Page 77 of Claiming Genevieve

Rowan’s eyes are closed, his chest heaving as he presses his other hand against it. “You’ll be the death of me, lass,” he breathes, a smirk on his lips even as he tries to catch his breath. “And I’ll die happy.”

My chest tightens at that, and, inexplicably, I find myself suddenly blinking back tears. I shake my head, fighting them off, and slide up the bed to join him. He pulls me into his arms, against his hard chest, and the memory comes back of the first time he picked me up and held me like this.

For all that I didn’t want to admit it then, I felt safe. I felt comforted. And I felt something, even then, that I’m still afraid to let myself feel.

There’s no question that things have changed for us. It can’t be the same, not after this—but the question ishow?

I lay my head against his shoulder as Rowan runs his fingers through my hair, and I wonder if he’ll have regrets when the storm has cleared and we both come to our senses.

“I’m not going to wish we’d done things differently, lass,” he murmurs, and I look up, startled.

“How did you?—”

“I canfeelyou thinking,milseán.The wheels in your head are turning loud enough to wake the dead.” His hand smooths over my hair again. “I’ve wanted this since the moment I met you, Genevieve. I asked you to be my wife because I felt like I couldn’t live another day unless you were mine in some way.”

He shifts, moving so that he can meet my eyes. “I thought maybe—bloody hell.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what I thought. Just that I wanted you. Ineededyou, and I knew we could help each other. I suppose I thought it would take longer to knock you up, lass.” He chuckles drily. “And that maybe things would change, before then.”

“I think they have,” I say softly, biting my lip.

Rowan nods, brushing his fingers against my temple. “They changed for me a while ago. I never thought I was the type to be a one-woman man, but the longer I’ve known you, Genevieve…the longer I’ve come to see you for the stubborn, infuriating, beautiful, driven, brilliant, funny woman that you are…the more I know that there’s no woman in the world that could ever satisfy me now that I’ve known what it’s like to be with you.”

I stare at him, stunned. It takes a moment for what he’s saying to sink in—both what he’sactuallysaying and the words underneath it, the ones still unsaid. I can feel similar words on the tip of my tongue, ones that I’ve been thinking for a while now, that I want to say.

But something holds me back. That fear that I’ll make a mistake, that I’ve misjudged the situation—that right now, what I’m feeling is just a combination of hormones and the fact that I’m wrapped up in the arms of the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, in the middle of a storm after just having the best sex of my life.

“I feel something for you, too,” I admit, and I see his smile fade slightly. “I just…I need time.”

“Aye, lass.” He leans in, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “We have time.”

—

When we wakeup the next morning, the storm has cleared. The sky is bright and sunny once more, the fire in the fireplace dimmed to embers, and our clothes dried out in front of it. The moment we both wake up, Rowan rolls me onto my back, his knee already nudging my thighs apart as he kisses me, filling me in one swift thrust that leaves me gasping.

It’s another two hours before we’re dressed and leaving. We eat some of the leftover fruit from the picnic lunch the day before for a quick breakfast, and then head out to where the boat is, thankfully, still tied up and unharmed.

We’re both quiet on the trip back. I’m nervous, trying not to look at the water or the sky or anything other than the beach that isn’t approaching rapidly enough, and I can’t think of anything to say. Rowan’s confession is still at the forefront of my mind, coupled with the look on his face when I couldn’t quite say it back—and everything else that we did yesterday.

I was right about one thing. Now that I’ve experienced what it’s like to let myself enjoy being in bed with Rowan, I feel like I’ve unleashed something inside of myself that might not ever be able to be satisfied. I can’t imagine anything else ever being as good as it is with him, and even as we step out of the boat and onto the beach, all I want is to feel his mouth on mine again, his…everything.

We head back to the car, which unfortunately has a parking ticket crammed beneath the windshield wiper. Rowan shrugs, pocketing it. “I’ll take care of it,” he says, seeing my expression. “It’s no big deal. I expected it when we got stuck on the island overnight. And,” he adds, reaching out to touch my cheek, “I wouldn’t change it. I’d rather pay a fine and have had the night with you that we just did, than save a hundred euros and miss out on that.”

My cheeks flush slightly, and I manage a smile. The truth is—I feel the same way. But I’m terrified to show it. To take that one, final step, and suggest that maybe we should rethink the agreement we had. That maybe we should try.

Rowan keeps up small talk on the ride back, pointing out bits of scenery or the ever-present sheep, but I have a hard time responding. My thoughts feel tangled, as do my emotions, and I don’t know what to say or do. Added to that is the worry of what’s happening back in New York, and the question of when we’ll be able to go back, and I can’t begin to think of what our next step is when it comes to something as confusing as our current relationship.

When we pull up in front of the house, Rowan comes around to open my door as always. When I step out, he doesn’t immediately move back, and my gaze flicks up to meet his, my breath suddenly catching in my throat.

“Rowan—”

“I can’t go a minute without thinking about kissing you, lass,” he murmurs, stepping closer as he reaches up to touch my cheek. “Every moment that passes, I want to be touching you. It’s been hell, waiting for those few days when I could have you whenever I wanted. And now that you’re letting me touch you like this—” He breathes in, slowly, his gaze sliding over my face. “Now I want to have you right here, and fuck who might see us.”

He leans in before I can say a word, his mouth crushing against mine, his hand tangling in my hair. His fingers curl against the back of my neck, and desire jolts sharply through me, cutting through everything else as my mouth opens under his.

“We can’t—” I manage, and Rowan shakes his head, his lips still brushing mine.

“No. We can’t. Not until I get you behind a proper closed door, at least. But I can kiss you for a little while, aye?”

There’s no argument that I can think of to make against that. My eyes flutter closed, my senses consumed by the warmth of his mouth against mine, the salty-sweet taste of his lips, the hard muscles of his body as he leans into me. My hands slide up his back, feeling the play of muscle there, savoring the feeling of him so close to me—of letting myself enjoy it without fighting.

---