Page 74 of Stolen Rebel

He reaches for the phone, glancing at the dark screen before tucking it into his pocket. “Go to bed.” His voice is quiet and infused with something that makes his voice heavy.

It’s not a suggestion, or an invitation. It’s a command. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him he isn’t the boss of me, but instead, I find myself on unsteady legs, my body still humming, still aching, still very clearly his. I gather what’s left of my dignity—and my clothes—and walk past him feeling his eyes on me the entire time.

Good. I hope he likes the view of my bare arse as it walks away from him. I can’t tell if we just crossed a line, or wiped it out completely, but either way, something just shifted in that fucking room.

One thing’s for sure. Liam can still kiss the air from my lungs and make my heart dance to a tune that plays only in our heads. What might happen if I push everything with Brian aside for a moment and let myself hope that this was just the beginning?

Do I dare to hope?

My lips still burn when I reach my bedroom. And for the first time in five years, my want is stronger than my fear. And that’s terrifying. It feels like fate correcting itself. But fate has never been kind to me. And if I let myself believe this is safe, that he’s safe, I’ll never survive losing it again.

Chapter 34

LIAM

I stare at Rowan sashaying through the door, her perfect hips and rounded arse swaying from side to side. What the hell have I just done? Eating her out instead of immediately telling her the murder was fake is a shitty move, even for a man like me. Dammit, I meant to tell her, but then we kissed and logical thought disappeared faster than my self-control.

Patrick’s gonna give me shit for this, but screw him.

I palm my dick, squeezing hard through my jeans.

Damn I want to be inside her. Need it like she’s a stretch of water in an endless desert.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I beeline for my bedroom. She isn’t there. I pivot, heading for her room. As I raise my hand to knock, an unmistakable moan drifts through the wood.

She’s masturbating. So, my little Rebel needs more. Fine. I’ll give her more.

I burst inside. She’s lying in the middle of the bed, hand down her pajama bottoms. Her eyes flare at the sight of me, hand stilling like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

“Keep going.” The words scrape out of me, rough and needy. I step farther into the room and kick the door closed behind me.

“You’re… planning to watch?”

“Until I get so turned on I need to join in, yeah.” I jerk my chin. “Take them off. I want to see.”

She nibbles her bottom lip, gaze bouncing around the room, everywhere except on me.

“Rowan. I’ve just seen you bare. I had my face between your legs, not five minutes ago. Take them off.”

She looks at me then. “You always did like to watch.” The admission is a whispered confession, one I’ve been waiting for. I don’t call her on it. Later. Not now.

“I did. I do.”

She slides off her bottoms and underwear. I move to the end of the bed where the view is better. “Go on, mo rún. Make yourself come. Five years is a long time. I need to relearn everything.”

With her middle finger, she circles her clit. Once, twice, a third time. Her other hand drifts underneath her top to her breasts. I should’ve had her take that off, too, but I don’t want to interrupt her. I’m transfixed, horny as fuck, hard as Connemara marble. It’s so tempting to touch myself, but if I do that, I’ll come, and I’m not wasting an orgasm when I can save it for when I’m inside her.

She’s worth the wait. She always was.

Her hand’s moving faster now, back arching. She’s not looking at me anymore, lost to the pleasure. She’s magnificent, glorious. So fucking hot.

Mine.

Not his. Never his. He stole her with a lie, one I intend to make him suffer for.

Soon.

Rowan cries out. I reach for my belt.