Page 94 of Beautiful Ruins
“Oh god,” I murmured, barely able to get the word out as Rowan slid two fingers inside me.
He pushed me backward until I was lying flat against the bench. “I want to watch you while I fuck you. Be a good girl and stay still.”
My small whimpers were all the permission he needed, and he lined up the silky head of his cock against my pussy and shoved into me with surprising tenderness.
I gasped at the intense fullness—of rightness. Rowan slowly pulled out, just slightly, then drove back into me, his eyes never leaving mine.
He gripped my hips, his fingers vice like, marking me, branding me in the way only he could. We moved together, finding a rhythm as natural as breathing. It was slow, our bodies connected in ways not purely physical.
I clung to the edge of the bench, my nails digging into splintered wood. My skin heated, a flurry of emotions racing through me with each push and pull between our bodies. I barely contained myself, too caught up in the bubble Rowan and I had created to think about anything else.
He pulled me up and buried his face in my neck, his breathhot as he nipped and sucked at my damp skin. “Sadie,” he groaned, his voice rough.
I tangled my fingers in his hair, tugging gently as waves of pleasure washed over me. The scent of motor oil and sweat filled my nostrils, uniquely Rowan, uniquely us. Our bodies moved in perfect sync, the garage filled with the sounds of our lovemaking.
It was more than just fucking. It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t sweet. But it was ours—wild and raw, and exactly what we both needed.
The familiar tension of my orgasm built low in my stomach, my muscles clenching around him. Rowan’s movements became more urgent, more primal. His teeth grazed my collarbone, sending a shiver racing through my body.
“Ro, I’m close,” I murmured, tightening my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
He responded by sliding a hand between us, his thumb finding my most sensitive spot. The dual sensations of him inside me and his expert touch sent me spiralling over the edge. My back arched as my body convulsed, wave after wave gripping me, each one more intense than the last.
I cried out Rowan’s name over and over, clinging to him as my body shuddered with release. He held me through it all, his movements slowing to draw out my pleasure. Just when I thought it was over, another aftershock hit, and I moaned, clawing at his skin.
When the last tremors subsided, I let my head fall against Rowan’s shoulder. He ran his fingers through my hair, his breathing even and soft, his heartbeat steady, like he hadn’t just killed a man to protect me. Or fucked me within an inch of my life.
This was the life I was choosing. I knew what I was gettingmyself into with him. Rowan didn’t sugar coat any of it. If anything, he shoved it in front of my face and made me stare at it until I’d come to terms with the fact he wouldn’t hesitate to murder anyone, especially for me.
He sighed, and pulled me closer, his thumb brushing gently against the skin on the back of my neck. “You love me,” he said, kissing my forehead.
I frowned, not that he could see my face. “What?”
He hooked a finger under my chin, tilting my head up. “You love me.” The words contained so much conviction.
I nodded, my chin trembling. “I’ve always loved you, Ro,” I said softly, my eyes darting between his. “I was just waiting for you to notice.”
His mouth twitched with the faintest of smiles as he ran a thumb over my bottom lip. “I noticed, Firefly,” he said, bringing his lips to brush against mine. “I was just waiting for you to finally admit it.”
Chapter Thirty
ROWAN
The worst feeling in the world was getting stabbed in the eye. Sure, there were worse pains, but nothing as cruel as that brand of wake up. And that was exactly how it felt that morning when the goddamn curtains to my bedroom were yanked open and the sun penetrated the space like it was on a search mission—for my fucking eyeballs.
Before I’d even rolled over and covered my face, a palm smacked my upper arm, hard, and then again, for good measure.
“Rise and shine, VP. We have a funeral to attend.”
Sadie Cooper. The woman who had infiltrated my heart and was now infiltrating my REM.
For a split second, I thought about pretending to be dead, just to see if she’d fall for it, but she’d seen me survive worse.
Instead, I groaned and reached for the blanket as I rolled over, dragging it with me until my leg flopped over the edge of the bed and I practically suffocated myself with my pillow.
“Is it yours?” I mumbled, my voice muffled by the scent of Sadie’s shampoo on the cotton pillowcase. I regretted the jokeimmediately, the memory of the day before—Sadie half-naked, Marcus pinning her to the ground. I wasn’t going there. If I let myself think about what Marcus almost took from me, I’d lose the last thread holding me together. “Because I could use a few more hours of not being at a funeral.”
“Hilarious.” Sadie’s shadow fell over my face, her presence already heating my skin. “But if you don’t get your arse up, it might be yours.” Warm fingers found my shoulder, and she shook me. “Come on, Ro. I want to be there for Nash.” She paused. “I’d just like to feel . . . normal. Even for just one day. We can go back to dealing with our lives tomorrow.”
