, almost a flinch, like he saw something in her gaze that struck past his impervious shell. His hand flexed and hot intent flowed back into his evening-blue eyes, burning out anything else she thought she might have seen.

“Will you come upstairs with me?”

She couldn’t speak, but she nodded. His smile, warm and appreciative, softened his warrior features into something so handsome he stole her breath. He took her hand and led her into the house.





CHAPTER SIX


THIS was happening.

Nic’s grip on her hand was warm and strong, holding her anchored when Rowan felt she might float away. This was one of those instances so perfect it was like a rainbow on a bubble—enchanting but fragile. She clung to his hand as they climbed the stairs, fearful something would break the spell and cause her tentative euphoria to burst.

When he led her to his door she hung back, trying not to reveal how much tension was gathering inside her.

His gaze searched hers and Rowan felt as though invisible threads looped out to cast around her and back to him, gathering them into a tight, inescapable cocoon. There was such smouldering sexuality in his face she feared for a moment that she was about to be overtaken by him, captured and smothered.

“Second thoughts?” he asked with gruff coolness.

Rowan looked down at the threshold she couldn’t bring herself to cross. “Suffering a bit of performance anxiety. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Nic surprised her by lifting her hand to press soft kisses on her cool fingers, his lips twitching with amusement. “You’ve come a long way. Twenty-four hours ago you didn’t give a damn what I thought.”

Rowan couldn’t speak. The truth was too revealing. She’d always cared. This was just the first time she was admitting it. The back of her throat stung. The moment was huge.

Nic’s fingers tightened on hers. “You won’t disappoint me,” he said. “I’ve waited too long for this to be anything but completely gratifying.” He leaned down and took her mouth in a slow kiss.

She clung to his lips with her own, prolonging the exquisite rightness, letting the soft kiss play out into intensifying rhythms that made her hurt inside. It was so good.

Nic was barely hanging on to a rational thought. Rowan’s mouth was petal-soft and she smelled like a warm summer garden: earthy and rosy and fresh. He could feel little tremors striking deep within her as he kissed her. That delicious quiver fed the answering energy prickling under his skin as the taste of her nape was imprinted against his open lips. When she lifted her arms around his neck and pressed closer, delicately clashing into his achingly aroused flesh, his mind exploded.

He tightened his hold on her, reveling in the restless, inciting quest of her mouth. With a groan, he picked her up, never having done anything so feverish in his life. She leapt into a firm bundle against his chest, like she’d done it a thousand times—which he dimly supposed she had, on the stage and possibly for other men.

He ducked the thought, concentrating on how she was light and slender and so much more earnest than he’d expected. Performer, he reminded himself, but he responded to her passion all the same, fully involved in their kiss as he carried her into the room.