Rowan: Woodsmen and City Girls

by Amber Burns

  He reached down and again collected the cup of coffee and the bacon and toast. He offered them towards her, and she dropped the empty cup onto the blankets and took the dishes from his large, calloused hands. She grabbed at the bread in her unsteady fingers and used it to pick up the thick slice of bacon. Carefully, focusing hard on steadiness, she brought the food to her lips. The flavors exploded across her palate, and her eyes rolled back in pleasure. The fat and grease soothed her head, and she felt some semblance of sanity returning to her mind. As she polished off the breakfast, her heart slowed its rapid pace, and she was able to sip at her coffee calmly, almost peacefully.

  Rowan watched her as she ate, the way a doctor might watch his sick patient. When she had finished her breakfast, he took the plate gently from her hands and walked through the doorway and out of Nina’s sight, into another room. She heard the pleasant sound of rushing water and imagined his strong arms forcing soap suds across the greasy trails of bacon grease. Her eyes began to slide shut again, and she placed the cup of half finished coffee upon the floor, her body slipping down towards the warm hug of pillows and quilts once again. Just as sleep was about to wrap its comforting arms around her, Rowan returned to the room and stood by her side.

  “Hey, lady?” he said softly. His voice was no longer as rough and harsh as it had been in the forest the night before. Now it sounded gentle, smooth, like dark marble.

  “Huh?” Nina responded, her eyes fluttering closed.

  “You asked me, so I was supposing it was only fair,” he began. He stuck his hands into the pockets of his well-worn jeans and looked down at the pale girl sliding away into sleep. “What’s your name?”

  Nina pulled the blankets up to her chin and turned her mouth towards him.

  “Nina,” she murmured.

  He watched as her pink lips shaped the two syllables and he swore that they looked as if they were dancing the most beautiful dance.

  “Nina,” he repeated, savoring the word, how it twinkled upon his tongue, his lips. He smiled and looked over the girl, now fast asleep.

  “Well, Nina,” he whispered. “you get some rest. I’ll be here. I’ll keep you safe.”

  ***

  Nina rolled over, pushing the blankets back from her form, pushing sleepiness away from her fluttering eyes. She yawned and reached her arms up towards the ceiling, her body enjoying the feeling of being pulled gently to and fro after a long and still slumber. She pushed herself upwards and found that morning light still spilled in through the glass windows. She pushed the blankets back and squinted out the window, her nose pressed to the glass. It was most certainly still morning, the sun hung low in the sky, just daring to peek its golden head above the the centers of the trees. She spied several horses rustling each other awake with playful whips of their tails. Nina shimmied forward, releasing herself from the warm folds of the blankets. She pressed her fingers against the iron latch that sat at the center of the glassy panes and pressed. The window sprung open easily, and the smell of fresh morning air seeped in towards her, washing her in wakefulness. It was most certainly morning. She felt rested; her head throbbed still, but now the pulsating pain was more of a background sound. More like a persisting annoyance than an all possessing sensation. She ran her fingers through her hair and discovered that a large lump crowned the right side of her head. She winced as she poked at it gingerly; still very tender to the touch. Nina pulled the window shut and placed her feet down onto the hardwood floor.

  The fireplace sat empty, barren of flames, which she was instantly thankful for; it was hot and humid. Beads of sweat worked their way down her neck; rivulets of sweat snaked down her chest and dribbled between her breasts. She ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face. She lifted her shirt and mopped at the sweat that had begun to pour over her body. She realized then that she was very warm indeed and, to her disgust, that she smelled rancid.

  “Oh god,” she coughed, sniffing at herself. “Ohhhh my god. Holy shit. Ew.”

  She desperately glanced side to side, looking for somewhere she could strip her clothes and scrub her body clean. Feeling awkward, she decided to stay put and instead seek Rowan’s help. She cleared her throat and stretched her voice.

  “Rowan!” she called. She waited and listened. The house remained quiet except for the shifting of the floor boards and the soft brushing of tree branches against the window panes. She waited, then opened her mouth again. “Rowan!” she called again, a bit louder this time.

