Chapter Twelve

Rowan

Bex shuts the door, sealing us inside the dimly lit limo and out of the wet Seattle evening. The sound is like a final exhale, shielding us from the chaos of the gala and the torrential rain that’s now pelting the roof. My heart is still racing, my chest tight, and my breath uneven from the rush of emotions that’s been threatening to spill over since Drew's announcement. I can't stop trembling—whether from the chill of the drenched bottom of my dress or the heartbreaking moment that Bex witnessed.

Oh God… Bex witnessed it all.

I want to pull Bex's jacket back over my head and hide. I can't believe I ran away like that, and I can't believe that Bex ran after me.

He sits beside me, silent but watchful. His hands rest on his knees, clenched, as if he’s willing himself to stay calm for my sake. The quiet inside the limo feels starkly different from the usual back-and-forth banter that Bex and I find ourselves in when we're anywhere near each other. The city lights blur outside as the car melds into traffic, and for some unknown reason, I feel like I need to unload what just happened in there with my ex.

“I’m so sorry, Bex,” I blurt out, my voice shaky, barely holding back the tears threatening to spill. “I shouldn’t have run like that. It’s just... Drew, he…”

My voice breaks, and I struggle to find the words. The humiliation of Drew and his fiancée announcing their pregnancy, of seeing their happy faces while my heart felt like it was being ripped apart, rushes back all at once. Didn't Drew consider that the news would shatter me?

Not the news that he's moved on, or that he's engaged, or even that he's expecting a baby. No… the thing that guts me is that he proved tonight that leaving me gave him a brighter future with a wife and kids—all the things he wanted.

What's to say the next man won't do the same?

"Did he do something to hurt you? Should we go back so I can beat the living—"

I cover my hand over his hand to stop him. "No! No. It's nothing like that. I mean, he hurt me, but not like you think." I clamp my eyes shut for a second and then glance back up at him at my side. "I thought I could handle it—I thought I was getting stronger and had come to terms with what I couldn't have. But seeing him so happy with his decision to end us, and then hearing her mention the baby...” The words tumble out. I don't even know if I'm making sense, but Bex listens intently, though he doesn't look happy.

"He's your ex," he says, somehow already knowing.

"Yes, and she's his new fiancée."

He nods.

"If you wanted him back, you probably shouldn’t have come to my defense. It didn’t win you any points," he says. "Is that why you needed to get out of there? He broke your heart."

I meet his eyes, needing him to understand. “I said those things about you because he was wrong. And leaving was… well, it’s hard to explain. It’s not that I want him back.” I pause, swallowing hard. “It’s just that he’s getting the family we wanted. The family I thought I’d have someday, and now all that I’m left with is…”

I trail off, the words hovering between us.

“Me?” Bex raises an eyebrow, a hand pressed to his chest in mock offense. “Ouch, Summers.”

Despite myself, I laugh softly, shaking my head. “Your feelings aren’t hurt,” I say, giving him a sideways glance.

What's wrong with this man?

If I come to him with my tail between my legs, basically humiliating myself at what a horrible ice skater I am, and ask for a truce, he challenges me to a hockey duel. But if I insult him, he grins.

He shrugs. "Fair enough. But why not just find someone else to put a ring on your finger and give you a house full of kids? You’re gorgeous—clever—fiery. Find someone better suited and start the family you want. Drew’s a lazy sod anyway. He’d only hold you back from what you’re really capable of."

My jaw practically hits the limo's floor.

Bex is on a roll with the compliments.

"What?" he asks, watching me as I blink back at him.

"Did you just call me gorgeous and clever?" I ask.

He licks his lips. "And fiery, don't go forgetting that one. I doubt just anyone can meet you at your level."

And there it is.

What I know to be true.

Finding a man who challenges me, interests me, and is willing to take a woman who can't bear her own kids. As if it weren't already hard enough to find a man-unicorn.

"Yeah…" I say, exhaling slowly, turning my head to gaze out the window.

