It was an easier concept to accept than it was to execute.
Whipping into the first empty parking space I found, I didn’t even bother grabbing my duffel bag from the bed of the truck. I almost forgot to turn off the engine and remove the keys from the ignition. Jogging to Rowen’s first floor apartment, I fumbled with my key chain. She’d given me a spare key after clearing it with her roommate, Alex. I’d been relieved to discover Alex was short for Alexandria. Again, if Rowen had chosen to live with a male roommate, that wasn’t something I could control. I wouldn’t have liked it, but I trusted her.
Trust wasn’t just something I gave someone; it was something they had to prove. And Rowen had proven it again and again.
Alex worked at the same doughnut shop Rowen did. She’d helped Rowen get the job there and, since it was a Friday night, she wouldn’t come through the front door until the sun had come up. Alex lived life like it was going out of style, and weekends and all of the limitless adventures they held were not to be wasted.
After unlocking the door, I stepped inside and closed the door noiselessly. All of the lights were out except for the lava lamp bubbling in the window. The apartment was about the size of a shoe box, but Rowen and Alex had made good use of the space. Once I’d slipped off my boots at the door, I padded through the cubby-sized kitchen and headed for Rowen’s bedroom.
She always burned a vanilla candle when she was drawing or painting or molding or whatever other medium she was hard at work on, and I could still smell it. I’d associated with that smell with coming home, with finding my way back to her.
Her door was cracked open, like she knew I’d be showing up and was waiting for me. I slipped inside and leaned into the wall. Rowen wasn’t even ten feet in front of me, asleep in one of my white shirts that looked like a dress on her, her sheet tangled around her legs. I froze for a moment and just let myself . . . admire her.
That girl, that woman, was mine. And even though that was a hallmark I was intensely proud of, I was more sure and proud of something else.
I was hers.
It wasn’t a question. It had never been an option. It was something set into motion the day the universe was created, and thousands of years later, there we were. We’d found each other. I was hers, she was mine, we were each other’s. It was powerful stuff that hit me in moments like that. I knew it was the kind of profoundness that would get me labeled as a whipped sap, and I didn’t give a damn.
If people wanted to call me a whipped sap because I loved—loved—the girl lying in front of me, then bring it on.
After another minute, that ache of separation reminded me of its presence. Watching and musing time was over; I needed to be close to her. My need to be with her became so urgent I didn’t bother to slip out of my jeans. I just lowered onto the bed and slid across the mattress until every inch of me was curved around every inch of her. One arm slipped beneath her as the other one wrapped around her. I breathed the first full breath I’d taken since I’d said good-bye two weeks ago when she left Montana.
My intention wasn’t to wake her, but she always did, almost like she was waiting for me in her dreams. “You weren’t supposed to be here for another twenty hours,” she said in a sleep heavy voice. “Sleep deprivation. Falling asleep at the wheel. I like you alive and in one piece.”
I smiled and pressed my face into the curve of her neck. I inhaled, taking her in, and exhaled, letting her go. “I know.” I tightened my arms to feel her more solidly in them.
“You never listen to me.” She sighed, and it was more a contented one than a disgruntled one.
My smile spread. “I know.”
She twisted until her eyes locked onto mine. I couldn’t breathe when she looked at me that way. I’ve never been able to when those blue eyes of hers held the emotion they were capable of. I was just leaning in to cover her mouth with mine when her hand pressed into the side of my neck, stalling me.
“I’m glad you don’t.”
“I know,” I replied. “Me too.” I held my smile for another second before my mouth dropped to hers. Rowen sighed again, and before I gave my body permission, I’d shifted until I was holding my weight above her. The pace of our kissing never slowed.
Her hands moved for the buckle of my belt at the same time mine moved for the hem of her shirt. Rowen was kissing me, touching me, and loving me in all the ways I could ever want to be loved. She was expressing her love in ways I’d never even known existed the first five years of my life.
She’s love in human form, and even though I could tell she was still half-asleep and I was exhausted, I made love to her. We went slow and locked on to every touch like it was our first time all over again. When I moved inside of her, our combined sighs filled the room. And when our breathing turned into something heavier, I felt her unspoken words in her touch. She’d never loved, or never could love, anyone like she loved me.
Rowen Sterling consumed me.
Chapter Two
IT WASN’T EVEN seven in the morning, and I was smiling. Actually, I was almost beaming.
I’d never been big on that whole “exuberant facial expression” thing. And then I met Jesse Walker. And now I beam at quarter to seven in the morning. I put all blame on him because I didn’t think about it when he was around—smiling, that is—it’s just something I’m simply incapable of not doing when he was close by. I’d fondly nicknamed it the Jesse Walker Smile Curse.