  Her eyes narrowed as she concentrated on listening for his response. Still, no answer came. Nina sighed and walked out of the fireplace room and into the next. She found herself in a small sort of kitchen and dining area, home to impressive floor to ceiling windows. A huge gas cooking range sat against the wall, and an ice box rubbed shoulders with a sink. Nina found a collection of bright red, tiny tomatoes sitting in a hand-woven basket upon the smooth, stone countertop. She popped up onto her tip toes and reached a hand into the depths of the basket and plucked a single tiny tomato from the pile. She popped it into her mouth and chewed. An explosion of sweetness warmed her taste buds. She reached for another, popped it into her mouth, and wandered down a small, short hallway lined with framed polaroid pictures. She paused, sucking on the tomato, considering the pictures.

  “So are you also a photographer, then?” She heard herself ask aloud as she ran her fingers over the framed images and shook her head. “Rowan, Rowan, Rowan.” She let the name sit upon her tongue, rolled it around in her mouth, tasting the way every syllable felt upon her lips, rubbing against her throat. “Who are you?”

  One Polaroid featured the cabin, clad in the feathery magic of a dusty snowfall, a dog sitting proudly by its front door. Another framed photo starred a stranger laughing, her dark hair pulled away from her face in a messy bun, her dark eyes alight with life. Nina turned and found herself face to face with a photo of a horse, a close up of its face, its nostrils pressed against the lens. Its eyes were blinking long eyelashes at the camera, as if ready for its close up. She grinned and swallowed the tomato, then continued her walk down the short corridor. Then she turned and stopped.

  “Oh,” she said suddenly. “Well then.”

  The hall ended with a doorway. The door stood shut, a tarnished bronze knob protecting anyone from entry. She considered the closed door for a moment, then rested her hand upon the knob. She drummed her fingers against the tarnished bronze for a moment, thinking.

  He has been very open with me so far… almost shockingly honest, and open. But how do I even know that that is actually the truth, this sort of personality that he is, like, presenting to me? She eyed the door, her pulse quickening with intrigue. Out of bounds seems like the perfect invitation to me, Nina thought. Maybe, like, a chance to see who this Rowan really is. And with that, she pressed her fingers firmly around the doorknob and twisted.

  The door swung open slowly, revealing a small, tidy bedroom. A tightly made bed sat in the corner, and another rusted iron wood stove sat beside it. The nubs of melted candles spilled over the edges of old pop bottles, decorating the edge of the bedroom’s window ledge. A stack of books climbed upwards, spines brushing the ceiling. Nina’s mouth dropped, and her eyes spilled into green circles of disbelief as she noted that shelves of books filled every spare space of the bedroom wall. She took a step forward into the bedroom, her bare foot pressing against the floor boards, causing them to sigh pleasantly beneath her weight. She eased forward, slowly, carefully, the feeling that she was trespassing bubbling up in the center of her chest. It was both anxiety inducing and delicious, she realized. She made her way across the pale wood floorboards until she held her face inches from the nearest span of soaring books. She reached out her fingers and carefully brushed their spines.

  The books were soft and welcoming; they seemed to beg her to touch them. She began to walk slowly around the room, dragging her fingers across their spines, feeling her own spine shiver with delight as she made her journey across th
is forbidden bedroom of a stranger. It was as she turned the corner and found herself suddenly aware of the presence of another person.

  Nina froze, her fingers still playing upon the spine of a thick, darkly covered book, her eyes unblinking, staring straight ahead. She turned slowly and found Rowan standing in the doorway, a white towel hanging loosely from his waist, his chest bare, his hair damp. She gasped, trying to find words.

  “I… I just…” She stuttered over and over.

  “Hi,” Rowan said, leaning against the door frame.

