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And it’s true—nothing tastes bitter. She’s sweet, delicious, perfect. Crafted just for me by some higher being who wanted to show me that good things still exist in this world.
Rowan’s fingers flick the buttons of my shirt open as her hands crawl hungrily over my chest. She pushes the fabric off my shoulders, then moves to tug at my belt. Her eyelids hang low, lips still glistening with my kiss—and my God, she looks like the sexiest woman in the world.
I let her tear my belt off and tug my pants down. When she wraps her fingers around my cock, I let out a low groan. I reach down her skirt and beneath her underwear to the sweet honey between her legs. When I touch her, Rowan shivers, moaning gently.
I could listen to that moan on repeat and never get sick of it. I could watch her eyelids flutter and her mouth form a soft O. I could kiss every inch of her until the day I die, and I’d be a happy man.
Me. Happy.
I never would’ve thought it could happen—but with Rowan, it’s possible.
As I tease the pleasure out of her, I love the way her face relaxes. How her mouth falls open and a little whimper slips through her lips. She pumps my cock in short jerks before getting lost in her own lust, forgetting about her hand on my shaft for a few seconds. I watch her orgasm build as her nipples harden, her stomach clenching, back arching. I drink in the sight of her like this, just for me.
And I love it. I want more of it. Every day, all the time.
I want Rowan.
Not because she’s an angel. Not because I found her in the snow and brought her back to life. Not because I’m looking for someone to save or to protect.
Because she doesn’t need me to do that for her. She’s strong and brave and beautiful. She comes on my hand, digging her fingernails into my arms as her legs tremble on either side of me. My cock throbs, leaking precum against her stomach as she clings onto me.
And fuck, I want this. Really want this. I want everything Rowan’s willing to give me. I don’t want this to have an expiration date or a long list of conditions.
I want Rowan to be mine. Forever.
“Wolfe…” she whispers, eyes hazy. Her hand finds my cock again, rubbing me as the last thrills of her orgasm make her body buck and grind against me. I pull my hand out of her pants and wrap it around hers, still gripping my shaft. I love the way her eyes widen and her breath shortens as I pump my cock with her fist.
Her other fingers crawl up my chest as her legs wrap around my hips, holding me close. The heat of her core presses up against me as I jerk myself off with her hand.
“I want to see you come, Wolfe,” she whispers, glancing at me through thick lashes. She bites her lip, and that’s what does me in. I grunt, spurting hot, white seed onto her stomach as she grips my cock and clings onto my body, grinding herself against me as I finish.
My lips find hers as my chest heaves, but I’m not quite ready to back away. There’s a glow around us. Inside me, a desire burns to tell her everything I feel.
I want her beside me. She’s given me life. Hope. Maybe even love. She’s shown me that life isn’t over because of a loss—no, maybe it can be even sweeter, because now I know how true pain feels. Now that I’ve seen the darkness, I can appreciate the light.
But as we fall apart and I stare at her flushed face, words stick to my throat. She giggles, reaching for a tissue to wipe my seed off her stomach, shooting a cheeky grin my way. “That wasn’t exactly the royal welcome I was expecting.”
“What other welcome would I give you?” I grin, but my words feel empty. What I want to say is, stay. Be here with me, but not as an architect. Walk out onto a balcony and hold my hand in front of an army of photographers. Let me kiss you on the steps of the palace as the world watches.
Rowan wipes the last of my orgasm off her stomach, and my heart clenches. A week ago, I was worried about not having access to the morning after pill. Now? I’d love nothing more than to see her belly swollen with my child.
I shake my head to scatter the thought, clearing my throat as I reach for my shirt. Rowan does the same, getting dressed in silence. She glances at me a few times, as if trying to gauge what I’m thinking.
“I should probably let you get to work,” I say, buttoning the last ivory button on my chest.
Rowan straightens up, dipping her chin down. “Right. Yes. Of course.”
When she meets my gaze, there are walls up between us. Walls which, by all rights, should be there. They’ll always be there—because, after all, she’s from Farcliff, and she’s in Nord for work. I’m a prince, and I knew the moment Abby died that I was destined to be alone.
Isn’t that the truth?
All those other thoughts—about life and happiness and beauty—they were just lust talking.
“Let me know if you need anything,” I say and walk to the door. When my fingers are on the handle, though, I stop.
Why does it have to be this way? Why do I have to turn my back on her? Why not walk into the light and appreciate Rowan’s presence for what it is: a gift. Happiness, bottled up and presented to me in the form of a beautiful, copper-haired goddess.
In three strides, I’m back beside Rowan again. I wrap my arms around her and crush my lips to hers, kissing her with all the strength of my emotion.
I want this. Her. Us.
When I pull away, we’re both flushed and panting.
I grin. “I couldn’t leave without doing that one last time.”
“Not the last, I hope,” Rowan says. Her smile widens, and there’s no distance between us at all. No walls.
“Definitely not,” I say, pressing my lips to hers, as if I want to convince myself that it’s true. I’ll get to kiss her again, and again, and again.
She lets out a happy sigh, casting a tangled web around my heart that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to escape.
