Chapter 22

Twenty-Two

Rowan

This isn't something I share with anyone. Other than Ruby and Jagger, no one else knows. Not even Tweetie or Henry. I like to keep this part of my life private because I don't like answering a lot of questions about it. The only reason I ever told Jagger was because he was adamant I tell him about anything that might come out in the press that could be perceived negatively. That if he was caught by surprise, he'd cut me off, and I wasn't going to risk not having the best sports agent in the business.

She places the bottle on the bar while I rise from the stool, rounding the bar to the other side—her side.

"Let me show you how to make my drink."

"Okay." Her voice is shaky.

I'm still not positive that giving her this information about me is the right call, but for some reason, I trust her enough to do so. I think she'll keep this secret, and I hope my judgment isn't wrong.

I fill the glass with ice by using the scoop and grab the soda nozzle. I pick up her hand and place it over the button, pressing the button for the club soda to fill my glass close to the rim. Grabbing a lime from the fridge, I drop it in.

Her hand holds the soda nozzle, and her eyes meet mine. "That's it?"

I pick up the drink and take a sip. "That's it."

Our eyes stay locked, and I can read the questions in her eyes.

"You weren't drunk that first night we met?"

I chuckle and shake my head. "Nope."

"Oh."

"Were you?" I didn't think she was. I knew she had a few glasses of wine but not so much that she was hammered.

"No. But I guess I figured…"

I place my cup on the bar top and broach the distance between us, stepping into her and caging her back to the bar with my hands on either side of her body. "Figured what?"

"That you were, you know…tipsy, I guess."

"Tipsy?"

"Okay, and horny."

I step closer to her, letting her feel how hard I am. "I am horny."

"Rowan." Her hands splay on my chest. "You were going to tell me something."

I could say the same thing to her. We're both keeping secrets from one another. And maybe I should say a secret for a secret, but I don't want to force her to tell me. I want her to trust me like I do her in this moment.

I bring one hand up, swiping her hair away from her forehead and tucking a chunk of it behind her ear. "My dad drank…a lot…and he wasn't a happy drunk."

She grabs my shirt in her fists but doesn't say anything.

"I did drink in college and some of the early years in the league, but I stopped a long time ago. Not because I had a problem, although had I let it go any longer, I probably would have. But I didn't like who I was. I didn't like waking up in the morning and not remembering what I did the night before. It made me feel out of control and a lot like my father, so I stopped drinking alcohol all together. The longer I went without it, the happier I was."

"Why hide it?" she asks, and I step back, leaning against the back of the bar.

"I don't want all the questions that go along with a decision like this. It's not people's business." I cross my arms, the defensiveness I've always felt showing. I force myself to loosen them to my sides. She can ask me whatever she wants now that I've told her my secret. "So far, I've been lucky that no one has noticed, and I'd like to keep it that way. I don't want people to dig into my past. They'll find all the police reports of domestic abuse. They'll find my father's death certificate stating he died of liver failure due to chronic alcoholism. They'll find a lot of shit about my life that I don't want random people to know."

Her eyes fill with pity. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"Yeah, that's the other thing I fucking don't want." I turn to leave the area behind the bar, but she wraps her arms around me, practically climbing on my back.

"Wait. Stop. I'm just so sorry that you've had to go through that. Especially as a young kid. Life isn't fair."

I cover her hands with mine because unlike the few other times I've discussed this with someone, I don't want to run away. Isn't that the problem with her? I always want to be with her. This infatuation stage of our relationship isn't losing momentum, quite the opposite, and it makes me feel out of control in my life. A feeling I don't do well with.

"Please don't ever tell anyone," I say in a soft voice as if there are people around.

"Never. I would never." When I circle around, she rises on her tiptoes, grabbing my face and staring in my eyes. "I won't ever tell anyone. I promise."

"Thanks."

She places her mouth on mine, and I lick the seam of her lips. We don't rush our kiss, our hands running over the layers of our clothes as if we're naked. God, she's ruining me, and I'm just letting her do it, but the last thing I want to do is walk away from this.

I really hope Ruby doesn't have cameras.

Per usual, slow only lasts so long before the tension rises to a point that we're desperate to come together. Backing her up to the bar, I continue to kiss her, my hands manipulating the buttons on her blouse until I spread it open to reveal her bra-covered tits.

"I want to fuck these so bad," I say, taking the weight of them in my palms.

"Do it." She's practically panting already.

"Not now. I need to be inside you."

Her fingers run up and under the hem of my sweatshirt, slowly torturing me until her warm palms run along my back. "I love to feel your skin under my hands."

It's something I've noticed. Every time we're together, her hands find their way up along my chest or back. I don't mind one bit.

She rests her chin on my chest and stares up at me with those big caramel eyes of hers. The look on her face makes me think she might be ready to tell me whatever it is she's been holding back. But instead, she pushes up my sweatshirt and places kisses over my heart and around my chest.

Jesus, I think now she feels sorry for me.

Fuck. I just want to forget that I shared my most vulnerable admission with her.

I lower my body, swiping an arm around her middle and hoisting her up, taking her to the private room to fuck her on the table. Every time I'm in here with the guys from now on, this is what I'll be picturing.

I push through the door and drop her on the table.

