Rowan hummed into my hair. “You said you have cryptids in your family, right?”
“Anabelle was a snake shifter, and she was my great aunt on my mom’s side. But the cryptid genes skip a generation here and there.” I caressed Rowan’s hairy forearm, soothing myself with the touch. “They skipped my mom and my grandpa, Anabelle’s brother.”
“That’s possible, but I don’t think they skipped you.”
I scoffed. “Why?”
Rowan turned me around in his arms. “I think you’re a low-level empath.”
“Oh…” I chewed my lip, frowning. A mix of dread and relief flooded my stomach. Could I have missed something so huge about myself? “That would actually explain a lot.”
“I see how you interact with people. You always know what they need, and you’re there to offer a smile and your help.”
I shrugged one shoulder. “It comes naturally to me.”
“Exactly.” Rowan smiled and kissed my forehead.
My stomach did a flip flop of emotions. His words and gentleness broke me. “Is that why it hurts so much?”
Rowan cupped my face in his large palm and caressed the soft skin under my eye. “What does?”
“The thought of you leaving. It’s like a permanent ache in my chest. But it intensifies when I’m around you.”
“Maybe.” He licked the tear that rolled down my cheek. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He was hurting too. We didn’t have a lot of time. “Let’s shower. I need your cock inside me tonight.”
“Oh, okay.” Rowan looked surprised but stood up with me in his arms and carried me into the house.
I insisted on showering separately and shoved him into the bathroom first. That way, we wouldn’t get too handsy with water and soap together before the main attraction.
By the time I emerged naked, still towelling off my hair, Rowan had prepared the bedroom. On both nightstands were candles which, on a closer look, were glass-encased lamps imitating a flame.
“These are so pretty. And safe.”
“I knew you’d be worried if I used real ones, and this house is very flammable, so when I saw these at the store the other day, I had to get them.”
Rowan simply accepted my weirdness and rolled with it.
I placed a hand on his hairy chest and pushed. “I love them.”
He followed my lead and lay on the bed. “And I lo—I’m happy that you do.”
I straddled his legs and licked the ribbed underside of his hard-on in one long move, then took the head into my mouth. I didn’t want to imagine what he might have said. Because stupidly, I could have replied with the same. But we couldn’t give ourselves glimpses into something that wasn’t meant to be. We were both too set in our lives to change.
His intoxicating scent intensified when he was aroused, as if he was made for me to want him so badly, to need to bury my face in his groin and roll all over him until I could smell like him.
Rowan patted my shoulder and pulled me on top of him.
Our tongues mingled in leisurely strokes, the kiss growing deeper and turning from sweet to filthy. I nipped Rowan’s lip and sucked at it, getting some form of revenge for the way his beard scratched me every time we kissed. It was much softer than any beard I’ve touched before, including mine—a rare occurrence, but still rough compared to my clean-shaven face.
Rowan cupped my cheek and looked at me as if he was about to recite a profound poem.
“Sit on my face,” he said.
I burst into giggles and climbed up his body to do as he asked. Holding on to the sturdy wooden headboard, I squatted over his chin.
He grabbed my thighs, supporting my position, and licked a stripe between my cheeks. Releasing a low rumble from deep within his chest, he latched onto my hole.
