Chapter 22

Twenty-Two

Harlowe

Iwalked alongside the production assistant as he congratulated me on finishing the day’s shoot. The sun was starting to fade, and even over the tops of the trailers, the golden glow made me smile. The location shoot was almost over, which meant I’d gotten through the experience without any negative publicity or social media scandal. I’d also managed to avoid any deranged fans and even forgot they existed for a while, which was more thanks to Roc than anything else. He’d managed all threats, and I’d been too busy to check social media. Still, it felt like closing in on the finish line of my own personal marathon.

“You’re the one who deserves congratulations.” I gave him a knowing look. “Tad was on his marks today.”

“My secret?” The PA nudged me and laughed. “Lots of black coffee and prayer.”

“For you or him?”

He nudged me again and laughed harder. “Good one.” When we reached my trailer, he gave me a wave with his clipboard and peeled off, leaving me walking with Roc a step behind me.

We didn’t speak as we passed crew leaving for the day. It wasn’t until we’d reached my trailer and I’d walked up the attached steps and inside, that I spun around to face him. “We did it!”

The door clicked as Roc engaged the lock. “Did what?”

Some of my excitement deflated but not enough to stop me. “No one on set thinks anything happened between us. They don’t have a clue. Not even Grant picked up on it, and he walked in on us in a honeymoon suite.”

“I think he noticed the carpet lint on my clothes.”

The reminder that Roc had slept on the shabby floor of the motel made me frown for a beat. “I guess that part wasn’t a lie.”

“None of it was a lie.” He tilted his head at me. “Nothing happened.”

Even though I was eager to sell that story, hearing Roc say it stung. “Not nothing.”

“True, you did kiss me.”

I huffed out a sound of protest and put my hands on my hips. I might have been the one to make the first move, but I hadn’t been the one to take it further. “So, it was all me?”

His dark eyes held mine. “I didn’t say that.”

I tapped one toe on the floor in rapid-fire. “I wasn’t the only one who escalated things.”

“Escalated?” One of his dark brows quirked. “Are we recounting a battle?”

“Maybe we are,” I snapped, startled by the heat of my own words. Why was I suddenly so angry at Roc? Hadn’t I been the one who’d wanted to downplay things and keep it between us? So why did it annoy me that he was downplaying what had happened between us?

“If it was a battle, then which of us won?” His voice was a low burr that rumbled into my bones.

I scrunched my lips to the side and eyed him. “You retreated.”

He emitted a growl that sent a tremor dancing down my spine. “I did not retreat. I chose not to take what couldn’t be freely given.”

This again. I scowled at him. “Being tipsy does not mean I don’t know what I’m doing.” I stepped closer and jabbed a finger toward his chest. “I knew exactly what I was doing.”

He didn’t reply, but his eyes were pools of black as he watched me, the dark pupils swallowing all traces of color. With a tickle of unease, I wondered if I was glimpsing his primitive orc side, the side he worked so hard to hide in his expensive clothes and subdued demeanor.

I brushed away any latent nerves. I didn’t care if I was provoking the monster he kept buried. I didn’t care if I was releasing his primal orc side. I only cared about feeling what I had when he’d pinned my hands over my head.

I closed the remaining distance between us until our bodies were almost touching. Peering up at him, I pressed one hand lightly to his chest and felt the hard pulse of his heart through my fingertips. “I’m sober now.”

Roc’s jaw was so tight a muscle ticked within, and a vein throbbed. “Do you remember what I told you that night?”

My pulse quickened as I swallowed and attempted to speak in a normal voice. Instead, my words were little more than a breathy whisper. “You told me that I will belong to you.”

He hadn’t moved his arms as he loomed over me. “When will you belong to me, Harlowe?”

My breaths were so shallow that I felt dizzy staring up at him, but I also couldn’t tear my gaze from him. He was going to make me say it. Make me be the one to escalate.

I hesitated, before realizing I didn’t want to retreat. I didn’t want to run from this or from him. “When you fuck me.”

He nodded so softly the movement barely registered. “That was your first warning. This is your second.”

Then his mouth was on me with such ferocity that I didn’t take a breath or open my eyes until he’d backed me to the table and was lifting me onto it. The only coherent thought in my mind was that I desperately wanted his third warning.