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“Relax, cowboy,” I said. “I took care of it. I’m just not well versed in confrontation, so I’m a little… off-kilter.”
Rowan’s hold was tight on my arms, and he watched my expression for a long time before he spoke. “She fucks with you again, you let me know.”
I rolled my eyes. “Aye aye, captain,” I replied dutifully, knowing that arguing was useless when it came to this protective man.
He kissed my head. “You closin’ up soon?”
I nodded, glancing at the clock. “Yep. You gonna hang around?”
“Yep.”
Rowan and I hadn’t been together long enough to establish a routine, but we kind of had one already. He didn’t come to the bakery every day at closing, but he was there most days. If he wasn’t, he was at my house, working on the greenhouse. There were only two nights he hadn’t spent with me, and after those, he was at the bakery at five, waiting for me, to fuck me into oblivion before I started my day.
I worried he may get sick of me, that this was moving much too fast. But I wasn’t worried enough to say anything. Because I liked this. Him. A lot. Dangerously too much.
I was in love with him.
And it was much too soon for that.
“I made lemon poppyseed muffins,” I told him, pointing to the cake stand they were encased in.
“You tryin’ to fatten me up, cupcake?” he teased.
“As if that is possible.” I ran my hand along his washboard abs to punctuate my point.
All teasing left his eyes and was replaced with hunger.
I swallowed roughly, my own need awakening with a vengeance.
“Don’t take too long,” he instructed. “We’re going to my place after this.”
My heart squeezed with excitement. “Your place?”
“That okay with you?”
I nodded enthusiastically. “More than okay with me.”
We’d spent every night together at my place, so I was infinitely curious about his.
“Good.” He leaned in to kiss me firmly on my mouth. “Now get to closing this place up so I can take you to my place and fuck you in every room so your cunt is all I think of whenever I’m there.”
Holy fucking shit.
My throat went dry when I realized Tina was only a few feet away from us. Rowan had pulled me back from the counter, closer toward the arch leading into the kitchen, and Fiona was now at the counter, bickering with Kip. Granted, the hum of the coffee machine made it incredibly unlikely that anyone had heard what Rowan had murmured in my ear, but still, my entire body was taut as a bowstring and primed for him.
He smiled wickedly, brushing his hand along my flaming cheek. “Oh, we’ll be doing things to make you blush for days, cupcake.” Then he stepped back, sauntering over to the cake stand to get himself a muffin.
I stared at his back. Watched him move easily and familiarly around the counter, getting himself a plate and joking with Fiona, Tina and Kip.
He looked incredibly ridiculous, wearing his work clothes behind the counter, all masculine and rugged in my girly bakery.
But he also looked right. So fucking right.
Yes. I loved this man.
I’m not sure what I expected.
Maybe for his house to be a log cabin in the middle of the woods. We didn’t exactly have ‘woods’ per se, so that wouldn’t really work. But something along those lines.
Rugged, built by hand with trees he’d cut down himself kind of thing.
I did not expect a cottage on the beach. On the actual beach. About ten minutes out of town proper, where the houses got more spaced out and the landscape a little more remote.
He pulled off, down a short driveway to reveal a large cottage, one that looked like Martha Stewart had designed it. Gray shingles covered the outside, roses holding on along the pathway to the front door. The wild Atlantic Ocean was moody today as we ventured deeper into fall, with winter creeping toward us. The garden around it was wild yet purposeful. When I got out of the car, the crash of the waves was what greeted me.
“This is your house?” I was dumbfounded and enchanted at the same time.
“Yeah,” he replied, tugging me to his chest, cradling my face in his hands.
“It looks like Martha Stewart lives here,” I told him.
He grinned. “Well, my mom will be happy to hear you said that.”
“It’s not what I expected,” I admitted.
“You haven’t even got inside yet.”
And that was true.
“Well, let’s—”
Rowan cut me off by kissing me. Hungrily. Furiously. I complied instantly, wrapping my legs around his hips, his hand going to my ass in order to press me against his hard cock in his jeans.
I cried out as he walked us forward purposefully, gravel crunching underneath us.
He must’ve unlocked the door, but I didn’t notice that. Didn’t notice anything beyond our mouths moving together, me ripping at his clothes, desperate for our skin on each other.