"Condom?" she asks.

I dig into my pocket and hold up the one I had with me when I went down to meet her because I planned on taking her as soon as she entered my condo.

She pushes at my chest, and I stumble backward. Leaning back on her hands, her eyes peruse my body from head to toe and back up. "I want to see you strip."

I chuckle and hold the hem of my sweatshirt, lifting it up my chest. "Don't jump me."

She giggles, twirling her finger. "Keep going."

I strip my sweatshirt off, but don't continue. "How about I take an item off and then you take an item off?"

Without a word, she slides her arms out of the blouse, hanging it off her finger and letting it drop to the floor. "Your turn."

I shake my head. I don't have a lot of clothes left. I toe out of my slides.

"Shoes don't count."

"Well then." I pull down my sweatpants and step out of them, leaving me in?—

"Well, well, seems you're sharing more than one secret tonight." She giggles, staring at my crotch.

I look down and holy fuck, how did I forget?

"I mean, I get the Captain America thing, but did you steal Bodhi's underwear by accident?"

My Captain America boxer briefs dampen the sexy vibe of our back-and-forth stripping game, but I'm not going to tell her how embarrassed I feel. Instead, I hook my fingers into either side and yank them down my legs, leaving me completely naked.

"Oh, I kind of liked it. We could make it a whole role plaything." She jumps off the table, shedding her pants. She's just about to do the same with her sheer baby blue underwear, but I raise my hand.

"Keep them on."

Her gaze floats up and down my body, landing on my dick that's pointing north and growing harder by the minute. "A bossy Captain America. I like it."

"Get up on the table."

She does as I say, and I walk toward her, fisting my cock. She watches me running my hand up and down my length. "You trying to make me forget about the whole Captain America thing?"

"Is it working?"

"Kind of."

I use my free hand and push her legs apart, my palm sliding up her inner thigh. She opens her legs wider, and I step in between them, releasing my cock to grab her ass and tug her to the edge. Then I take my dick in hand again, slide the thin fabric over, and run my tip up and down her slick center.

"Shit," she says, watching me.

Keeping one hand on her lower back and one hand on my dick, I purposely run it along her clit and back to her entrance, all while watching where I'm going to disappear in minutes.

She picks up the condom from next to her, opens it, and holds it out. I hold my dick at the base, and she rolls it over my length. Then she kills me as she slouches slightly, her ass hanging off the table, and guides my dick into her opening.

I slide inside, inch by inch, staring at her taking me in, at us connecting as one.

"Rowan," she moans.

I look up to see something in her eyes. Something I don't want to see. As playful as I tried to make this moment, it's still something more than our usual encounters.

I'm not sure if it's the fact that I told her something about myself no one knows, or if the feelings I've felt rushing over me these past few weeks are refusing to stay quiet any longer. My hand cradles the nape of her neck, and I inch forward, kissing her as I get as deep as I can. From there, things ramp up.

Our mouths are ravenous, unable to get enough of one another. Her legs wrap around me, squeezing my hips, and I continue to kiss her like the starved man I am for her. I want everything she's willing to give me.

The only sound in the empty bar is the wet slapping sound of me pounding into her and the strangled moans escaping our mouths.

She clings to me, her fingertips digging into my biceps. I really need her to come soon before I embarrass myself. I bring my hand to her clit and massage it in the rhythm I know she loves.

Her lips strip off mine, and her head rocks back, her back arching. "I'm coming."

Thank God because once her pussy walls clench around my dick, it strips me of the last of my willpower. I spill into the condom on a curse, holding myself inside her while her back falls to the table, catching her breath.

I'll never get used to how stunning she looks after she comes.

I take a moment while her eyes are closed and she doesn't know I'm looking at her to admire her beauty and the fact that she's kind of mine. I mean, I don't think she's seeing anyone else. Or fucking anyone else. I hope not. We never talked specifically about being exclusive. Shit, do I even ask?

I withdraw from her body, jealousy thick in my veins at the idea of her with anyone but me. I go to the bathroom and dispose of the condom, returning to find her still lying on the table, her hands on her stomach.

"You good?" I ask.

She nods and sits up. "Great."

But her words don't match the euphoric bliss I assumed she'd be in after the amazing sex we just had.

"You sure?" I pick up her clothes and place them on the table. I want to get her to my condo and lay her in my bed for the night, which I know is the wrong thing to want at this moment.

She smiles. "Yeah. It's just…"

I can't bear for her to tell me this is turning into something more, and she wants to bail, so I don't allow her to tell me. Instead, I pick up her clothes and hand them to her. "Let's go up to my place. I'm starving."

Using my stomach as an excuse, my delay works, and she doesn't tell me she wants to end this because she feels this is heading in the opposite direction than agreed on. That we're becoming more than fuck buddies.

"Don't forget your Captain America boxers."

"You think you're funny, do you?" I lift her and haul her over my shoulder. "I can do this all day."

"Did you just use one of his lines?" She laughs.

"Maybe. If I'd known you were a Captain America fan, I would've worn the boxers earlier."

I spank her ass with my hand, and she yelps, hitting my ass like a drum with both of her hands. A strange sensation lights up in my stomach, but I push the feeling away. There's no way it's what I think it is.