"I meant that as a compliment, you know," he says. "You'll find someone better than that knobhead."

"He's not a knobhead."

He turns to me in his seat.

"Fine, he's a filthy wanker, and he did you a favor because you deserve more."

"I can't have kids," I say, dropping the bomb right there between us. "So he ended it."

He freezes, not a single blink.

Then he turns back to face forward and rolls up the sleeves of his wet dress shirt. It's the first time I've seen the tattoos on Bex's forearms. He's always wearing his Hawkeyes Coaching windbreaker at the stadium or his suit during postgame media. He looks ten times more intimidating with ink peeking past his shirt than he usually does. "Driver, please turn around and head back to the gala. There's a prick back there that I need to beat some manners into."

Drew hurt me but it’s not worth Bex going to jail on assault charges, even if the offer warms my heart a little.

"No!” I yell back to the driver, gripping Bex’s forearm as if he might jump out of the limo and run the rest of the way there if the driver doesn’t turn around. Bex glances down at where my hand grips around his arm and then back up at me. "We're fine. No need to go back. And can we get some privacy, if you don't mind?" I call out to ensure that Bex can't make his request to turn around again.

The driver does as I ask even though Bex is technically the passenger that gets to make the calls. The driver probably just doesn't want to be an accessory to murder by taking Bex back to find Drew, and I don't blame him.

"Summers, what he did was fucked up. Someone needs to tell him so. I’m the perfect bloke for the job,” he says, leveling me with a stern gaze.

"He has a baby on the way. And besides, you told me that I'm better without him, remember?" I say, releasing him.

“Alright, let me get this straight. You ran off when you heard that his fiancée is pregnant, but you’re telling me you don’t want him back.”

I rub my lips together. He’s going to make me tell him, and some part of me wants to—I’m not sure why.

"We tried to have a baby," I say. "After my OBGYN told me that I have less than a one percent chance, we decided to try for a miracle. He was so optimistic. I don't think he even considered that it might not work. He had me believing it too. We even went as far as IVF, but nothing took. After a year of us trying and three years together, Drew told me that he wanted his own kids and that we'd resent each other if he stayed."

I feel Bex's hand reach for mine, intertwining our fingers together. My whole body tingers just from the warmth of his hand in mine. There’s something so reassuring about Bex’s touch.

I work up the courage to look at him. Hoping not to find the sad puppy eyes that I get so often. Just as I hoped, Bex is sturdy, solid, unyielding to silly emotions like pity or empathy… good. Still, there's a softness in his eyes towards me. Something that makes me want to turn into him and be wrapped up against his chest–to be held in the safety of his hold, under his protection like I was tonight, though I didn’t ask for it.

“He was wrong,” he says softly, his thumb grazing over my knuckles. “You’re worth so much more than that.”

I don't know what comes over me but before I can second guess myself, I push up out of my seat and wrap my hands around his neck, his damp hair under my fingers as I press my mouth against his.

Bex doesn’t hesitate. He reaches for me, his strong arms pulling me into his chest. I don’t resist—I can’t. His warmth seeps into me, his solid presence anchoring me as he deepens the kiss, biting at my bottom lip and then soothing it with his tongue. He murmurs soft words against my mouth.

"Beautiful"

"Brilliant"

"Sexy as fuck"

"He's wrong Rowan, so fucking wrong."

Bex’s hands slide under his jacket coat still engulfing me His fingers brush against my bare skin, tender and reassuring, sending a ripple of warmth through me. The heat radiating from his body, the hard, defined muscles beneath his damp clothes, grounding me in the moment

I feel his hands slide down to my hips, and then pull me over his thighs to straddle his lap. My dress stops me from widening my legs, it’s too form-fitting, and with the heavy beading, it has no stretch to it. Bex tries to pull my dress further up my hips but it doesn’t work, it’s too tight. I can see the bulge through his tuxedo pants below me, waiting for me to grind down on and I'm getting as anxious as him.

