Page 104 of Allegiant

I notice. I’m trained to notice these things.

But Rowan? He sees it just because of who he is.

He sweeps Jules into a crushing hug. “I’m sorry. Whatever you’re going through, I’m sorry. Nothing was going on. I promise we were just fucking around.”

“I know,” Jules says quietly as he extracts himself from Rowan’s hold. “I’m sorry for being rude. I don’t mean to. It’s just…” His voice trails off, but he doesn’t need to finish his sentence. He loses his mind a little around Harley. He acts irrationally and rashly.

I know the feeling, because I’m the same with Rowan.

I don’t know what’s standing between Jules and Harley, but I’m so fucking thankful there’s nothing holding me back from Rowan.

With every hour that passes, I become more convinced that he’s meant to be mine.

Forever.

27

ROWAN

We don’t get any alone time for hours. As much as I’m enjoying spending time with Samson’s family, I’m becoming hyperaware of him. How his hand grazes my back whenever he passes me. How his gaze lingers on my ass whenever I bend to pull the cookie sheets from the oven or chase Nugget around. The long, heated looks that have me wishing we were in private.

The pressure builds all through dinner. We’re only half there, barely paying attention to the shenanigans unfolding around us. They don’t matter, not with how Samson licks every morsel of dessert from his spoon in the same way he licked his cum from my body.

I need him. I ache for him.

We don’t bother with goodbyes. The second our cutlery hits our plates, Samson is up. He ignores his brothers’ questions as he rounds the table and hauls my chair back in a sharp movement. He doesn’t bother to wait for me to stand, simply leaning down and lifting me over his shoulder.

Hoots and hollers follow us from the room, but I’m not embarrassed. How can I be when I have Samson’s glorious ass mere inches from my face?

I grope him as his long strides carry us up the stairs, squeezing and kneading the muscle until he groans. “You drive me fucking crazy.”

A squeal leaves me as he drops me on the bed. I bounce once and then grin up at him. “Back atcha.”

His hungry eyes devour me as he strips slowly. He’s so beautiful. I think I could stare at him forever and never get bored.

“Your turn,” he says huskily, his hands coming to my pants. I lift my hips so he can remove them, smirking at him when he finds what I’m wearing underneath. “Fuck. Have you been wearing these all day?”

“Yep.” I lie back so he can see the pink lace thong in all its glory. The same one I wore on our first night together. “Thought you might like to see them again.”

“You were right,” he murmurs, lowering himself down to mouth at the lace. “You’re so sweet. Gonna eat you all up.”

Samson does exactly that, tasting every inch of my skin first through the lace, and then under it. He works me over until I’m a writhing mess on the bed, moaning loudly for everyone in the house to hear. I don’t care. I’m too far gone. “Samson. Fuck me. Please.”

He growls, pushing my leg up, his finger finding my hole, swirling around the rim, making me arch up. My thong has been pushed to one side, but he hasn’t removed it. The scratch of the lace is driving me crazy in the best possible way.

“Lube. We need lube,” I gasp.

He grunts, reaching over and grabbing something from the bedside table. I hear the flick of a cap and then feel the pressure of his slippery fingers working their way into me.

I moan, the sting of it glorious. “Yes. Yes, I want to feel you tomorrow.”

He bites down on my neck, fingers knuckle-deep inside of me, crooking, finding that sweet spot.

I cry out, my nails digging into his shoulders as I let sensation wash over me. God, he’s good at this. He’s good at everything he does.

“Yes, I am. Except dancing,” he murmurs.

“You are a great dancer. You just need—ah!” I groan when he presses against my prostate again. “Oh fuck!”