by London James
But it has always been my favorite feature on him.
We walk in silence. And the only thing passing between us is our struggling breath. Well, I’m struggling. He is doing this like he takes ten thousand steps a day without a breaking a sweat.
“How are you holding up?”
“Just peachy,” I insist. “Are we there yet? I thought this was only eight flights, not eighty,” I whine, grabbing onto the white rail to help pull myself along. My legs feel like jello. Even my arms ache from dragging myself up the stairs.
“Almost,” he shortly snips, almost growling.
I sigh. I guess that positive interaction was short-lived. My heart aches from how much I miss him. The moment in the elevator wasn’t enough. I need more. Talking with him was only a small dose for the large one I need. My bones have been aching for him, but it seems I’ll keep aching until I break.
Who am I kidding? I broke a long time ago.
Chapter Fifteen
Rowan
I have to shut these emotions down right now. Talking with Everly in the elevator, although brief, reminded me of how effortless and fun it is—was—between us. And I need to put distance between us, so I shut down. She knows it, too. Everly has stayed a few feet back, giving me space. She knows I’ve withdrawn.
The tension is pulled so tight the air between us threatens to rip apart.
I can’t give myself over to her again, though. She has a way of grabbing hold of me and tangling me in her snares. What’s worse is she doesn’t even know she holds that power. I finally get to the door that leads up to the top floor and sigh with relief. This day is not going how I thought it would.
After opening it, the penthouse door is on the other side. A long hallway leads to it as if it is some type of royal chapel. Chandeliers line the ceiling, reminding me of home, and the floor is a gorgeous black stone. I’m not sure what it is, but it reflects the chandeliers like diamonds.
“Finally,” Everly groans, and it’s the kind of sound that shoots straight to my cock. She sounded like that when we made love for the first time.
Made love. I snort. Since when do I think of fucking as making love? This woman has me all tangled up in knots.
I take the white and gold key card out of my pocket and swipe it over the black box on the door. It beeps. A light flashes green. The small black box beeps again. I pull the handle down and open the door wide to be greeted with a view of the mountains.
The same mountain my father and Barbara are lost on.
I won’t be able to enjoy the view since I know our parents are lost somewhere up there.
I sigh as the door shuts behind me. I’m in the same room as her, enclosed in the same space as Everly. Torture. Pure fucking torture. Karma must be laughing right now.
Walking deeper into the suite, I curse. I only see one large bed and a couch. This entire suite and there aren’t two beds or another room? How the hell am I supposed to concentrate when I have her in the room?
I put my hands on my hips and tilt my head back. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I sigh. The couch looks like it is made of stone, and the bed looks soft and bouncy. I love a bouncy mattress, but no way am I sharing it with her.
“I’ll take the couch.”
“Rowan, don’t be ridiculous. We are both grown adults. We can share a bed. I’ll make sure to put a line of pillows down the middle, so we don’t touch.”
“I’d rather not,” I let out a little harsher than I expected.
“This isn’t the time for that. Our parents are missing—”
“You don’t think I know that? What? You think I’m here on some vacation? You think the way I want to spend my time is with you, Everly? Let me make something crystal fucking clear. You are the last person I want to be with. I want to find them, go our separate ways, and never talk to you again. It shouldn’t be hard on you. You seem like a professional at it.”
Tears well in those green eyes. I see the fire. The urge to yell and fight back—the hurt. I don’t care, though. This is my chance to finally lash out, to finally tell her all the things that have been building up inside me. Maybe I want to break her heart the way she broke mine. An eye for an eye, but in this case—a heart for a heart.
I want her to fight back. I want her to yell, to scream, to shout. I want the anger. I want to see her fire.
But all she does is let out a heavy breath.
“Okay,” she says in a low breathless voice. “I’m going to shower. Help yourself to the bed. I won’t be using it.” She runs into the bathroom and slams the door so hard, it shakes the glass of the windows.
I run to the other side of the door, ready to yell through the thick metal, when I hear heavy sobs coming from the other side. The shower is on to try and drown out the sounds, but it doesn’t work. The water only adds static to the background of the heart-wrenching sobs. The cry is broken, coming from deep inside her chest. She chokes, coughs, and slams her fist against the wall.
At least, that’s what I assume it is.
I feel stupid. I want to make things right between us, but it seems nearly impossible, and a part of me thinks it shouldn’t be on me to make things right. All I want to do is break this door down and hold her tight. I want to be in that shower with her. I want to watch the water fall down her body and slide into her tight sheath; the one that haunts me to this day.
If now isn’t the time for us, then thinking about sex needs to be off the table, but my cock is so hard for her. So ready to take her again and slide home. That’s what she will always be. She’ll always be my home. As much as I want us to be able to fall into the routine of us again, I know that will never happen because we will never be a ‘we’ again.
I can’t be in here anymore. Her cries make me want to comfort her, and I can’t get past my own foolish pride to do anything about it. I place my hand against the large door, trying to think of something—anything—to say. I close my eyes, wishing things could be different between us. I wish I could go back all those years and never have sex with her. Maybe our friendship would still be as strong as I thought it was.
