“Potty mouth much, Rowan? The boner in question would be your dad’s.”
“Bre is watching Daniel while he naps. Pat and I are going to the Lobby for food until you three decide not to be disgusting. Do not ever, ever speak about toys and Rowan or discuss my dad’s dick again. Seriously, for the love of God, babe,” Bran said in exasperation.
“Row, tell us more about Hugh’s—” Pat cut River off. Rowan heard him yell stop and then heard the door slam.
“You guys are so bad! Your husbands may never recover.” Rowan giggled. “By the way, my job will be done early, so unless you guys are hankering for some Muskogee time, you needn’t come to Oklahoma on my account.”
River was still lyingface down on her bed in her sleep tee and panties, thumbing through the new Interior Design magazine. She felt more lighthearted than she had in weeks. Listening to her sisters being ridiculous was excellent medicine.
“Oh, I don’t know then,” Raven said. “We’ll talk to the guys about it today and see what they’re feeling.”
“If they’re still talking to us, that is,” River laughed.
“What in the hell is on your ass?”
Rowan almost peed her pants at Hugh’s bellow. Twisting her upper body, she glared at…God, Hugh looked so good in a casual t-shirt and shorts. Her sisters asked, “What the hell?” at the same time.
“Get the hell out of my room, you asshole!” He didn’t even react. His giant bear paw smacked down on Rowan’s back, the other landed on her ass.
“When in the fuck did you let someone tattoo your bare ass?”
He wasn’t roaring anymore. His voice was low and downright menacing. She heard “Oh Shit” coming through her speaker. An audience. Perfect.
“Hey guys, I have to get ready for work and kick a dickhead out of my room. I’ll call you in a bit.” Before they could reply, Rowan hung up and attempted to squirm out of Hugh’s hold. “Let me go, Hugh, or I’ll yell for your mom,” she threatened.
Hugh ignored her, and honestly, Rowan ignored her own threat because Hugh’s hand was no longer just holding her ass down. She felt his fingers move her sheer white cotton panties to the side of her cheek.
Her brain finally remembered what had caught his attention. The tattoo. Oh, God. Rowan redoubled her efforts to get out from under his hands. “Get off me, Hugh. For fuck’s sake,” she ground out. She felt the bed shaking where his knee had sunk into the mattress. She twisted her head to look at him.
His whole body was shaking in silent laughter. A tear, an actual tear, slipped from one of his black eyes, the bastard. Rowan let her head drop back on top of her magazine. Regret was sometimes a tediously embarrassing thing to endure.
“Christ, Row,” his voice full of amusement, “you tattooed my initials on your ass.”
“Shut up, Hugh, andget out!” Rowan moaned against the magazine’s pages. “And in case you missed it, it means kiss my ass, Hugh Darcy O’Faolain.” Rowan wasn’t looking at him, but she would swear his body became as still as granite. She was about to risk a peek when she felt warm breath on her exposed backside—right before she felt Hugh’s lips kiss the tattoo.
It was a brief press of his lips, but she felt that touch...everywhere. She may have moaned. He may have moaned.
“Would you like me to kiss your ass every day, Rowan?” He growled. “I will. Gladly.”
What in the absolute twilight zone hell was going on with this man? He’d never ever initiated touching her. Ever. Rowan slowly rolled over now that his hands weren’t holding her down and propped herself up with her elbows so she could watch him warily. Her usually sharp mind had deserted her.
Hugh towered over her, his eyes running the length of her body. Rowan had to stop her legs from rubbing together to relieve the sudden ache between them. And oh God, River’s words were prophetic. Hugh was definitely turned on. He didn’t even try to cover the evidence, but she supposed he wasn’t embarrassed about any part of his body. Why would he be? The man was exceptional.
Finally, her wits came back online. Thank God Matilda was a late sleeper. Rowan would’ve died if she’d walked in on her son towering over her half-dressed houseguest in bed. “Get out of my room, Hugh.”
He only stood there looking at her. God, he was infuriating. Rowan sat up slowly. Hugh’s eyes clocked the sway of her breasts beneath her top. Sliding her legs over the side of the bed, she told Hugh to back up. He took one step back. When she stood, the difference in their sizes had never been more apparent.
Craning her neck back to see his face, Rowan told him once more to get out of her room. “I need to get ready for work.”
“Will you let me see you tonight?"
Tempting, so very tempting but also the exact opposite of what she’d been working toward. She had to stop following Hugh around like a lost kitten. This was probably one more of Hugh’s territory marking parties. Matilda admitted last night that she’d told her son that Rowan was dating someone but didn’t tell him who it was. Hugh probably wanted to ruin her chances with Will and then move back to ignoring her.
The touching was new, Rowan admitted. Crazy to think their first, and surely only, kiss was on her ass. She would not, could not, allow him to keep, in essence, cockblocking her life.
“No,” Rowan said, shutting down his ‘let’s talk’ bologna.
“Why?”
