TWENTY-NINE ARABELLA

TWENTY-NINE

Arabella

MY NAKED BUTT is perched on the marble ledge of the gorgeous guest bathroom that resides in the east wing of the Lancaster household, my legs spread wide and Rowan’s face buried between my thighs. His tongue laps at my clit, circling it. Sucking it between his lips. I’ve got one hand on the wall next to me and the other in Row’s silky hair, holding him close, on the verge of coming.

Feels like I’m always on the verge of coming when I’m with him.

He’s kneeling on the floor, his big hands pressed against the inside of my thighs, keeping me in place. My pants are discarded on the floor, a crumpled heap on top of my shoes and my glasses resting on top of them. My sweater is shoved halfway up my chest, my breasts exposed. I didn’t wear underwear tonight. I’ve sort of given up on underwear this week because I prefer easy access, and Rowan always acts surprised when he finds out I’m not wearing a bra or panties.

I love giving this man surprises.

“Please don’t stop,” I gasp when he pauses and I glance down at him to find he’s watching me. “What are you doing?”

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he declares, making my entire body flush with pleasure at his compliment. I can never get enough of them and he doesn’t offer them up freely, so when he does say something like this, I know he means it. “Look at you.”

“I can’t,” I croak, feeling silly. “The mirror is behind me.”

He presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss on the inside of my thigh, tickling me. “I should take a picture.”

“Absolutely freaking not.” He chuckles and I tug on the ends of his hair, making him growl. “I mean it, Row. No photos. What if …”

Oh God, what if his mother found them? Or his dad ? I would die.

D-I-E.

“Fine, no photos. Just watch me and burn this memory into your brain so it’s there forever.” He presses his face between my legs again, inhaling deeply. My stomach clenches when I feel his tongue slide over my clit. Search my folds. Tease my entry. My inner walls flex on nothing and I whimper, moaning when he slips a finger inside me. Then another. Fucking me steadily while he sucks my clit, driving me out of my mind.

We know how to make each other come fast and God, I love it. We’ve only been at it for approximately two minutes and I’m close. I love how he makes me feel filthy. Dirty—in the absolute best way. It seems he’s just as into me as I am into him and triumph slips through me, knowing that I’ve finally got Rowan Lancaster where I’ve always wanted him.

He’s mine. I know it.

My clit pulses rapidly in warning. I grab the back of his head and smash his face into my pussy, arching against him, rubbing shamelessly on his mouth and chin. I’m grinding, tipping my head down so I can watch, and when our gazes connect, I’m done for.

I fall completely apart, moaning low in my throat, trying my best to contain the noise I want to make. His eyes fall shut as he concentrates on my pussy, my poor overworked clit, and within seconds I’m pushing him away, unable to take it anymore.

Rowan leans back on his haunches while I try to control my breathing, my racing heart. He wipes at one corner of his mouth, then the other, sucking his thumb between his lips before he removes it and presses it upon my still throbbing clit.

“Oh. Shit.” I bite the words out, banging my head against the mirror behind me when he slowly thrusts two fingers back inside my pussy, moving them in and out, bringing me to another orgasm that’s somehow even more intense than the previous one. I nearly fall off the bathroom counter, and he grabs my knee, keeping me in place.

I’m shaking my head over and over, babbling like an idiot. “You have to stop, Row. I don’t know if I can take it anymore.”

He removes his fingers from inside my body and presses a gentle kiss on the inside of one damp thigh, then the other, before he rises to his feet. Bracing his hands on the counter, caging me in, he kisses me on the mouth, the salty taste of my pussy still lingering on his lips, and I kiss him back with as much enthusiasm as I can manage.

But I am spent. And it’s all his fault.

“My poor sweet, Bells,” he murmurs against my lips, and I swear, my heart stops, only to start back up again, beating triple time because of what he said.

I’m overwhelmed all over again, but not from the orgasms. No, it’s emotion filling me up and threatening to pour out all over Rowan. He’s not one to show how he’s feeling, but in this moment, I feel cared for. Maybe even …

Loved?

No, I’m rushing things. Rushing, rushing, that’s always my mode and I need to stop and savor what I’ve got. Rowan wrapped all around me with his mouth still on mine and our heated breaths mingling.

“We should go back out there,” he finally says, and I nod, fighting my disappointment. Can’t we stay in this bathroom forever?

He pulls away from me and grabs my sweater, straightening it out. He tugs it over my breasts until it’s covering me to my waist, and I smile when he brushes the front of it while murmuring, “So soft.”

When he catches me watching him with what I can only assume is a goofy look on my face, he tells me, “Not as soft as your skin though.”

I am melting. Turning into pure liquid he’ll have to gather up in a glass. I don’t know how I’ll ever put myself back together after this week. Everything has changed while we’ve been here but is it back to reality when we return to campus? Will I be his sweet Bells then? Or is it back to that girl who annoys him in class?

Snapping out of my dreamy state, I hurriedly finish getting dressed and smooth my hand over my hair while staring at my reflection in the mirror. My lipstick is a moot point, rubbed away within seconds of us slipping into this bathroom, thanks to Rowan kissing it all off. He digs around in the cabinet and finds a bottle of Listerine, both of us swishing it around in our mouths and spitting it into the sink while he turns the water on and rinses it away.

