by London James
Did Rowan seriously just give permission for me to date his best friend? “I think we both know he would do better with someone like Blaire.”
“Does that bother you?”
I slam my head on the wall of the elevator and groan from frustration. “What is it that you want, Rowan? No, it doesn’t bother me. I only see him as a friend, that’s all. Just as he sees me. He’s helped me when no one else could.” Or would. I wanted to ask for Rowan’s help so bad, but I know he would have laughed in my face and told me it was exactly what I deserved.
Well, that’s what I think anyway.
He doesn’t say anything in return. I guess it was the exhaustion in my voice, the worry, or something, I don’t know what it was, but it was enough to make him speechless. I’m waiting until he blows, though. This must be the calm before the storm. He’s going to let me have it. I’m not sure how long we are going to be stuck together, but something has to give.
And I had a feeling it’s me who will break from whatever he has to give.
I wipe the back of my neck. Sweat has started to gather along my hairline and is dripping down the column of my spine. “Do you think they are okay?” I ask, whispering in the dark to make sure I’m not by myself.
“I wish I knew,” he answers a few seconds later.
“They have to be, right? I mean, we can’t lose them, too.”
“I know. Both of us have lost enough.”
I swallow, wondering if he means the relationship between us.
“You smell different,” he says out of the blue, completely changing the subject.
I let out an offensive huff, “It’s hot in here, okay? I’m sweating. It’s snowing outside, and I’m sweating my body weight.”
He laughs. It’s almost eerie since it is in the dark, but knowing it is Rowan keeps my nerves steady. Even after all these years, I still feel safe around him. No matter how angry we are at each other. “No. I don’t mean in a bad way. You changed your perfume. It’s still sweet, but more flowery.”
It’s a good thing it is dark, or he would be able to see how red my cheeks are. “Yeah, I changed it. They call it ‘wild honeysuckle’.”
“It smells good, even through the sweat.”
“Rowan! Are you saying I smell bad right now?”
“I’m just saying, both of us probably are a little rich right now, okay?” The mirth in his voice makes me smile.
“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything but…” I leave my sentence hanging to make him think he stinks. He doesn’t. He smells like cologne. It’s light and airy, kind of like the ocean, but mixed with sandalwood. It’s different from the last one. I guess we both upgraded.
“You’re full of it. I smell like damn sunshine and man.”
“And man?” I giggle. “Aw, whatever you need to tell yourself.”
“You’re still a little shit, still. Aren’t you?”
“Aren’t you?” I mock him, as if we are fifteen again.
“I ought to make you sleep in here while I sleep like a baby in the suite.”
His statement makes reality crash down. The suite. His life. His hatred for me. For a minute, I forgot about everything. “I’ve been keeping track of you and Gray with the company. I know it doesn’t mean anything, but I’m proud of you both. The company has grown so much. You must be so busy.”
“Thanks. Yeah, it’s been a journey, Gray is handling everything right now while we search for dad and Barbara.” He pauses and lets out a deep breath. I swear, I can feel the warmth dancing over my skin, even if I am on the other side of the elevator. “And you’re wrong. It means a lot, Everly. Thank you.”
I don’t say anything back. What’s there to say? Besides ‘I love you still’. And that will make an already awkward conversation completely unbearable. I want to comment on how good he looks. I want to tell him how sorry I am for ruining everything, but now isn’t the time. Not while we are trapped in a metal cube, sweating our asses off and needing to find our parents.
My head thuds against the wall, and I shut my eyes.
“Everly?”
“Yeah?” But we are interrupted by the door being plied apart. “Finally.”
I wince as I think of how that sounded. I’m just happy we are out of the elevator, but I wish Rowan and I could actually sit down and talk. Maybe being in the elevator was my chance to say what I needed to say, but fear held me back. The time and place doesn’t matter as long as it is said.
How many times do I need to tell myself that?
The clerk from the front desk peaks her head in when the doors are finally opened. I want to narrow my eyes at her and tell her to get lost. “Oh, thank goodness. Mr. Michaels, your stay is free here, for however long you need to stay.”
Yeah, I bet she wants him to stay forever.
“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Rowan nods, lifting himself up on the floor to push himself through the gap since we are between floors.
All those scary movies start to run through my mind. I imagine the elevator falling, breaking Rowan’s body in half and me plummeting to the bottom of the building. I’d crumble and dissipate with the metal tin.
He’s there, and then in one quick moment, his feet disappear, and all I hear is a loud metallic crash. I can’t see him.
“Rowan!” I scream, throwing my hand over my mouth from the fear possessing my body.
“Oh, Eve,” his voice drifts down, as he gets through the gap and then lays down flat, holding his hands out to help me up. “You’re watching those scary movies again.”
I could cry with relief, seeing him alive and well. I grip his arms and nod, fighting back the tears. When our skin touches, it’s an entirely new sensation. Desire, nostalgia, and love. He feels it too because his breath catches, and his eyes dilate. Electricity zaps between us. Maybe static, maybe something else.
I’ll never know.
And Rowan doesn’t seem to want to feel it anymore because he yanks me up through the gap until my body is safely out of the elevator and puts me on the floor.
“Are you guys okay?” one of the firefighters calls over.
“Fine. Just a little dehydrated is all,” Rowan answers and gets up to his feet, completely ignoring me and shutting me out.
It makes sense. We are around other people now. The spell is broken, and he has awakened from the trance. “How long before we can get upstairs?” he asks.
“Another twenty or so minutes, I’m afraid.”
“We can always take the stairs,” I suggest. “How much further is the penthouse?”
“Eight more floors,” Becky explains.
Becky. What kind of name is Becky, anyway?
“But I’ll be glad to buy you a drink to pay for your trouble?” she asks Rowan.
Rowan puts his hands on his hips and tilts his head up to the ceiling. His face is red from the heat, and sweat is dripping off his temples, cascading down his cheek. He lets out a laugh under his breath and shakes his head.
“Listen, I’m sure you’re a nice girl. Maybe. But we are here to find our parents that are lost on that mountain right now. So no, I don’t want to get a drink with you, today, tomorrow, or any other day. I have more pressing matters at hand.”
He walks toward the stairwell, and Becky’s jaw hits the floor from his audacity. Ha. I turn my nose up and follow Rowan to the stairwell that leads to the penthouse. I should feel bad for the girl, but I don’t, even though I know what it’s like to be on the side of him that doesn’t like you.
I’m still on that side, but she doesn’t need to know that.
Rowan is in front of me, and my eyes wander to his firm bubble butt. The muscle flexes as he opens the door to showcase the stairs. “You ready for this?”
The words make me stumble, and I run right into his back, feeling the soft globes of his butt that are still somehow firm. How? Mine is just soft…
“What?”
“The stairwell. Are you ready? It’s a lot of steps.”
As long as I ge
t to follow behind him to watch his backside, I’ll be alright.
I just need to make sure he doesn’t know I’m looking at it.
“I’m fine. Let’s go. I want to take a shower.”
He nods and takes the first step. The sound of our shoes echo off the walls with every step we take. We are huffing by the time we get to the third floor. I’m exhausted. I’m sweating. I smell like elevator. I had no idea that was a smell, but I swear, it is. And the only thing keeping me motivated is Rowan’s butt. I have no right to look at it.
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 15
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 massiv
e 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.”