Out of the Mountain (42 page)

“How did you survive there so long?”

“My temper and sprit made me the favorite plaything of the queen. Evil as she might be, she taught me a lot, all of it for her own personal gain, of course. I remember everything she ever told me, including some of their best-kept secrets.”

“How did you escape?”

“That’s a story for another time.” I felt his apprehension and worry.

“Nothing you could tell me will change how I feel about you.”

“It’s a sad story, and I do not wish to delve into it quite yet.” I felt the truth of his words and decided to let it drop for now. I didn’t like the tinge of sadness that surrounded him.

I lapsed into silence as I watched Rowan draw me, eyes lingering here and there before returning to the sketch, face furrowed in concentration. His hand finally stilled, and he looked from the sketch to me a few times before his eyes held mine.

“Can I see?” I asked, and he hesitantly turned the sketch pad toward me. The detail was immaculate, shaded to perfection. Water glistened off my back, flyaway hairs sticking up around my head. The swell of the side of my breast was just visible above the water and beneath the arm that was wrapped around my knees. A concerned look that I was sure I had worn while he spoke of his childhood was on my face.

“That’s amazing,” I said, feeling an odd sense of pride. I looked at the picture and couldn’t help feeling beautiful, even with my imperfections. He flipped the page back to show me the other drawing I hadn’t allowed him to finish. Toes pressed against the edge of the tub, shins and knees visible just under the surface of water. Left arm resting on the back of the tub, the beginning of my right lifted to my hair. I let out a long sigh before settling back into position. I wanted to see the finished product.

A genuine smile lit his face, and it encouraged me to lift my right arm to my hair again. The angle exposed my breast almost completely. Although I felt vulnerable, I also felt empowered as his gaze traveled along my body before he began drawing again quickly.

“Beautiful.” He said it so simply, like stating a fact. A smile lit up my face, and he looked intently and quickly at me before returning to his passionate drawing. I fell into watching him again, and every time our eyes met he shared a gentle smile with me that sped up my heartbeat.

I would have never imagined I would be here, with him, like this, feeling so comfortable . . . so at ease while being quite literally on display. It was Rowan, though, and while he could light a fire within me that burned hot enough to scorch, he could also just as easily quell the flames. I felt safe with him. When his fingers stopped, he laid the sketchpad on the counter and hopped down to the floor, crossing to sit on the edge of the tub. I dropped my arm and sat impatiently.

“Well? Don’t I get to see it?”

“Not quite yet,” he replied, reaching below my feet into the tub to let the water drain. I shivered when his fingers brushed my leg under the water and our eyes met and held. My breathing quickened, and he stood holding a robe this time, inviting me to stand. His face was an unreadable mask, but his eyes told another story as they shone brightly. Feeling emboldened, I stood and shivered as chills spread across my skin, both from the loss of the heat and the way his eyes roamed me slowly.

I stepped out of the tub, and he slipped the robe around my shoulders, eyes firmly on mine now and only a breath away. When I moved to tie the robe and ward off the chill, his hand stopped me, sliding beneath the side of the robe with a feather-light touch and sending chills anew.

I slipped my hands under his shirt to feel the warm skin beneath and felt the shudder that went through him at the contact. Our eyes met, the heat in his reflecting what I was feeling perfectly. Within the blink of an eye, he lifted me into the air, cradling me in his arms. I allowed myself to marvel at his beautiful face up close, and again noticed the thin line of a scar under the scruff of his beard. The same side as the others, it must have been from the fall as a child. I touched my hand to it as I realized he was carrying me to the bed. My heart was thundering in my chest. I was sure he could hear it.

He sat me on the edge gently before kneeling in front of me. This put him at a slightly lower angle, which I quickly took advantage of by pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. I leaned into him, pressing my lips to his as I pulled him flush against me. Every single point of contact of our bare skin was like a shock to my system. It was too much and not enough.

I slipped the robe from my shoulders and let it pool around my waist. His tongue met mine and when his hands found my breasts, I moaned into his mouth with pleasure. He teased and touched until I was so wound up, I thought I might explode, and when his mouth began trailing down my neck, taking over what his hands had been doing, I practically trembled with wanting.