  His body was impossible not to look at it. She found her green eyes wandering over his chiseled chest, his perfect abs…Her gaze traced the shape of his thighs, pressing against the tight white towel, the way the cotton fabric stretched across his crotch. She found herself mesmerized by the way the patterns of black ink carved pictures across his perfect skin; her eyes became tangled in the rolling of black and red, the roiling of green and blue painting his body into a true work of art. She blinked and swallowed, but still, the moment held its magic; the image was impossibly beautiful. Droplets of liquid clung to his upper lip, danced in his beard as they caught the early morning light that spun its way through the glass window panes. She found herself dropping her hands from the soft touch of the books and pressing them breathlessly against her chest. Her heart leaped as Rowan dropped his arms from the door frame and took a single step forward. The towel flashed slightly open, and Nina glimpsed a split second’s image of his hard, muscular thigh. She bit at her lip.

  “What are you doing in here?” Rowan asked, crossing to his bed. He grabbed a shirt from the shelf above his headboard and wrestled it over his head. Nina watched his back muscles work to pull the material over his mass of wet, black hair. He shoved the sleeves up, displaying the rivets of his muscular arms. She swallowed again as he turned to look at her, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

  “Oh,” she gasped, realizing he had posed a question and she had not yet answered. She looked down at her bare feet, her sweaty pants, then glanced back up at him. As she did so, he ran a hand through his damp hair, tossing it gently back from his face. Her heart skipped.

  “I… I was just looking for the like… the coffee,” she sputtered. She willed her cheeks not to blush and forced herself to hold his gaze. Rowan stared at her for a moment, then nodded and grinned.

  “Alright,” he said. “I bet. I mean you’ve been out for two days now, you probably need a good reviving sip, huh?” He turned his back to her and reached beneath his bed, his hand returning with a pair of faded jeans in tow. He unfolded the pants and undid their fastenings.

  “What?” she said. She glanced again at the window, and then the smell of her body odor hit her again, full in the face. She winced and took a step back from him. “Okay, like ya, that makes sense, because I smell like a fucking horse.”

  Rowan laughed, his face cracking into a pleasant expression.

  “Hey now, don’t you be insulting my horses. Those babies are beauties,” he teased.

  Nina smiled and raised her hands.

  “Okay… like, a horse that rolled in manure and then didn’t like do anything about it for at least, like, a week. Is that better?”

  Rowan squinted at her, his grin growing. He loosened his towel.

  “Yea,” he agreed. “I’ll give you that one. This time.”

  Rowan leaned forward and grabbed a loose handful of Nina’s vibrant hair. He pressed it to his face and breathed in. He pulled his face back, mocking disgust, and dropped the hair back to her shoulder.

  “Oh, gross,” he mocked, waving his hand in the air as if to banish a terrible smell. “Jeez, you really do smell like horse shit.” He ran a hand through her hair, and she felt her cheeks flush while her heart skipped. Then he grinned at her and winked. He turned his back to her, then turned his head back and nodded towards the water spigot that stood proudly outside the house. “You can go wash up out there, alright? There are buckets and some soap.”

  Nina stared at him for a moment, uncomprehending.

  “Wait…” she began. “You want me to just like, get showered and shit? Outside?”

  Rowan did not even turn around to face her.

  “Yep,” he said. “I mean, unless you don’t really feel like washing up. Because honey, that’s all there is out here. Sorry, but it’s kind of, hm, what was that endearing thing you called it? Oh, right: the middle of fucking nowhere.”

  Nina stared for a moment in disbelief. Then, realizing she was serious, she turned and stalked out the door. As she turned the corner back into the small hallway, she saw Rowan out of the corner of her eye; he dropped the towel, let it slide down his waist, exposing his muscular ass. Then he shimmied into his light jeans and turned so quickly she did not have a second to run.

  “What are you waiting for?” he said calmly. He grinned. “Get washed up.”

  ***

  Nina stood in front of the iron spigot, staring it down angrily.

  “Okayyyy,” she breathed, pressing her hands against her thighs. “Alrighttt.”

