Page 86 of Fighting Spirit

“Yeah.” I lean my forehead against his shoulder. His arm comes up to wrap around me like he doesn’t know he’s doing it, and my stomach flips, warmth spreading through me. “Me too.”

“It feels like I should act differently. I don’t know, I don’t know what to do.”

“I think we just do what we always do,” I mumble into the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll give you shit, and you can sigh like you wish you’d never met me.”

He sighs that put-upon sigh.

“That’s the one.” I grin up at him. “Come on, let me feed you.”

I manage to scrounge up some leftovers which Rowan gratefully accepts. He barely pauses for breath as he eats the day-old mac and cheese, like he hasn’t had a proper meal in days. He must be really hungry if he’s not even going to mention the dairy-free cheese sauce and the wheat-free noodles.

“When was the last time you ate?” I giggle at him as he scrapes the plate clean.

“Lunch,” he says a little sheepishly. “I eat a lot during the season.”

I grin. “Do you want anything else?” I ask as I turn back to the fridge. He doesn’t say anything as I dig around, looking for something else I can give him. “Ro?”

He clears his throat. “No, no, I’m good.”

I shut the door, leaning back against it. The look in Rowan’s eyes might have made me stumble if I hadn’t had it holding me up. It’s all heat, some kind of blazing hunger that pierces through me. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.There’s nothing really to say, not when he’s looking at me like that.

“Come over here.”

My feet move like they’re possessed, like he’s suddenly the gravity in the room. As soon as I’m within arm’s reach, he takes hold of my waist and tugs until I’m positioned between his spread thighs. “Is this okay?” he asks.

I nod as I reach to trace a line down the side of his face. His touch is light against my sides, a barely there caress as they move up and down my ribs. In turn, I run my hands through his hair, the waves soft as they tangle against my fingertips. “I’m really happy you’re here,” I whisper.

I gasp as his fingers creep under the hem of my t-shirt, brushing against the skin of my back. I hadn’t thought a touch could cause this kind of reaction, but I’m figuring out that with Rowan, it’s better if I just forget everything I think I know.

His fingers travel further, a slow exploration as he walks them up my spine. My top goes with him as it catches on his arms. I think he’s going for my bra and I start shifting in anticipation, but before he gets that far, he stops, resting his palms against my skin, fingers splayed like he’s trying to touch as much of me as possible.

“Can we go to your room?” he asks. His eyes widen as he hears himself, a flush creeping up his cheeks. “I’m not being presumptuous. I just keep thinking about your roommate coming back out here. I’m not really up to being social right now.”

I bite my lip, steeling myself to be brave, to put myself out there. “You can be a little presumptuous if you want to be,” I whisper. I want him so badly I’m half on fire with it, want anything he’ll give me.

“Yeah?” His fingertips flex against me and I wonder if he’s holding himself back. I wish he wouldn’t.

I nod against his hair. He puffs out a breath and I assume he’s going to release me so we can go, but faster than I can react, his hands come under my things and he stands, hoisting me up with him in one movement. “Jesus!” I exclaim, clinging on like he’s about to try and throw me across the room. Not that I’d be opposed to that in theory… I’d just need a bit of a heads-up.

As he heads to my door, his long strides eating up the space, I thank whatever impulse it was that had me straightening up my room this morning. I muffle my squeals of laughter in his neck, not wanting to disturb Georgie.

The click of the door shutting behind us echoes like a cannon in the quiet. Rowan seems to lose whatever confidence possessed him to carry me through the apartment and lowers me to the ground. I have to stifle a moan as I slide the length of his body until my feet hit the carpet, relishing the delicious friction. His hands don’t leave my waist, not letting me get far. “Are we doing this?” he asks softly.

“I’d like to,” I say, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from his eyes, “if you do as well?”

I get his answer when he crowds my space, not quite kissing me but keeping his mouth brushing mine, foreheads together as he moves forward. He walks us back until my knees hit the bed, and I go down.

There’s something heady about the way he looks at me, sprawled out below him. This is a far cry from the awkward grump I’m so fond of. This is the version of Rowan that comes out on the field, focused, in control.

His jaw ticks once as he leans down, his weight causing the bed to dip. I scoot back to give him some room, but he comes with me, moving like magnets. I don’t know if I’ve ever wanted anyone the way I want him right now.

I keep backing up until I’m sat with my back against the headboard, Rowan by my knees. He doesn’t look at me, evenas he runs a hand absentmindedly up and down my shin, the nerves from earlier back. The way he’s blowing so hot and cold makes me uneasy, worried I’ve read something wrong here. I have to remind myself that this is Rowan, who’s given me no reason not to trust him.

Maybe it’s because he’s always so forthright, but I always know where I stand with him. I’m so used to trying to guess what other people are thinking and who they want me to be. With him, I never have to bother. He’s such an open book. I always know exactly what he wants, and so far, all he seems to want is me, just as I am.

“Can I tell you something?” His voice is quiet, something in it makes me want to curl myself around him and make sure nothing can get close.

“Of course.” I settle for picking up his other hand and twining our fingers together, bringing it up to press a kiss against his knuckles.

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