Page 88 of Fighting Spirit

He sighs, taking some time to ponder over his words. “I don’t really feel attraction like most people. It takes me a while to get there, like I have to know someone pretty well for it to even occur to me that I might want to sleep with them.”

“Are you demisexual?”

There’s a jolt of panic as I say it without thinking. The last thing I want is for Rowan to feel like I’m trying to label him, or use words he’s not ready for. I’m about to apologize when he picks his head up, his face melting into a soft smile that turns me to goo.

“Yeah, exactly.” His eyes are shiny with the relief of being understood, and I could about burst with pride. The fact that I can give him even a fraction of what he gives me makes me feel like I just won a gold medal.

“Okay.” I shrug.

“Yeah?” He seems a little baffled that his revelation has gone down this easy. It hurts me to think that he was expecting something different, makes me wonder how people have treated him in the past when he’s come out to them. I want to find anyone who’s ever made him feel bad about who he is and kidney-punch them.

“Of course.”

I don’t know who moves first, but our lips meet, moving together in slow, drugging kisses. Our tongues duel one another, his warm breath ghosting over my cheeks every time he comes up for air. Heat builds low in my belly until I’m writhing under him like a creature possessed.

Rowan sits back on his heels and pauses for a long moment, staring down at me. When his hands move, they’re careful, deliberate. He takes each of my ankles and pulls off my socks one by one.

The action is so delicate in contrast to the way he hurls them behind him, not caring where they land. His hands travel up my legs until he hits the waistband of my leggings, thumbs grazing the skin of my belly where they tuck under my top.

“Is it just sex that you haven’t done? Or is it, you know, all of it?” I pant.

“All of it.” He doesn’t look at me; instead, he looks intently at where his hands are pushing my shirt up higher until he stops just under the line of my bra.

“You never wanted to?”

“It just never seemed that appealing.” He’s barely paying attention to my words, far more distracted by what’s under my clothes.

“And it seems appealing now?” I tease, delighting in the way his eyes rake all over me, bouncing around as if he’s not sure what he wants to see first.

“That’s one word for it,” he growls out.

“What’s another?”

“Necessary.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

ROWAN

Holy fuck.

Ruth’s laid out underneath me, and I think I’m about to lose my mind. The combined adrenaline of telling her the truth, mixed with how badly I want her, has my heart beating like it’s about to jump out of my mouth.

I get her t-shirt off and sit back for a second. “Jesus,” I breathe out, “you’re so fuckin’ beautiful I can barely look at you.”

The way her chest blushes pink turns me feral. I go to pull off her leggings, but she stops me, tugging on my shirt collar. We move together, taking turns to remove items until our clothes are cast around the room, scattered like driftwood on the sea, the two of us an island. I lie down next to her and cup her face, tracing patterns under her eye with my thumb. “You just let me know if I do anything you don’t like,” I tell her.

“I feel like I should be saying that to you.”

“Trust me, if it’s you doing it, I’ll like it.”

She gives me a soft smile and the only thing I can do is kiss her. She responds in kind, our mouths meeting in hungry clashes, tongues fighting for access. My hand drifts down her thigh where she’s smooth skin over toned muscle. Her legs are all power, formed from hundreds of hours of training so thatshe can shine every time she steps on the field. Ruth starts squirming, her hips shifting until she gets sick of waiting. She reaches down and brings my hand to her center. I chuckle into her mouth at her impatience, but I can’t deny her.

She’s so soft, warm and wet, and I have to take a minute to breathe before I completely embarrass myself. There’s some fumbling, some stop and start as I try to find what works, but Ruth’s patient, showing me how to make her feel good. She brushes my hand aside and touches herself and all I can do is watch, mesmerized, until I can take over.

I copy her movements, and when I find the spot that makes her gasp and buck her hips, I figure I must be doing something right. I can’t get enough of the sounds she makes, the way she wraps her fingers in my hair, tugging almost to the point of pain. I keep going as her breaths quicken, our kisses becoming sloppier as she loses her focus. Right as I think she’s about to climax, I slip a finger inside, and she explodes, clenching around me as she almost rips out a chunk of my hair with the force of her grip.

I’ve never felt anything like it, the feeling of her pleasure is so fuckin’ unreal that I could get addicted to getting her off. I continue stroking, not changing anything until she squirms away from me. “Holy shit,” her voice is hoarse, “you should not be that good at that.”

---