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Rowan busied herself helping Sky and Lara prepare the food and drinks, listening to them chatting happily. She wasn’t focused enough to join in much, she was too excited.
She heard the door click open and her anticipation tripped.
She’d been listening out, but it shocked her how her body reacted, as if the very sound of him made her feel more alive than she’d ever had.
When he stepped through the door, she rushed over on instinct and hugged him to her.
He ducked his head, kissed her lips.
Everybody cheered.
She pulled back, laughing.
Hs head ducked.
She moaned softly when he nuzzled her neck.
He wrapped one arm around her waist. “Got you just where I want you,” he whispered against her ear.
She couldn’t have been happier to hear him say it, especially so with the possessive tone in his voice. She savored the embrace, his body hard and masculine against hers.
All the others wanted to welcome him back too, so she stepped back and let him enjoy the homecoming they’d organized for him.
He had one arm in a sling, which worried her, but she’d been told it was mostly so his collarbone wound rested. He didn’t have to wear it all the time. Whatever. She was going to take good care of him.
They’d got everything they needed for an outdoor barbecue in the fridge, but if he was tired, they could keep it for the next day. She’d also baked his favorite Welsh dish, Welsh Eve’s Pudding. Sean and Rory both loved it.
She watched as the others congratulated him, gently poking at an abandoned cat toy with the toe of her boot as she did. She felt unaccountably shy. Knowing what he’d done, it hit her hard. Draco had filled in all the gaps, explained why he’d had to spend so long giving accounts to the police. He’d have to appear in court, turn evidence, but it meant he was off the hook.
Sean kept glancing her way, like he used to. It made her feel as if she were the only girl in the room.
She helped put food on the table.
Sean chatted with them all from the seat at the head of the table, making them laugh with his account of the police interviews.
She stood behind him, guarding him, making sure he didn’t use that arm—reassuring herself he was really there.
When they were finally alone in their borrowed room, they stared at each other in silence for a long moment after the door shut. Then he closed the space between them in one stride.
His free hand went everywhere.
Her flesh responded instantly to his touch, sensation needling through her and tugging at her very center. There was something about him, always had been—an inbuilt sense of power that turned her to liquid lust in his arms.
She gripped his T-shirt with both hands. “Be careful with your wound.”
“It won’t stop me,” he murmured against her skin. “Waited too long for this.”
He kissed her eyelids, her forehead, and then the tip of her nose. He rubbed his face against hers, grazing her with his stubble, then he teased his lips against hers while he cupped her face in his hand.
Rowan was in heaven.
“Be gentle,” she pleaded, still concerned.
“Maybe.” He smiled, as if to himself.
“Let me take charge,” she offered.
He gave a husky laugh. “Don’t think I could cope with that. Need you too much.” His voice was hoarse with emotion.
