Page 12 of The Rebel

I couldn’t imagine sinking my fingers into those muscles.

To have them wrapped around me.

To have them lift me into the air.

“You have two options, Rowan. You can invite me up to your room, or you can tell me to book the hotel my assistant found.”

I felt myself wet my lips.

Inhale and fill my lungs.

Hold the air in and not release it.

“What are you going to choose?”

THREE

Cooper

Watching Rowan squirm was one of the hottest things I’d ever fucking seen. Although I knew which option she was going to pick, I could still see the fight in her. The way her body couldn’t sit still. How she was on the verge of panting. How the heat moving across her cheeks told me she was already turned on.

She wasn’t about one-night stands. That was obvious. I could tell just by the way she’d responded.

But there was something about me she couldn’t resist.

She was intrigued.

Her body was tuned in.

I could feel it.

See it.

And I felt the same way, unable to resist her.

I wasn’t leaving this bar unless I knew I was going to taste her, whether that be a parting kiss or her fingers looped through mine while I walked her up to her room, where we were going to stay for the night.

There were some things in life that just had to go down.

Fucking Rowan was one.

I adjusted the way I was sitting. Removing my arm from the bar top, I placed it over the back of her barstool, molding it around her.

She didn’t move away.

She didn’t straighten her spine.

She almost leaned into me.

“What am I going to choose?” She sighed.

“Yes, Rowan, what do you want?” The hard-on in my pants was fucking aching to be released. “Do you want to return to your room alone? Or do you want to spend the next twenty-four or so hours with me? Where I plan to pour a few of these”—I held up my bourbon—“over your naked body and lick them off your skin, giving you orgasms until you can’t physically come anymore.”

The smile that crossed her mouth wasn’t one that was built with confidence. I could see the nervousness that fluttered through her.

“I know you don’t usually do this,” I said, my lips not far from her ear. “Picking up a stranger at a bar, spending the night with him, giving him your body—not typical. I get that.”

“You’re right. This isn’t typical at all.”

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