  She cleared her throat and glanced around, expecting to encounter a surprise crowd of people. There was no one in sight, only the horses, who did not seem to care at all about her presence. The trees surrounded the clearing, bowing slightly to her in the wind, as if exulting her body. She took a breath and yanked her pants from her body, shimmying her round ass out of the confining material. As she stripped the tartan from her legs, the wind picked up, and her skin seemed to sing at the touch of fresh air pressing against it after so many days. She raised her hands suddenly and tilted back her head. The wind eagerly responded, grabbing at her and playing through it; kissing her cheeks the color of rose petals. She laughed and found herself spinning in circles, and the sheer ridiculousness of it made her laugh even more. When she finally stopped spinning and opened her eyes, she found herself face to face with Rowan. He was smiling, staring at her, his beard playing with the wind, his eyes alive with joy.

  “You like it?” he asked, and although he didn’t even finish the sentence, Nina found herself nodding, smiling, laughing in agreement.

  “Yes,” she said, and she took a step forward. She reached out a hand and pressed it against his stomach, her fingers finding the outlines of his abs. She breathed in as her pulse quickened, then looked up at him, her eyes a dangerous shade of green. “I really like it.”

  Rowan looked at her for a moment, his face unreadable, his eyes black pools of temptation. Then in one motion he leaned forward, grabbed her roughly and pulled her towards him, and pressed his lips against her own. Nina gasped and pressed her lips against his face. He held her tenderly yet roughly against him, his abs heaving and pressing into her torso, his hips pushing against her own in a way that made her gasp. Her tongue flicked against the roof of his mouth, and he felt himself beginning to harden. He ran his fingers through her mane of hair, daring to burn his tattooed flesh against the fiery tendrils of her mane, daring to be burned, if only to roll with her in heated bliss for a few moments. He cupped her face and kissed her fiercely, tenderly, his fingers tracing the outline of her cheek, her hands running down his back, grabbing at his ass, his hips, then finally, finally, and his eyes began to roll back in bliss, sliding beneath his shirt and slinking downwards towards his crotch.

  That was when he stopped. He pulled away from her roughly, so suddenly that she startled, her eyes flashing open with green electricity, her hair flying backward in the wind. He picked her up under one arm and threw her down against the soft ground. She cried out in pleasure, her fingers slinking beneath her shirt, caressing her breasts. He grinned and peeled his own shirt back away from his body, revealing his impossibly toned stomach, the inky snake dangerously slinking up and down his center. His chest heaved up and down in time with the rhythm of her own writhing. This made his dick throb. He reached down and undid his pants. Her eyes widened, and she pinched both her nipples, her lips hanging open, her legs trembling with eager anticipation.

&nbs
p; “Oh, fuck,” he breathed, and he walked slowly over her, a predator readying himself to pounce on his prey. “Oh holy fuck, sweet, sweet Nina, baby.” Rowan dropped to his knees over her body, turning back and forth with eagerness. “Mmm.”

  He ran his fingers up and under her shirt. His tattooed hand caught open her right breast, and he bit his lip, stared at her in her green eyes. He pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and twisted lightly. Nina’s eyelids fluttered, and she breathed out.

  “Ohhh,” she cried, her lips parting in joy. “Yes, Rowan, yes, please.”

  Rowan grinned, leaned forward, brushed his long hair from his eyes. He pulled Nina up towards him suddenly, roughly, rolling up her shirt and undoing her bra all in one smooth movement. Her hands traced the back of his head, and her lips fell upon his cheek. She bit at his ear, and he snarled back. He ripped the bra from her body and threw the shirt to the ground. Then he pressed her back down to the grass, hard, and ran his hands over her naked body. He had to grit his teeth as his fingers traced her tight stomach. He ran his hands up her body and was thrilled as her form responded. Her light flesh tilted and shivered at his touch, and her back arched up in reaction to how he ran his fingers up her stomach. He traced her breasts with both his hands, running his fingers over the soft flesh that framed her nipples. Then he looked her directly in the eyes, his face serious, his eyes filled with dangerous lust. He gripped both her perfect, pink nipples in his fingers and squeezed. Then he lowered his face to her breasts and wrapped his lips around her nipple. She breathed out in ecstasy, and he sucked at her nipple until her eyes shut with joy. He released it from his mouth and ran his fingers through her hair.