Page 30 of Beautiful Ruins
He dropped his gaze and sat up, still straddling my hips. “What’s going on, Sades? Are you okay?” he said, running his hands over my arms, my sides, my stomach. “Are you hurt?” My ribs still burned whenever I moved too quickly, but they were healing.
I tucked the notebook against my chest, suddenly regretting not covering myself up. “I’m fine, Ro,” I said, all my anger from our previous conversations evaporating at my neediness. “I need to show you something.”
He just stared at me. “It couldn’t wait until morning?”
I shook my head. “Obviously not.” I shoved the notebook into his chest.
He frowned, shoving a hand through his hair. “And what the hell am I supposed to do with this right now?” He snatchedthe notebook and climbed off me, switching on the lamp on the bedside table.
My gaze dropped to the black boxer briefs—the only thing standing between me and every reckless impulse I’d ever had. Holy hell, he was fine. He’d always been fit, but this version of Rowan . . . The inked-up, filled-out, six-foot-two version with messy sleep hair and caramel eyes locked on mine. I wanted to feel those hands on me once again, only this time, while he was inside me.
Bloody hell. I was one bad decision away from dropping to my knees. Even the quiet of the room pressed against me like it was expecting me to make another stupid mistake.
“Sades?”
I mumbled something incoherent, totally oblivious to the fact I hadn’t even looked up.
“Eyes up here.”
My focus snapped up, and he pointed to his face like he knew exactly what I was thinking. I didn’t miss the slight smirk on his lips. Arsehole.
I folded my legs beneath me and held out my hand. “Give me that back.” Rowan sighed but passed it over. I flipped it open and pointed to the words my mother had scribbled years ago. “Hollow Creek Farm.”
Rowan stiffened, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “What about it?”
“Logan had been trying to tell me something,” I said, running a finger over the words. “That song we used to sing when we were catching tadpoles. Logan had made that up when we were at Hollow Creek.”
Rowan lifted an eyebrow. “I’m still not following.”
I groaned. “Come here.” I patted the mattress beside me, his warmth still lingering on the sheets. “I’ll explain everything.”
Rowan eyed me for a moment, as though he was debating with himself on whether to kick me out or entertain me for a few more minutes. “This better be good,” he said, dropping beside me, his thigh brushing up against my knee. “It’s after midnight, Sades.” He scrubbed his hands over his face and blinked a few times as he pushed his hair back.
My tongue darted out to lick my lower lip, my gaze catching on a loose curl that had fallen back over his forehead. All I had to do was keep it together for five more minutes.
“Well . . . it’s something. Maybe.” I held the notebook out in front of him, attempting to avoid staring at his toned chest.
The tattoo of Logan’s name sat inches from where my fingers rested. I didn’t touch it. Didn’t need to. And why did he have to look like that—like the past and everything I’d been trying to hold together—when I needed to focus? Did he feel anything even remotely close to what I was feeling in that moment?
I shook it off, and jabbed a finger at the page, right under the words ‘Hollow Creek Farm.’ “My mum wrote this.”
Rowan frowned and snatched the notebook from me. “Why?” He flipped through the pages, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. “What are all these names?” As he read over them, he mumbled the names of the various addresses and scratched absentmindedly at his chest.
I leaned closer, my cheek barely brushing his shoulder. He stiffened, but I pretended not to notice. “I don’t know,” I said, lifting a shoulder. “There are boxes of notebooks, old news articles. Dad kept everything.”
He nodded, but I wasn’t sure he was hearing anything I was saying. His focus remained purely on the notebook, his bottom lip pinched between his long, tattooed fingers, eyes narrowed as though he could conjure up the reasons my motherhad pages and pages of names, addresses and fucking question marks.
It was minutes before he finally blew out a breath and slammed the notebook shut. He handed it to me, our fingers brushing briefly, but he snatched his hand away too quickly, the burn of his touch still lingering. Only it wasn’t just where his skin had touched mine.
My entire body was buzzing, nerves prickling like his touch had short-circuited something inside me. The teenage crush I’d buried had grown teeth. Desire. Need. And it hit me like a freight train. It was the safest I’d felt in a long time. I was home. And Rowan? He hadn’t said a word. He didn’t have to.
He stood abruptly and cleared his throat. “I don’t want you getting involved in this.” There was a finality to his words, one that told me I shouldn’t argue.
It did nothing to deter me.
“You’re kidding, right?” I said, crossing my arms over my chest like a defiant child. “I can’t just ignore this. Not now. Logan was trying to tell me something. You seriously don’t want to know what drove him to do it?”
Rowan groaned and paced his bedroom, bare feet thudding against the floor, fingers drumming the sides of his thick thighs. Damn it, I couldn’t stop from running my eyes over his nakedness. It wasn’t fair.