I began to feel his emotions intensify into what could only be described as raw, torturous need, and I started to get nervous. He had done this all before and clearly knew what he was doing . . . but I had never been in any situation even remotely close to this, and though I wanted him, badly . . . I just wasn’t sure if I was quite ready. He was, though; why wouldn’t he be? I needed to stop thinking about it so much, just let it happen . . .

“Forgive me, Vinnie. I should not have let myself get so swept up . . .” he apologized, pushing the robe back up onto my shoulders and drawing it closed. I could already feel his regret seeping in.

“No, wait a second,” I begged, grabbing his shoulders to stop him from moving away. I didn’t want him to pull back from me! This side of him . . . the vulnerable, raw, passionate man and the gentle reverence he had been treating me with was intoxicating. I could do this; I could.

“You cannot lie to me anymore than you can lie to yourself. I can feel your anxieties and fear as clearly as if they were my own.”

“I was enjoying myself rather thoroughly,” I defended.

“Yes, and then you were not.” He frowned.

“I was! It’s just that . . . I worry I will do something wrong and embarrass myself. I have never been . . . like this before. I don’t want to disappoint you,” I admitted, mortified.

“You could not disappoint me if you tried, and most definitely not in this situation.” He chuckled.

“OK then, let’s do it.” I tried to sound sure, but my hands faltered as I reached for the button of his pants. He pulled away from me, glaring.

“OK, so maybe I’m not quite ready for all of that yet, but I don’t want this to end.” I confessed, and his mouth quirked up into a mischievous grin. His hands slid beneath my robe and onto my thighs, testing my emotions. Satisfied with my reaction to him now that sex was off the table for tonight, I was anxious in the best way.

“Do not worry yourself so much, Vinnie. I am more than content with pleasuring you,” he assured me as his eyes glowed again. I felt his want, his need to take care of me, and my body responded with tense anticipation.

His mouth slid over mine slowly and sensually as he lifted me, easily discarding the robe and moving me into the center of the bed. The reverence with witch he was treating my body made me feel at ease as he began exploring every inch of my bare skin. He placed a kiss on the arch of my foot, which was the beginning of a trail up my leg and to the marks on my outer thigh. The slow and steady pace had my toes curling. He kissed each of my marks as I gripped the sheet under both of my hands tightly.

When his lips ventured bellow my belly button, I tensed. “Wait,” I said, embarrassed and intrigued all at once. I was aching . . . but would he even want to go there? What would that be like? He rolled his eyes at me and hitched one of my legs around his neck, turning to kiss my inner thigh while his eyes held mine. I shuddered beneath him.

“Now this, I can tell you are curious about. You want this, but are unsure if I do?” He chuckled darkly, eyes alight, and I blushed, nodding in agreement with his assessment of my mixed feelings.

“I assure you, I will enjoy myself just as much as you will, Vinnie.” He purred, and I felt the truth of it send a flash of heat through me.

“OK, return to what you were doing then,” I joked, but my laugh was cut off by a sharp intake of breath when he did just that. His mouth slowly made its way between my thighs, and I tensed for only a second before relaxing into his mouth’s caress. I panted in pure pleasure as I felt the tension building to a point of no return, a dam finally about to burst.

His rhythm quickened, and I felt pressure building firm and low. Every muscle in my body was tensed, and when his hands found the peaks of my breasts a moan escaped, the guttural sound of it vibrating inside me. That was all it took to send me over the edge, pleasure pulsating through me with a force that racked me to the bone.

“Rowan.” I breathed his name as I tangled my hands in his hair with the release.

A low groan escaped his throat, changing his rhythm and causing an entirely new sensation that left me clinging tightly to him, back arching and unsure if I wanted to beg for him to stop or threaten him not to. I shuddered beneath him until my body relaxed into a puddle, and he led a trail of languid kisses to my mouth. He kissed me gently before shifting his position and pulling my head onto his chest. I savored the feel of the racing beat of his heart beneath my ear.

