Page 72 of Protect

“Are we alone?” I ask, already sensing that we are.

“Mm-hmm,” he answers, standing and moving toward the one and only large front window. I watch frozen as he tugs the string of the blinds to drop them down to the bottom of the window. He grabs the handle and tilts them downward until they’re fully closed.

Such a simple action shouldn’t have my heart rate sitting at a cool 180, should it?

“I told you I was going to wait for you, did you think I’d just go back on my word, Vi?” he asks. “I sent Lou and the others off. Told them we’d lock up,” he adds as he makes his way across the bar to the big wooden front door. His voice, normally full of flirty amusement, is different. Right now, it’s deeper and steady, serious almost, and it’s sinking beneath my skin, causing all the butterflies in my stomach to take flight.

“That make you nervous?” he asks.

“A little.”

“Good, I like you a little nervous.”

“I thought you’d just get tired of waiting,” I say honestly as I remain frozen to my spot beside the bar like my feet are cemented to the floor.

Rowan raises a hand and places it in the center of the door as he uses his other to turn the heavy deadbolt, the click it makes almost echoes through the space as he locks us in the bar. He slowly reaches up and swings the latch guard over, then turns to face me, staring at me for a beat under the brim of his hat before he begins to stalk toward me in even strides. A look of surety lines the planes of his face and in this lighting, the square angles of his jaw and the intensity in his blue eyes is a sure fire way to anchor me here. Like I’m the prey, caught in his trap, just waiting for him to come and devour me.

He smirks. “If I haven’t gotten tired of waiting for the last ten years, what would ever make you think a couple hours could deter me?” he asks as he takes his hat off and tosses it on a nearby table. He runs his hand through his hair as he approaches me. “Unless you’re not ready to be alone with me…in which case, I’ll go,” he says. The flex of his arm is mesmerizing. I let my eyes trail down his skin, down the ink that peeks out from under his shirt and I remember just what Rowan Kingsley looks like naked.Incredible.

“D-don’t go,” I manage.

“What are you thinking about right now? The look you’re wearing…I can’t place it.” He pins me with a concentrated stare as he moves even closer, until he’s standing right in front of me.

Rowan looks down at me, the scent of sandalwood and mint fills my senses. His hands come up to slide down each of my shoulders, and I fill myself with as much bravery as I can muster. I tilt my head up to look him in his gorgeous navy eyes.

“Was just thinking about what you look like under that shirt.” I know the moment the words are out of my mouth there’s no going back.

Rowan drops his hands from me and huffs out a little chuckle before using one hand to reach behind his neck and grip the back of his shirt, pulling it off over his head easily and balling it up before tossing it behind him. My eyes move shamelessly over his body for a good ten seconds that feel endless. This man is goddamn perfection, he’s packing some serious muscle under his clothes. Rowan’s right arm, the one that wasn’t burned, is covered in ink that fully encompasses his right shoulder with tribal lines and words that spread across the planes of his chiselled chest. Even his collarbones are sexy and defined. More ink spreads over his ribs, some sort of writing extends downward and disappears into his belt, and his abs…holy shit, it’s like I’m just seeing them for the first time.

How does a person becomethatchiseled?

“Well, I work out a lot. I don’t have a choice. Sup keeps on top of us.” Rowan’s words pull me from my trance.

My eyes flit to his. I blink.

Oh God. Did I just ask that out loud? I definitely did.

Rowan closes the space between us. “My turn.” His voice is gruff as he slides his fingers under the hem of my shirt and pushes me into the bar, so my body is flush with his. He’s already hard and pressing into me when he untucks my tank top and pulls it off over my head, my hair falls down around my shoulders as he drops my shirt to the barstool. He takes one look at me and mutters “fuck”before his mouth is on mine. His hands slide over my naked skin, grasping at every place he can as his mouth plunders mine with an unmatched hunger.

The other night felt like child’s play compared to this. This isn’t want, this isneed,and the difference is enough to send mybody into a sort of frenzy I’m unprepared for. I moan into his lips as he pulls back and looks me over

“You’re a fucking goddess, Violette,” he growls before lifting my body up onto the bar top. His hand moves to my back and he unclasps my bra with a one handed expertise that should concern me but right now I’m grateful for it. My bra hits the bar top as his mouth comes down to mine.

Our warm chests pressed together feels incredible. It’s a closeness I’m not sure I’ve felt as he lets his lips trail my jaw, my neck, my collarbone. Rowan doesn’t let one inch of my skin go untouched. I let my head fall backward as he moves to my breasts and trades between sucking my pebbled nipples into his mouth and offering light tugs with his teeth. A tightly bound heat aches through my core and I squeeze my thighs around him, searching for friction. Never have I wanted a man like I want Rowan now.

“Mmm,” he groans into my breast and my eyes threaten to roll back. “So goddamn sweet,” he murmurs gruffly against my skin. The warmth of Rowan’s rippled shoulders under my hands feel just like I always dreamed they would. So powerful, so consuming as his arms encircle me. His mouth returns to mine and his kisses become languid and deep. The feel of our naked skin together spurs me on like little sparks from a flame as the back of Rowan’s hand grazes the hardened peak of my nipple and slides downward, over my waist to the apex of my thighs.

I tightly grip the hair at the nape of his neck as his middle finger presses against my swollen clit through my jeans. I try my best to push against him. The denim is just in the way as I silently beg for more.

“I can practically taste you, Vi”—his lips trail my collarbone—“and I know I was right. I bet you’re fucking soaked already, aren’t you?”

How could I not be?

“Y-yes,” I stutter.

Rowan kisses me deeply, like he may never stop as he pops the button on my jeans and lifts me with one arm to slide them down my body. They slide off at my ankle as he sinks back between my thighs, never once breaking the kiss, a kiss and a feeling I would get down on my knees and pray for.

“That’s okay, you were right too…” Rowan whispers. “What you said to me in the hospital.”

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