“Do I look presentable?” I turn to him after I wipe my face on the plush hand towel, slipping my glasses back on.

“Beautiful.” He brushes strands of hair behind my ear, his gaze glowing with sincerity. “I miss the lipstick though.”

“I left it upstairs in my room.” I stand straighter. “Should I go get it?”

“If you want to.” Rowan leans in and presses a soft kiss to my lips. “But hurry back. I think dinner is going to be served soon.”

I exit the bathroom first, looking this way and that to make sure the coast is clear before I head for the staircase. I’m in my room seconds later, grabbing my phone to see if I have any notifications when it lights up in my hand as if sensing I was holding it.

It’s my mother. I’ve avoided her long enough, and I have the perfect excuse to cut the call short—dinner is about to start.

“Mom, hi!” I greet her with all the enthusiasm I can muster as I grab the lipstick that I put on earlier and go into the connected bathroom.

“Darling! There you are! Happy Thanksgiving! And Happy Birthday!”

My heart soars at her remembering, but only a little bit. I had to remind her, after all. “Thank you. What time is it there?”

“Two in the morning. Your father and I just got back from our little trip with friends.” She laughs. “We had the best time!”

“That’s nice.” I’m distracted, my head full of thoughts of Rowan and how much he likes the lipstick. I hit the speaker button on my phone screen and set the phone on the bathroom counter, uncapping the lipstick and carefully slicking it across my lips.

“Have you given the apprenticeship any more consideration? I need to give them an answer soon.”

Nerves jangle in my stomach and make my hand shake. I set the lipstick on the counter and grab a tissue, wiping at the corner of my mouth. “How soon do they need an answer?”

“Yesterday,” she says without hesitation.

“Perfect, considering it’s still yesterday where I’m at.” A nervous titter escapes me but she doesn’t laugh in return.

“I’m serious, Arabella. We need to tell them right away. If you’re not interested, there are plenty of other people who understand just how important this opportunity is and will gladly step in and fill the spot.”

“Oh.” I take a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm the full-blown panic that sweeps over me at her words. I grab my heart-shaped locket, rubbing my thumb over it like I do sometimes when I’m nervous. “Um …”

“If you’re going to say no, please reconsider. This is the opportunity of a lifetime and I just know that you’ll enjoy yourself once you’re there. Isn’t this what you’ve always dreamed of? Since you were a little girl? I remember you sitting at the dining room table with your jewelry kits strewn everywhere, concentrating so hard your tongue was sticking out while you lined up the different colored beads just so.”

I blink at my reflection, startled she remembered. I always thought she gave me those kits so I’d leave her alone and she wouldn’t have to deal with me. I was such an arts and crafts kid when I was younger, and Mother acted like that sort of thing was beneath her. And my father? He was never around so I don’t recall him having any sort of reaction toward me beyond confusion.

“And all your sketchbooks you’d leave everywhere around the house when you were what? Eleven? Twelve? Full of designs, Arabella. Beautiful ones. You’ve got a special talent.” Her voice lowers, and I swear it’s even a little trembly. “Don’t waste it, darling. Do something with it. My biggest regret is I didn’t do anything with my talents when I was your age.”

I’m stunned silent. My mother had secret hopes and dreams that had nothing to do with being married to a wealthy banker? I had no idea. “What was your talent?” I ask in a raspy voice.

“I enjoyed dabbling in a little writing here and there. Fantasy stories. They felt like fairy tales to me and I adored the world building. I might’ve even started writing a few, but I never finished a single one.” Her words take on a rushed quality. “But that was before your father and he needs me. I don’t have time to write fanciful stories that will probably go nowhere. I have other duties to perform.”

I swallow hard, my vision blurring. Why am I crying? Because my mother gave up her dream for my father? A woman shouldn’t have to give up anything for the love of her life. After all, we don’t ask men to do that, so why should women?

Clearing my throat, I declare, “I’ll do it. I’ll take the apprenticeship.”

She’s silent for only a beat. “Darling, this is the best news! I’ll let them know right away. They’ll want you to come straight to Paris at the beginning of January, and I thought it might be nice to spend Christmas there? The three of us together? I know I mentioned it before, but we could stay at The Ritz. What do you think? We’ll be right across the street from the atelier and we could all visit it together. Go on a little tour. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

“Yes.” I sniff. “Amazing.” I’m full-blown crying now. Not at the idea of taking the internship, but at the thought of leaving Rowan behind. Of not spending Christmas with him and his family. Being stuck in a glamorous hotel that isn’t home and won’t have a Christmas tree in the room, my parents most likely too busy to actually want to spend time with me.

I understand them—her—far better than she realizes. Yes, she’s happy for me. This is the most thoughtful and nurturing I’ve seen her act toward me since I can remember. But she has her own motives too. Christmas in Paris sounds like a fantasy, something my mother literally just admitted that she likes. She might’ve gotten this opportunity for me, but it benefits her too.

Everything always does.