Page 24 of Lords of Misrule
Charlotte
I walk into the den after I get my water, sliding back the pocket door behind me to keep the chaos of the party out but not fully shutting it. I should go to bed, but I’m nosy. Still wanting to watch this scene with Finn play out.
This way I can sit on the old leather couch and watch without having to be a part of it. With this current angle, I also get a good view of him posted up on the couch surrounded by a small fan base gushing over the way he played tonight—men and women alike.
I lean against the pocket door and take a sip of the water I should be chugging, peering at him through the slit in the doors. The cut under his eye is still fresh and red, his hair still a little damp, and the mask—he and the guys are still wearing them like it’s their new favorite thing—lays on the back of the couch behind him.
There’s a fangirl on either side of him, a brunette and another girl with blonde hair that fades into pink, and they’re both running their hands all over him. He looks at one with the occasional smile when she says something, and then changes his attention to the other, only pausing to answer questions about hockey. He’ll probably end up in bed with both of them tonight while I lay on the couch listening. Moving into this house has been a mistake. Even if I am less likely to get hurt by Steven here.
Suddenly there’s breath against my neck and over the back of my ear, an arm stretches out over my shoulder caging me against the door, and I hear an amused low raspy chuckle. My heart comes to a brief stop in my chest before it restarts, faster than before. Ihatethe effect he has on me.
“He never has found a threesome he didn’t like,” Rowan muses, his warm body brushing over mine from behind as he follows my line of sight. “Gonna be a disappointing night for you, Duchess.”
“Don’t you have better things to do? Misruling or whatever it is you’re the lord of tonight?”
“I needed a break.”
I’ve noticed that about Rowan. That sometimes it seems like all the crowds and chaos are too much for him, even at his games, and he retreats from it as quickly as he can. That some of his showmanship is false bravado. Not that he’d ever admit it.
The scent of berries wafts through the air, and I turn around to look up at him. His lashes sheltering his thoughts as he studies me.
“Are you wearing fruity cologne? Or did you just get mauled by a girl wearing a lot of it?” My lips quiver with amusement.
His brow furrows, and he holds up his hand, a blackberry between his thumb and forefinger before he pops it in his mouth, giving me a stormy look.
“That’s… a weird snack.” I raise a brow.
“They’re my favorite. Didn’t get a lot of fresh fruit at the one shitty grocery we had on our side of town, and if we did it was mostly rotten.”
“Fair.” I’d really only gotten the good kind that wasn’t old and half-rotten when we visited my grandmother. She had a huge garden and a small, forested area on her property where there were lots of wild berries. We’d lay in the grass and eat them while staring up at the sky trying to make sense of the shapes in the clouds.
He takes one and presses it to my lips, and I part them. He pushes it in with his thumb, and I crush down on the plump piece of fruit with my teeth. The sweet flavor rushing over my tongue as he puts another in his mouth. His eyes drift over my face, and his hand comes back to my chin, sliding underneath it as his thumb swipes over the corner of my lip.
There’s an intent look on his face like he’s remembering something, and I wonder if maybe he had the same kind of childhood memories I did. I wonder what little Rowan would have looked like. An innocent version of this man is hard to imagine.
“What?” I ask softly.
“Just thinking about what you’d look like spread out on a table covered in them. Drizzling blackberry liquor over these gorgeous tits.” His finger slides down in between the low vee of my shirt, his eyes following it.
It’s the last thing I expected him to say, though I should be used to it. It’s always something crass with him. Tender bonding moments are not his strong suit.
“Now you sound like Mitch.”
“He likes to drink that expensive whiskey collection of his off them?”
“He was more into toes than tits.”
“Was he?” His eyes light with mischief, and I immediately regret giving him any morsel of information. “That’ll be useful.”
“Useful for inspiring you?” I counter, trying to distract him from whatever scheming he’s doing as if it’s possible to redirect Rowan when he’s focused.
“Going to use it on the long list of things we do to bend him.”
“That’s cruel. You want your fetishes used against you?”
“Always.” A wry smile crosses his lips.
I roll my eyes, turning around to glimpse the party again and see that one of Finn’s companions has made her way into his lap. My gut churns at the sight of it, and I close my eyes. I need to go upstairs and go to bed like I told Hudson I would.
