AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His hand rested on his chest. Rowan touched a fingertip to the soft swirl of hair on the outer bone of his wrist, then traced the network of vessels and tendons on the back of his hand. They were a stark reminder of his humanity. Of vulnerability. That vulnerability was like a siren song to her own, calling for union.
She stayed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Rowan
Harry kept his word. He never asked her to stay overnight again. Rowan did anyway, throughout the rest of May, June, and into July.
It was before dawn. She awakened beside him, lingering in the murky state of consciousness where dreams were indistinguishable from reality. She’d been floating in Lake Vesper, and the water had been the color of Harry’s eyes.
Sliding away from him as she did every morning, she was careful to not tug the blankets or dip the mattress too hard, or knock the headboard into the wall as she rose. She tiptoed to the tiny bathroom, where there were two toothbrushes on the sink now.
A few early birds called beyond the window, the herald of every summer sunrise. A red-winged blackbird’s gurgle-trill, the slurred whistle of a lone cardinal, and the earnestchicka-dee-dee-deeof a chickadee. Soon, an avian choir would explode in tandem with the brightening sky, a surge of sound that was somehow both discordant and harmonious.
Those birds set a timer for Rowan each day—she had just shy of an hour before the entire world was lit. For the last few weeks, she’d been keeping work clothes there, dressing and slipping into the vineyard before anyone else stirred or arrived for work.
Movement caught her eye from the relative gloom of thebedroom. The bathroom light spilled forth to illuminate half of Harry’s bare chest as he sat up to watch her. He seemed so strong now, with bulk back on his bones. The strappy muscles of his biceps and forearms were more defined, and most of the hollows and angles of him had filled in or smoothed over. So different from the withered man she’d met last fall.
He absently scratched his chest, blinking slowly. He tucked pillow-rumpled hair behind his ears. In another month, the waves would brush the tops of his shoulders. Rowan wondered if he would trim it once he went back to practicing medicine. She imagined him in full scrubs, white lab coat, and an irreverent nub of ponytail.
Delicious.
Those dark predawn hours had a primal quality about them. It felt like they were the only humans in existence, bodies tethered throughout the hours of suspended consciousness. They might have existed at any point in human history—ten thousand years ago, bundled in furs under an ancient cliffside shelter, or tangled in the sheets of a sumptuous Victorian four-poster. On the surface it seemed a mundane thing, sleeping with someone. But truly, it was an absolute abandonment of control. It was trust, distilled down to the ultimate vulnerability.
It was the most intimate thing she’d ever done.
The first glimpse of Harry each day triggered a nervous, delicious agitation inside her. A heaviness behind her sternum, a shimmer along her bones. She could smell him on her skin as she raised her arms to put up her hair. The insides of her thighs were tender, her muscles wonderfully overused.
“Been watching me?” she murmured around a mouthful of toothpaste. Sexy.
“I’ll never pass up the opportunity to look at you.” His voice was gravelly with sleep.
She tipped her head sideways. “Hm, a little creepy.”
“I was aiming for charming.”
“Yeah, that’s a swing and a miss, Doc.”
His laugh was gentle, comfortable. “Ah, how about—charmingly creepy?”
“There’s no such thing, unless you’re Jack Skellington.”
“Who?”
“Never mind.” She chuckled and rinsed her mouth. When she shifted her eyes back to Harry, his scrutiny was intense. He always looked at her like someone she knew she was not.
“Not polite to stare,” she said, lightly.
He didn’t look away. “I’m memorizing. This is the last morning I get to do this for a while.”
Later today, Gia would drive her to the airport. This afternoon she’d land in Austin, and her first postdoc interview would be tomorrow. Then in two days, she’d head to Montreal.
Rowan stripped off her sleep shirt, bearing her breasts in the unflattering fluorescent bulbs. Harry’s eyes remained fixed on her face. Funny, that eye contact made her feel more fullyseenthan if he’d swept her entire mostly naked body with his gaze.
She tugged on a bra, then slipped into an old V-neck T-shirt. “I’ll only be gone a week.”
“This time,” he said.