But the thought of not feeling her under me, her body against mine, her tight virgin walls hugging my virgin cock, makes the world seen more unjust than it already is. I roll my forehead left and right over the cold frame of the door and push back. I need out of here.
I toss a key on the bed, making sure she has a way to get in and out if need be, and run out the door, only to remember the elevator isn’t working, and my legs are still burning from trucking up the steps. I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t at this point. I turn around, take a deep breath, and walk back inside.
The key card feels like an escape route in my pocket, only it leads to a dead-end, since the elevator doesn’t work. I’m trapped in a room I can’t get away from. The water is still on, but her cries aren’t as loud anymore. They still echo off the acoustics of the bathroom walls, but they have a weeping quality about them. Not so much a deep wail.
It’s my fault she feels like this. And I feel guilty. I don’t want to feel guilty. I think I have no reason to, but there is a part of me somewhere, swimming along the darkened, damaged edges of my soul, telling me I should.
I slide down the wall that separates the bedroom and the bathroom and lean my head back. The only thing in sight right now is the large bed with a solid oak frame. A balcony catches my attention, and the doors are parallel to the bed. All one has to do is roll out of the massive pillowtop and slide the door open to reveal a picture only to be described in books.
But I can’t enjoy that. I’m not allowed to find beauty in this place because somehow, this place has captured my father and Barbara, and that just goes to show how much danger beauty can really hold.
The carpet feels good against my ass, but the tingling in my lower back screams at me to move. Soon, my rear will be numb sitting out here, but I want to wait. I want to see her.
The doorknob jiggles and opens, and billowing clouds of steam
escape the entryway from the hot shower Everly must have taken. She walks out. Wrapped in a small towel that falls right below the curves of her ass.
My eyes zero in. I wet my lips. My tongue aches for a taste of her.
“Oh my god!” She jumps when she sees me on the floor. “I thought I heard you leave, sorry. Just let me grab my clothes, and I’ll get out of your way.”
Something on her shoulder catches my eye, and I stand quickly, unbuttoning my sports coat, and I’m in front of her in two seconds, grabbing the strands of her wet hair and throwing it over her other shoulder. My breath catches as my eyes dart from her shoulder, to her face, back to her shoulder.
I run fingertips over the beautiful tattoo, her skin beading from the soft touch. I swallow the lump of emotion in my throat.
“Until the end of time and space,” I whisper, tracing the words softly with my fingertip. The butterfly makes me smile at the memory, and my eyes burn, threatening tears, but it must be allergies.
“You remember,” I choke.
“It’s my favorite memory. I can’t forget it.”
“It’s mine, too,” I say, never looking away. “When did you get this?”
“Four years ago. Right after I left.”
“I don’t understand. You left me, Everly. Why do you care? Why do this?” I ask, with no heat or anger in my tone, just sadness and confusion.
She lets out a heavy breath and turns around to grab her brush. Her towel is safely tucked in around her chest, and Everly starts running the harsh bristles through that thick, heavy hair. “I’ll always care.”
“But why?” I prod. I want to know.
“Because you’re my best friend, and I love you, Rowan.”
“Love doesn’t make you turn your back on the people you love,” I snap, yanking my hand away as if she had the capability to burn me.
“I know,” she answers.
That’s all she says.
My teeth grind together from the frustration. I don’t care about the stairs anymore. I’m just going to take them. I can’t be in here anymore. “I still don’t get an answer? After all this time? Do you even care? It’s been long enough. I think both of us can move on.” I take the key card out of my pocket, hoping she stops me.
“Nothing I say can fix the damage between us. Nothing I say will matter.”
I turn away from her, a million thoughts running through my head. And then I turn back around.
She’s still there, rooted to the spot, staring at me.
I don’t know what to do. I want to run away. I want to throw myself off that balcony. I want to hit a wall.
Instead, I reach my arms forward and clasp her shoulders. Everly looks up at me, her eyes shimmering. Her hands clutch her towel to make sure it doesn’t fall, and I sag my head, inches from her face, ready to spill my guts to her. I inhale her scent. It surrounds me, driving me absolutely wild. With trembling fingers, I take her face in my hands and sigh as the delicate edge of her jaw in my palms caresses my skin.
“You’d be surprised. Just tell me,” I whisper, with all the desperation I can manage.
Her cheeks change to a soft pink color, and her chest rises and falls in a rapid pace. Everly shuts her eyes, sinking into my touch. “I was eighteen and stupid, Rowan. I… I—”
But for some reason, I don’t want to hear anymore.
The distance between us closes, and our mouths crash together, for the first time in six years.
All a sudden, all my thoughts are thrown out the window, and we collapse against the wall in a tangle of elbows. We gasp and moan so loud; the noise travels into the bathroom and echoes. She feels so good. Her lips have gotten softer. Her tongue has gotten bolder.
It makes me wonder about the other men she has been with. It makes me clutch her towel as tight as I can, angry that there have been others after me. She is mine. She has always been.
My Everly.
