Page 54 of Late Nights & Love Lines
The door opens, and Rowan exits, staring down at her phone with pinched brows and turned-down lips.
“You’re good at your job.”
She screams and jumps into some messed-up version of a karate chop that has her bobbling her phone. I catch it right before it hits the porch.
“What the hell, Sebastian? We’re in the middle of nowhere. You can’t sneak up on people like that! I thought you were a chainsaw murderer here to chop off my fingers and toes one by one while feeding them to the pigs or something.”
“That’s…oddly specific.” I chuckle.
“Some kid told me a crappy story at camp when I was nine. I never went pee in the middle of the night again.”
Taking her hand, I weave it through my arm and head down the stairs, taking it as a win when she doesn’t pull away. “I promise to save you from all the chainsaw murderers.”
She stiffens next to me, and I hold my breath. Is this where she’ll pull away?
“That’s the problem,” she mutters. “I’m not the kind of girl you need to save. I’ve been saving myself for a very long time. It’s all I know.”
I stop walking and take her hands in mine so she can’t escape. I almost chuckle when her clammy palms settle in against mine.
“Are you saying you’re too old to learn new tricks?”
“Are you calling me a dog?”
“No, but I wouldn’t mind collaring you,” I deadpan.
Her expression is priceless—wide-eyed and blushing. I bend at the waist and bring my lips to her ear. “I’m joking, Rowan. Unless you’re into that kind of thing…and then I could be persuaded.” I stand upright, so close her body heat penetrates my armor. “I’m all for trying new things with you.”
My soul is already lighter. This banter, these exchanges with her are so real, so raw. There’s none of the practiced etiquette my father shoved down my throat from the time I could sit at a table or pretenses meant to trick me into love.
Rowan Ellis is the light shining through on my darkest days.
Her cheeks flame a delicious shade of pink before she slaps me in the chest with the back of her hand. I recapture it and begin walking again.
“What’s wrong with you?” She attempts to sound offended, but the tremor in her words gives her away.
“You’re excited by that idea, Rowan, don’t try to deny it. The pulse point in your neck is beating so fast you’d think it was following Dave Grohl’s drum solo, and you blush so prettily I want to trace it with my tongue.”
I feel more than hear her sharp intake of air, and this time, she’s the one to stop so she can poke me in the chest. “I’ve spent the last seventeen years of my life making sure I’m not tied to anyone’s rules, oppressive standards, straight-up lies, or viciousoutbursts. I’m not about to start any of those now because of a stupid flutter in my belly.”
Her righteous indignation would hit harder if she didn’t shiver as I run my palms down her biceps. But she’s also given me more than she intended to, and hope blooms in my chest as wild and uncontrollable as the flutter in her belly.
“You get butterflies around me?” My voice is six shades past husky—I want this woman with a passion I can’t control.
“What?” she demands, and her lashes flutter as though her wheels are spinning trying to figure out what she said. Her mouth pops open into a perfect O-shape the moment realization hits. “No, that’s not what I mean. Did you hear anything else that I said?”
Entwining her clammy hand with mine, I lead us down the beach. What will make her tug it away this time? I might be a sick fuck because I love this push and pull with her.
“Oh, I heard you.” I don’t even attempt to mask the lust in my tone, though I do lower my voice. “I heard every word. But if there’s any part of you that thinks I would ever try to contain you, or hurt you, you don’t know me very well.”
She leans in closer.
When my lips reach her ear, I say, “And I know that you know me. So the only thing that matters is that you get butterflies around me. It’s a very good sign.”
“It’s not a sign,” she squeaks.
I hold up our joined hands and tap my thumb against her tattoo. “Sure seems like a sign.”
She tries to tug her hand away, but I lift our joined ones and kiss the back of hers, one knuckle at a time.