"Hurry," I tell him, sliding his jacket off my arms and discarding it onto the limo floor behind me.

He tries again but the dress doesn't budge.

Finally, I feel his hands reach around the back of the dress, his fingers curling into the slit at the back and I gasp the second Bex rips the dress from the bottom of the slit all the way to the top zipper, beads pinging and ricocheting off every surface inside the limo.

"Oh my God" I say, my eyes widening.

I can’t believe he just tore my dress off my body.

"You begged, Rowan. Now you know what the sound of you begging does to me."

The notion that I have any effect on him sends a thrill through me.

"That dress was expensive." But my objection is only half hearted.

Seeing him rip my dress in half to get to me has me wetter than I've ever been in my entire life.

"Then send me the bill," he says, offering a devilish grin.

Now, with the dress no longer attached in the back, the thin spaghetti straps slide over my shoulders and down my arms, gaping the dress open for him, and without a bra, my breasts are on full display. He groans at the sight of me, pulling what's left of the dress out of our way and pulls my hips down against his lap.

I let out a moan the minute my soaked panties land on top of his thick bulge, his eyes darken with arousal, as they stare into mine.

"Last chance to change your mind," he warns, his voice strained with desire. "Tell me to stop, Rowan. Because if I don’t stop now, I won’t be able to."

I shake my head, my breath coming in shallow. “Don’t stop. I want this. I want you .”

With a groan, Bex cups my breasts, his fingers brushing against my hardening nipples before his mouth follows. I whimper at the feeling of his mouth on me, my head falling back as he sucks hard on my sensitive nub, flicking it with his tongue, the sensation shooting straight to the ache between my legs.

I moan out loud as he grinds himself against me through our damp clothes. Sparks shoot up my spine, desire warming low in my belly.

I’m aware that we’re still in a moving car, but the world outside no longer exists. There’s only Bex and the way he’s making me feel—wanted–special–protected.

I know this can't last. Sex won't make him trust that I don’t have some secret story I plan to drop. But just for tonight, we can have this.

He reaches down between us, his middle finger running over my drenched silk panties.

"You're torturing me with these," he says, "So wet—so soft—goddamn perfect."

I whimper as he slides my panties over, coating his fingers in my heat.

"More— I need more," I beg, his mouth exploring my breasts.

"I showed you what the sound of you begging does to me. Be careful what you beg for Rowan because I have every intention of delivering on everything you want from me tonight," he says, his voice low.

His fingers grip the top of my waistband and rips my thong, tossing the thin material somewhere in the limo.

"Bex!" I protest, though I've never experienced anything as sexy as Bex ripping my clothes off my body.

"Bill me for that too," he says with a smirk, pulling me down in a rough but passionate kiss.

"I want you inside of me. I need you now."

"Tell me that you’re sure, because you've been through a lot tonight. I just want to make you feel good. That's all I'm after."

Somehow, I know that without him telling me.

I nod. "I'm sure. This is what I want to remember tonight, not the gala. Being with you," I say.

He knows we both need this. The growing tension between us has been leading to this moment. Soon enough, I manage to free him from his belt, tuxedo pants, and boxer briefs. I reach for his erection, loving the feel of his arousal in my hand. It feels hot and heavy as it pulsates for me—this man makes me almost dizzy with need. I stroke him gently at first, loving the way he jerks in response, and then his hips take over, rocking into my hand.

“Bloody hell, Rowan…” he growls, his head falling back against the limo headrest and he watches me through hooded eyelids.

I can’t wait another second. We’ll be at my apartment soon enough and I don’t know what will happen after. Right here–right now–this is all I'm promised.

I position myself over him, the tip of his cock notching at my entrance.

Skin to skin—this is what I need to forget tonight.

He grips my hips, guiding me down onto him in one smooth motion. We both groan at the feeling of him entering me, the fullness of him inside me making my toes curl.