But just as soon as it began, it’s over. The ferocious kiss breaks when I yank the towel off her and drop it to the floor. Everly gasps, the cold air running up her body and causing those pink, pale nipples to harden.
My eyes flicker down her face, to her chest, and the tattoo stands out more now because until the end of time and space—I’ll want her.
Just like this.
Naked, for only my eyes to see.
Chapter Sixteen
Everly
What. Is. Happening.
Am I dreaming? Because there is no way this is real. Rowan would never kiss me. Not after everything I’ve done.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, worrying my lip between my teeth.
He seems wild. The look in his eyes is far from sane. We can’t do this. We shouldn’t be here in this position. Even though I want it. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.
He runs his knuckles down my cheek, neck, and traces over my collarbone. My breath escapes my body in quaking sighs. “I wish I knew,” he says with a pinch of his brows.
I haven’t been this close to him in so long that I have no idea what to do. My hands are stuck to the wall, flat, unsure of how to handle this situation. I need to back away. I need to end this. But I’m trapped. The wall has my back, and Rowan has me caged in.
“Rowan.”
He closes his eyes and moans. “When you say my name like that…”
“Like what?” I whisper.
“Like even the taste of it makes you want me… you have no idea what it does to me.” His arms shake as he bows his head. The thick brown hair falls out of place as he runs his fingers through it, trying to grab hold of some type of sense or logic.
But when he glances down, he sees my naked body bared before him. He snaps his head up, stealing my breath. I gaze into his perfect face. His chiselled jaw, his perfect cheekbones. His dark pupils are dilated. Staring at me is a man that has been possessed. Black circles stare at me, the crystalline colored iris gone and replaced with desire.
His knuckles drag down my chest and over my nipple, causing it to bounce. He growls deep in his throat; the rumble sending me back to the cab of his truck all those years ago. I try not to react. I try and fight the wave of desire. For all I know, this is his way of getting back at me. He’ll rev my body up and then leave it, leaving me alone to throttle my engine.
“You’re still so beautiful, Everly,” he whispers with awe and captivation, as his eyes linger on my body. “I don’t understand this need I have for you.” He continues to slide his knuckles along to my other breast as he explains himself. “You’re so easy to get lost in. Nothing has ever been the same without you in it. I don’t understand it.” He journeys down my stomach, dipping his finger into the cave of my navel before drifting to the trimmed bush covering my pussy. “I’ve always loved this,” he says with a soft tug of my pubic hair.
I squeak with unexpected pleasure. A soft sting is left behind from the sweet, pleasurable pain of him pulling the course tendrils. My throat is dry from trying to get air into my lungs. I still have no idea what is going on, but since this is all I have ever wanted… I’m going to go along with it until he pulls away.
He smirks and keeps trailing his fingers over my pussy, teasing the slit with his fingers. He pushes my legs aside with force, making more room for himself as he explores.
Something he has never done. Hell, something I have never done.
I let out a gasp of surprise as he slips two fingers inside me. His entire body jerks from the motion, as if he flexed his hips instead. Rowan’s jaw drops with a moan. “You’re still so tight, so hot, and wet. Fuck, you’re so wet for me.”
Yes, for you. Only ever for you.
I whimper as he curls his fingers, overwhelmed by the sensation. I already feel close to the edge. Rowan has always had that effect on me. And with years of build-up in my system, I’m not surprised.
Rowan places his forehead on my shoulder, and his breath makes my skin pebble as it puffs over the curve. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he mutters with a pus
h of his thick digits.
I squirm in his hold, whining from the pressure inside me.
“I’ve dreamed of you in my arms again.” His lips press against the top of my shoulder, following the column of my neck until he is kissing me behind the ear.
“I have too, Rowan.” With trembling hands, I push under his sports coat and slip it off, revealing a tight, pale blue button-up shirt that hugs his biceps and chest perfectly. It is as if it’s tailored to his body—probably is.
“Kiss me,” he says, placing his lips directly in front of mine.
Like he has to ask twice! I grab his face with my hands and slam my mouth against his. My tongue duels with his, twisting and turning in a dance of emotion. The moment I start to dominate, he grabs my face with one hand and presses his lips harder against mine. I relent. I give into him like he likes and start to rock my hips against his fingers, needing more of him.
A growl travels down my throat from Rowan. He grips my right hip to keep it still.
“Take my shirt off,” he gasps inside my mouth.
Always with the demands, but I’m happy to comply.
With unstable fingers, I start at the top of his shirt and work my way down. I lick my lips as I see his exposed chest. Light brown hair covers his chest. And the curve of his pecs is sculpted and smooth, rippling with muscles. He really has grown in all the right places. I continue unbuttoning his shirt with slow, antagonizing touches. My fingers stroke his skin, ever so softly, with every unbutton of a clasp. Hard ridges and valleys come to view from his abdomen, and sandy dustings of hair travels over his skin here, too.
“Beautiful. Always have been,” I marvel with appreciation as I push the material off his broad shoulders and down his arms until it is nothing but a useless pile of material on the floor. I swallow thickly. Everything about him has changed. I explore him, taking my time as I run my fingers along the vein in his biceps.