Page 33 of The Older Brother
He winks, then turns his attention to the front of the truck, shifting gears and slowly pulling us around the athletics parking lot and onto the road.
The lodge isn’t far, and the air smells of fried fish the second we exit the truck.
“Would you be against ordering a pizza instead?” I plead.
“Good idea,” he laughs out, pulling his phone from his pocket as we head toward the lodge’s lobby doors.
“Supreme? Cheese? You pick,” he offers, passing the phone to me with an order app ready and waiting.
“How do you feel about mushrooms?” I quirk a brow.
“Fucking disgusting.”
I smirk, then select the Supreme. I’m tempted to get double mushrooms just to be a brat. It’s something I would have done when we were kids. But I don’t feel like teasing Rowan that way as an adult, so I ask for them to only be on half, then hit submit and hand him back his phone.
“I would have eaten them, by the way,” he utters as we pass through the lobby. “But only for you.”
He chuckles, and I know he’s simply being flirty and cute, but the sentiment makes me swoon like a schoolgirl. I could smell his fresh-showered scent in the truck, but somehow in the closeness and quiet of an elevator—the two of us alone—the fragrance is more intoxicating.
“Is that the hotel’s shampoo I smell?” I ask.
He laughs silently and pivots so he’s facing my left side, then drops his mouth to the curve of my neck. His lips are soft and send an instant rush of chills down my body.
“I think it’s called Amber Rain. You like it?” His mouth moves up my jawline, then nips at my ear.
“I think I might, yeah,” I say, my eyes fluttering shut as the beeps counting the floors count their way to eight.
The doors open, and Rowan backs out slowly, holding a hand out to me. Our fingers tether, the connection so easy and natural.
“The top floor, huh? Did you reserve the penthouse for us?” I know this place doesn’t have those, but still, I like that he put us on the top, and as we make our way down the hall, it seems he also put us at the end. Away from everyone else. Private. Alone.
“It might not have a hot tub inside, but it does come with complimentary water and the best mattresses according to reviews on Yelp and Hotels.com.”
“Oooo,” I tease.
Rowan keeps our hands locked as he reaches into his pocket with his other hand and fishes out a key card that he presses against the door sensor. It unlocks and pushes the door open, dragging me behind him and quickly tossing the card into the room before spinning me around so my back is against the door the moment we’re inside.
With my wrists locked in his hands and held above my head, Rowan has me caged between the door and his body. My breathing stutters, and my eyes lose focus as the lids grow heavy.Through everything, we haven’t kissed. The way Rowan’s mouth is hovering over mine, his lips so close, but not quite, his tongue tempting to taste, but not giving in, has me feeling drunk.
“We have thirty minutes until pizza gets here. But I’m hungry now,” he says as his eyes seer into mine. The green is showing off tonight. His hair is still damp from his earlier shower, and the longer strands have curled over his forehead. I’ve never felt the rush of desire so quickly. One look from him has me soaking wet. His touch, both rough and gentle, has my breasts aching. My mouth wants to bite into his, to tug on his soft bottom lip, then sink into the hard muscles along his shoulders.
“So, eat,” I finally say, my voice raspy with want.
“Fuuuuuuck, Saylor. The way you have me,” he growls into the crook of my neck.
He keeps my hands locked under one of his while his other hand drops to the bottom of my T-shirt, gliding up my stomach to the cotton bra underneath. He pulls the cups down and rolls my hard nipple between his finger and thumb, and my body buzzes with both relief and need.
He pushes my shirt up my body to expose my breasts, sinking his mouth over my nipple and holding it hostage between his teeth, sawing the tender peak with sweet, gentle pressure.
“Oh, fuck,” I moan.
At the sound of my voice, Rowan leaves my hands and quickly pulls my shirt over my head, then strips me of my bra, tossing it behind him. His mouth moves from one breast to the other, his tongue flicking my nipples before his soft lips suck them until I cry out.
My hands sink into his hair, and I’m tempted to hold his mouth against my breasts until the pink skin is so raw that I’m unable to take the assault from his tongue any longer, but I want to kiss him too much. I move my palms to his cheeks and coax his mouth upward until his hands slide up my breasts and movealong my throat, stopping at my jaw. He holds me still against the door, his thumbs stroking my cheeks as our gazes lock.
Our breaths tangle, both of us panting, but we don’t dare break our stare. I think he knows I want to kiss him, and I think he’s making me wait on purpose, somehow making the connection of our mouths feel sacred and worth more than everything else.
With his eyes on me, he drops his right hand to the button of my jeans, unfastening it with ease, then drawing the zipper down. The loose-fitting denim hangs on my hips, and I’m grateful that I chose the white lace panties today instead of the less sexy boy shorts that I almost wore.
