Page 34 of At First Smile
“Goodnight, Pen.” He nods his head twice, turns, and then heads to his room across the small alcove. Once there he turns, his gaze meeting mine. A windstorm of confusion radiates off him. “I’ll wait until you’re in your room, so I know you’re safe.”
I nod, not knowing what else to say. Unlocking my door, I step in and pivot to face him.
“I’ll see you in the morning, luv,” he says and then slips into his room.
I could live in the way “luv” falls from his lips. It’s warm. It claims me as if I’m still in his arms and not standing alone – utterly confused and pulsing with want – in my room with a hallway and two doors between us.
“Goodnight, Rowan,” I whisper and shut my door.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cold Shower and Regrets
Rowan
“Fucking hell,” I grumble, closing my eyes.
For the second time in five hours, I seek refuge in the shower. Pen’s intoxicating presence crowds every crevice despite her being tucked safely in her room across the hall. The icy spray’s sting is powerless to quell the simmering heat in my bloodstream. My heart thrums as I imagine her supple body against me.
“You’re daft,” I chide myself, running my palm over my face.
I could be with Pen. Our limbs wrapped together while I explore every inch of her. Little whimpers escaping as my hands coast over her body. The rasp of my tongue as I learn that she tastes as sweet as I expect.
The scent of want wafting off her lingers in my nostrils. Like a ravenous wolf that found my meal, I almost salivate with need for her. She’s the only thing that will quench the hunger that riots inside me. Just an hour ago, we stood, her back pressed up against her door, her eyes dark with desire. Every sign that mydesire for her is reciprocated was there. The hitch of her breath. The staccato rise and fall of her chest. Taut nipples visible through her dress.
Shutting off the water, I get out of the shower and grab a towel. Disappointment flashes in my eyes in my reflection in the mirror.
The almost plane crash. The emotions of the day and shared truths. Too many drinks. It all colluded in a loud voice in my head shouting at me to walk away. To not take advantage. To not be like Alex.That fucker.No matter how many pints of Guinness I’ve had, the only regret that nips at me worse than the idea of waking up without Pen in my arms is the idea of her waking up and regretting being there.
Tugging on shorts and a T-shirt, I pace the length of the room. My body is still keyed up. My phone pings and I lunge for it, thinking…hoping it’s Pen until I remember we’ve not exchanged numbers. It’s something I’ll need to correct in the morning.
“If she’s speaking to me.” I let out a hard breath as I’m seized with the realization that I may have left her feeling rejected.
There’s nomaybeabout it. I did. The silkiness of her lips pressed against the corner of my mouth is a memory that will linger for a lifetime. The velvety smoothness of her voice singing to me still echoes in my ears. She all but served herself up on a silver platter and I just walked away.
Desperate for a distraction from the churn in my stomach, I look at my phone.
Wes: How’d it go?
Me: Fine.
Wes: Liar.
My forehead creases.
Wes: If it had, you’d be too occupied to answer your phone.
Me: Fuck off.
Wes: Seriously, how’d you fuck it up? I mean after seeing this it’s clear she’s into you.
I open the attached link, which takes me to a video on someone’s social media page. Clicking the video, Pen appears in that sexy good girl dress that drove me wild all night. It appears Stacy took the video and tagged Pen in it. The memory of her almost smokey singing voice crooning the song she dedicated to me dulls in comparison to seeing it live. Sexy. Sophisticated. Sweet. Delectable. Dangerous. They all flash in front of me as I drink her in.
Me: How’d you find this?
Wes: Calm down. I’m not internet stalking your girlfriend. I’m just one of her thousands of followers and set a notification for updates.Guilty Face Emoji.Ok, so maybe minor internet stalking.
Me: She’s not my girlfriend.
