Page 41 of One Last Chance

I barely hold in a moan when he tugs at my nipple with his teeth.

“I think your rut might be coming, Rowe,” I mumble, feeling my eyelids get heavy with pleasure. The idea itself stirs something in my stomach. It sends heat towards my cheeks. His pheromones have been more rich in a way, ever since a few days ago.

“Do you think you can handle me?”

“You fucked me into oblivion two weeks ago when I was in heat. I guess I’d only be fair if I…” My eyes close shut with the sensation of Rowland’s lips brushing against my cock. It was only morning wood before. Now it is most certainly something else. Something that won’t go away so easily.

“You begged so nicely then.” He keeps going, teasing me in the most insufferable, maddening way as he brushes his tongue against my tip before pulling away. I dig my fingers into his hair in an attempt to have him go further, but it’s no good. “The image of you trembling underneath me, begging for my cock… I think it’s forever etched into my mind. Not to mention I get a jolt through me every time someone calls me Mr. Hall at work, you know? That’s a real problem.Youdid that to me.”

If I weren’tthisclose to begging him to finally put me in his mouth, I would have laughed. Unfortunately, some semblance ofsanity somehow shines through my mind. “Mac could wake up at any moment,” I whisper, gulping the excessive saliva pooling in my mouth.

“So youdon’twant me to keep going?” Rowland looks up at me from down between my legs, suggestively raising a brow, and I swear that the man licking the tip of my cock right now has no semblance to the mature, polite, serious Mr. Hall I thought he was.

This bastard is nothing but a horny, wicked troublemaker sent to destroy me.

I’m about to full on beg him to take me in his mouth to the hilt before a knock on the door makes both of us jolt. Remembering to lock the bedroom door in the evening has become pretty necessary since I’ve been spending time here.

“Mac wants breakfast,” Mina’s monotone, borderline annoyed voice sounds muffled from behind.

Rowland pulls away, sitting up, and lets out a sigh while I flash him a look of pure desperation.

“Could you be a big sister and help him, please?”

“He’s asking for you. I’m not his parent,” she says sharply and stomps off.

I let my head fall back into the pillow with a painful groan. “I’m sorry,” Rowland says as he crawls up to me to give me a kiss on the cheek. “I really am.”

Opening my eyes briefly to steal a quick look at him, he makes the exact apologetic puppy face I expected to see.

“I’m starting to think getting blue-balled is a part of being a parent,” I mutter and hope he can tell from my tone that I’m not angry. Before he responds, I pull myself up to sit against the headboard and pull the blanket up.

“You learn fast,” Rowland says with a bitter smirk. He’s already sitting off the side of the bed, getting dressed.

I can’t help but dig at him a little more, to tease him one last time. “Go on, I’ll be downstairs as soon as thislittle problemgoes away.”

After he stands and adjusts his pants, Rowland twists at his waist to look back at me. “I’ll make it up to you later. I promise.” He flashes those sultry eyes of his at me.

As he’s walking out of the room, I shout, “Not helping!” and hear him laugh on his way through the hall. Now painfully alone, I close my eyes again, and after briefly considering just jerking myself off, conclude that letting that sexual tension fizzle out and fester for Rowland to deal with later will probably be much more enjoyable.

I think my hardest about dead puppies and old people to kill my hard-on as fast as possible before getting up to take a quick shower. When I go to my drawer to get some clean clothes, it occurs to me and I pause.

I have a drawer at Rowland’s place.

The reality of it hits me. It’s pretty much one step away from living together, right? How many of my relationships went so far as to have a drawer? Two, maybe?

I smile to myself, my chest filling with joy like I’m some giddy teenager.

By the time I walk out of the bedroom, I’m not even mad about our ruined morning frolicking and I instead look forward to seeing Mac force Rowland to cook pancakes again because that’s what that boy has been wanting to eat for the past two weeks straight.

Rowland looks so useless and adorable when trying to cook with him, all flustered because of the mess.

I get so lost in that dreamy image that I stumble into Mina as I walk out of the bedroom. Stopping just in time to not knock her over, I put my hands up and give her an apologetic smile.

Of course, I don’t get even the bare basic respect. Instead, I see her crunch her nose briefly, like she’s got a whiff of something nasty before she rolls her eyes and mutters under her breath. “Staying over again…” she says,I think, before continuing on her path to most likely spend the day locked up in her bedroom again.

Every other day, I would’ve brushed it off. Hell, I would feel strange if she suddenly was all nice and friendly toward me. But there is something about this morning—something about the pure happiness and contentment that I feel with everything in my life besides her right now—that makes me pause. Makes me want to act. Do something to maybe push this frustrating situation toward some sort of resolution.

I hear Rowland and Mac laugh downstairs in the kitchen and think about how nice it would be if it wereallof us there. It would definitely take a lot of stress off his shoulders. No matter how good Rowland is at hiding how much his strained relationship with Mina hurts him, I know it bothers him more than he would ever let on. And of course it does—he’s her father. He’s the best father to his kids that he can be.

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