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“Getting dressed?” I squeak, shielding my body from him like he hasn’t seen everything already.
My cheeks heat as his eyes slide from my face to the tips of my pink toenails.
With the dim light of the bathroom, I’m able to assess the curves and contours of God’s finest work. I think I release a small groan, but I can’t be too sure. Rowan clears his throat, clearly covering up a low laugh.
“So…”
Don’t be clingy. Act cool.
How does one act cool when they have no idea what’s happening?I return to my mission of searching for my missing clothes. My bra hangs haphazardly off the lampshade, and I swoop in to grab it.
“You’re leaving?” His brows pull together. Somehow he got a hold of my underwear. I’m willing to part ways with them if he’s into that kind of thing. Honestly, I’m open to anything that saves me from this embarrassment.
“Umm. Isn’t that what you want?”
“What gave you that idea?”
“Well—umm. You see…” My bright idea takes a dive as his jaw clenches.
“You want to go.” A statement rather than a question.
Is that…hurt in his voice?
No. That can’t be true.
Or is it?
Ugh.I think Rowan fucked my common sense right out of me tonight.
“Do you want me to stay?” I blurt out.
It takes him an entire twenty seconds to answer.Yes. I counted.It was either that or melt into a puddle under Rowan’s guarded gaze.
“I wouldn’tnotlike it if you stayed.”
I laugh. “Oh God. You use double negatives. This was doomed from the start.”
The smile he unleashes is my favorite Rowan smile—the kind that’s so small, I don’t want to blink and miss it. “I did that on purpose.”
“Sure you did.” I roll my eyes.
He rips my shirt from my hands and throws my bra over his shoulder.
Well, then.I guess that debate is settled.
He throws me back onto the bed before pulling the comforter over our naked bodies. I’ve cuddled before, but with Rowan, it feels more intimate. Especially when he wraps an arm around me because it turns out he’s a total clinger.
The shocks keep coming tonight. I’m not sure my heart can hold up against the strain.
Rowan grabs a remote and chooses the streaming app. “Which version ofPride and Prejudiceare you up for tonight?”
“Maybe I’m in the mood for some horror film.”
“Isn’t romance considered a subgenre?”
I pinch his side, making him laugh. “Now you’re just trying to be funny.”
“Trying? I seem to recall you thinking I’m quite funny.” He perks up like a total show-off, flaunting his pearly whites that threaten to blind me.