“I love you.” His voice rumbled in his chest, and I smiled up at him lazily as he began slowly running his hand up and down my back. His emotions were swarming me . . . admiration, pride, possessiveness, love, lust, contentment . . . it was hard to sift through.

“I love you too,” I said, focusing on feeling content and relaxed, because that’s exactly what my body was.

“Thank you.” He sighed, and I sat up to look at him.

“For what?”

“For putting your trust in me and loving me, despite everything.”

“You do make it hard,” I joked, and he slapped me playfully on the butt.

“Hey!” I squealed, and he grabbed a handful.

“That is nice.”

“I never figured you for a butt man,” I joked, and he grinned.

“I can appreciate each and every part of your body equally,” he said as his other hand trailed up my side.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

“For what?”

“Finally giving into your intense need for me and ravishing me fully, awakening me to desires I hadn’t known possible?” I said dramatically as I threw a hand over my forehead as if swooning. He chuckled before planting a kiss on my head.

“Go to sleep, Vinnie.”

“Yes, sir.” I sighed, laying my head back on his chest and falling asleep quickly, relaxed and happy, listening to the sound of his steady heartbeat.

***

I awoke feeling absolutely rested and stretched lazily until I remembered the events of the night before and a blushed to my toes as I covered my face in my pillow in disbelief.

“Good morning, beautiful.” I peeked over my pillow to see a shirtless, sleepy-headed Rowan, and my body immediately reacted to the sight. Memories of last night swirled through me as I buried my head in my pillow once more.

“My body doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone,” I grumbled. I heard a chuckle. I peeked at him again and tried not to drool. This was the most beautiful I had ever seen him, completely relaxed, happy and content waking up next to me. The soft glow of morning light was wafting into the windows, casting shadows along the line of his body. He pulled me half on top of him, and I tried to focus on his playful expression and not the way to touch of our bare skin was making me feel electrified. I buried my face in his chest, finding that I was unable to hold eye contact with him without feeling embarrassed at the events of the night before. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced . . . raw and passionate bliss. I had lost complete control of myself under his skilled mouth, and although I hadn’t had a care in the world at the moment . . . I remembered the noises of sheer pleasure he had pulled from me, almost animalistic at the end, and was mortified. His hands were sliding up and down my back, and I knew he was feeling what I was thinking.

“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to sort through it . . .” I whispered, and he kissed me on the head.

“You’re feeling a lot of conflicting emotions . . .” he started, and I groaned in frustration. I should be able to feel this without having to explain it. This was beyond embarrassing.

“I was just thinking back over last night . . . I got a little bit . . . carried away,” I said to his chest, and I felt his humor spark. I quickly sat up looking him in the eye, and he tried to hide his grin. “Oh, please tell me you aren’t making fun of me. I knew I would screw this all up at the first chance I got!”

“Vinnie, look at me.” His voice was serious and I peeked out from between my fingers at him. He pulled my hands away from my face and pulled me down onto him again, this time holding my face in his hands.

“Last night was perfect. You are perfect, and everything you did was perfect.” His eyes flashed yellow as a mixture of love and lust shot through him.

“The taste of you, the feel of your body, and the sound of your pleasure . . . it is not something that I will ever forget.” I felt the truth of his words, and my apprehension melted away as he allowed me to feel every emotion that was passing through him. His lips fell on mine, and my heart swelled even as it pounded in my chest. I had to admit to myself that the bond was good for feeling reassured. Without the bond, I would have probably tortured myself over every little thing I had done, wondering if I had made a mistake or embarrassed myself . . . but since there was no way to hide these things from each other, I had been forced through my discomfort and was left only with the truth. My confidence soared, and he smiled under my lips.

His hands had returned to roaming my back, and mine found the thick scar on his side as our kiss deepened. I liked the way the scars felt under my hands, soft and rough at the same time. When I looked at him, the scars seemed to add to his beauty instead of taking away from it, a part of him that told his story. I ran my finger over the one under his jawline and sighed, pulling back to catch my breath.