"Fuck, your so damn tight." He stalls for a moment—his eyes fluttering closed—his teeth grinding. The sight of Bexley Townsend trying not to come undone under me causes more wetness to pool at my entrance, coating his cock.

Then he begins to move, rolling his hips in slow motion, finding the spot that I need him and stroking it with expert precision. I meet each of his thrusts with a roll of my own, my nails digging into his shoulders as I ride him. I might be on top, but Bex is the one in control.

Reality breaks through the heated moment when something comes over him; he grips my hips to slow our motion but still keeps our rhythm moving in and out. “Rowan… shit, I'm not wearing a condom.”

A flash of concern washes over his face, but I shake my head, grinding down on him harder, coaxing him to keep going. “I can’t get pregnant, remember? And I'm clean."

I can't believe we got this far without discussing it, but then again, I never expected Bex to feel so safe—so open. I didn't expect him to come find me tonight and to comfort me the way he has. I lost my head with an unexpected desperation to be with him—I guess we both did.

"I'm clean too. But I never usually go without. I want you to know that," he says, his thrusts increasing again as if he couldn’t stop himself from fucking me bare even if he wanted to, hitting the spot inside of me that has my belly on fire—tingles spreading through my body. “Rowan… Christ, I can’t stop fucking you like this. I don’t think I could pull out of you even if I wanted to. You feel so fucking good.”

“Then don’t. Take me just like this,” I tell him. "I'm so close.”

Bex increases his tempo, thrusting into me hard and deep until he bottoms out inside of me. He grips my ass, pulling me unbelievably tight to him. I've never had someone so deep inside of me. Our bodies melding together as we both take what we want from each other—our grunts getting louder and the thick smell of sex filling the back of the limo.

Our mouths find each other once again—but he takes my mouth so differently than he takes my body. It's needy and desperate but smooth and passionate. Our bodies chase after each other's orgasms, but our mouths are taking more time to explore—to tease.

There's so much more to Bex than he lets me see. And now I'm more curious than ever to unlock it.

His hand slides between our bodies and finds my clit, I shatter apart, crying out his name as my orgasm rips through me, my body pulsating over his cock, gripping him so tight that he growls as he comes, spilling into me, emptying every drop as deep as he can.

We stare at each other for a moment, and the reality of what we just did in the back of this limo sets in.

As the car approaches my apartment, Bex wraps me back up in his jacket, and he smooths my hair back from my face, before pulling on his suit pants and button up shirt. He gives a soft smile, but there's also an unspoken understanding that this won't happen again.

We're still at odds, even if he came to my rescue… and then I came to his. We still have to work together, and Bex doesn't trust me. Not to mention that Bex mentioned early tonight that he plans to retire in Liverpool with no wife and no kids.

When push really comes to shove, I think I also held out hope that I'd meet a man who would want to adopt at some point. And Bex doesn't even want a wife, let alone adopt children. And then, of course, there's our age difference. Maybe the eighteen years between us have us both planning for different futures.

There's just too much between us.

Tonight, will just be tonight—nothing more.

I won't even be the least surprised if Bex is still trying to convince Sam not to let me go on any more away games.

“You okay?” he asks softly, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.

I nod, a slow smile curving my lips. “Better than okay. That was… something else entirely.”

Bex grins, but it’s tinged with something bittersweet. He pulls his jacket around me tighter. "I owe you a new dress, but if it's any consolation, I'd say you look better in my jacket anyway."

My belly flips with the thought of him enjoying the sight of me in the coat of his tux.

"Is that right? You like me in your jacket?" I ask, intending to keep the mood light.

"Look… Rowan…" he starts.

Oh God… He'd better not be starting the "it's not you, it's me" speech.

"You don't have to say anything—really. We're fine." I tell him, leaning up off my seat to head for the limo exit but he reaches, gripping around my wrist gently— the concern in his eyes triggering the whole reason I ran away from Drew.

I actually thought he and I might make it out of this situation as two normal adults, with no awkward conversation afterward.

But he continues.

“I’m too old for you. You deserve someone who’s not…” He pauses, searching for the right words. “Not broken down. Someone who can give you the life you deserve. Art. Travel. A family.”

"I can't have kids, remember? You don't know me as well as you think you do," I say pulling my wrist back slowly—he releases me.

I should just let it go—nod and exit, but that's just not how he and I are when we're together.

We both have a point to make, and neither of us like to relent.

I should say, " Thanks for the mind-blowing sex; see you on the opposite side of the sideboards," but I can't make the words come out.

"There are other ways to make a family, and you will someday. Besides, you wouldn't want me," And there he goes. It's back to Summers, no more Rowan. "I’m a bloody wreck half the time. My knees are shot. I’ve had more surgeries than I can count, I’m married to this job, and I wouldn’t make anyone a good boyfriend, let alone a husband. You need someone you can start a life with."

"Sounds like you're putting yourself out to pasture," I say.

"I had the chance to have all of that. The wife, the kids… the family. I chose hockey instead and hurt someone who didn’t deserve it. If given the chance, I'll do the same thing to the next person who gets too close," he says, a look of regret in his eyes. "You deserve better than me or Drew and I hope you find it one day."

I don't know why I care that he's closing a door that I never considered would be open.

My heart clenches, but I nod. “Thank you.”

He opens the door, stepping out first in his slacks and dress shirt with the buttons not perfectly aligned.

He offers me his hand and I grab what's left of my thong before I climb out in only his tux and my matching beaded clutch, with my heels in my hand.

"The beads?" I ask.

Glancing back over my shoulder, it looks like a bead shop blew up in there.

"I'll tell him to charge me for that and I'll give him a big tip to keep quiet. I don't need a news article out there spreading a rumor about how I massacred a dress in the back of a limo, it wouldn't be good for my antisocial grumpy honey badger image."

He's kidding but it's also a reminder that we're still at odds. He thinks my loyalty is to The Seattle Sunrise and not to the Hawkeyes like he is.

"Right. That could be bad for your brand," I say, forcing a grin.

"I don’t know what I should do here. Should I walk you up?" he asks, staring up at the four-story apartment building that I live in.

“Don’t pretend that I’m the first girl you’ve had a one night stand in the back of a limo with,” I say, rolling my eyes.

He stands there, his hands in his pockets and stares down at me for a moment. “I’m not a saint, that’s a fair assumption, but that,” he says tossing a thumb over his shoulder, “Was a first for me. What about for you?”

I try to stop the heat from warming my cheeks at the thought of owning one of Bexley Townsend’s first.

“A lady doesn’t give up all her secrets Coach Bex.”

He sucks in his lower lip and nods. “Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you up?”

"No, that's okay. I've been walking myself home for long enough at this point, and I’m really good at it. Besides, I'm sure Hans will be front and center, ready to read me the riot act for coming home past dark," I say, looking up to Hans' dark window.

The lights are already off in his apartment, which means I may get a pass tonight if I'm really quiet.

"Hans?" he asks, his eyebrows stitching together as if he'd like more information about the man waiting for me to come home.

"He's my grouchy eighty-year-old neighbor," I tell him. "Actually, now that I think about it, I bet you two would get along. Maybe you two can exchange pager numbers."

"How old do you think I am?" he asks, faking insult.

"Too old for me, if I recall."

Then I turn and head up the stairs of my apartment building and down the long walkway.

By the time I input my front door code and push through the unlocked door, I look over my shoulder to find Bex right where I left him, his hands in his pockets, watching me until I enter my apartment building.

As soon as I make it up to my studio apartment, I quickly race to the window and peer down to find Bex in the same place. His eyes turn up to meet mine as if he was waiting to see me safely home. Bex lifts his hand to say goodbye and then turns to climb back into the limo.

The limo pulls off the curb, and with it, my Cinderella night with the anti-prince charming.