plucky talk about holding him off all she could think about was hurtling back to Rosedale. Quiet, secure, private Rosedale. Where they might kiss.
And do more? She didn’t know—literally didn’t know—what to do.
He pulled up unexpectedly beneath the sprawl of a huge olive tree.
Rowan swung a wary glance at him, both relieved by the reprieve and mildly terrified that he had changed his mind about going home.
“It’s starting to rain.” He stepped out of the car and pulled his seat forward. “Didn’t you notice?” he taunted lightly.
She had no choice then but to offer a vague look into the olive grove and murmur, “Oh, look—puppies.”
“You’re not funny.”
“Sure I am.” She left the car and pulled her own seat forward to help him retrieve the removable side windows and canvas top. Her reflexes felt clumsy as she helped him snap and button everything into place, her whole being intimidated by the easy mastery with which he moved.
The patter of rain on the budding branches above them increased as they finished, bouncing through to hit them in fat dollops. They slammed themselves back into the car as the sky opened up. The drumming became a wild rush of sound.
As the windscreen blurred with heavy rain Rowan glanced at him, expecting him to start the car and pull out. In the muted light his blue eyes were charcoal, his body a mass of gathered energy.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I can’t wait.” He leaned across, one hand cupping her cheek as he slanted his mouth in hot possession over hers.
Rowan gasped, parting her lips. Nic took devastating advantage, thrusting past the games and hesitations of their past kisses and slamming them into a new reality of raw seduction. His arm came behind her shoulders, gathering her up and providing a pillow as she yielded. So much had changed between them in the last twenty-four hours Rowan couldn’t do anything but give herself over to the flood of desire.
When his tongue touched hers lust struck with blinding ferocity, lighting a fire of aggression in her that made her kiss him back with equal fervor, lashing at his tongue with her own, fueling the blaze of need expanding around them.
She was dimly aware of a soft growl in his throat, that his fingers moved in a gentle caress of her jaw and throat, but she wouldn’t give up their kiss. Her hands went into his hair, holding him so she could harden the press of their mouths, inhibitions demolished by how instantaneously he inflamed her. She needed this more than air.
With another feral sound he slid his hand to her breast, boldly sliding beneath the scoop neck of her top and invading the snug cup of her bra.
At the first catch of his fingers across her nipple Rowan released a cry into his mouth, startled by the shot of intense pleasure that bolted directly into the heart of her.
Nic pulled away, watching as he exposed her breast. Rowan thought she ought to be embarrassed, but she wasn’t. He wore a reverent look, like her pink nipple was beautiful, thrusting so wantonly. She couldn’t help but feel pride as she basked in his ravenous gaze.
Then he lowered his head and took her into the hot velvet of his mouth. A keening sound left her. The sensation was so intense and sustained. Cradling his head in her forearms, she pressed her legs tightly together, trying to ease the ache throbbing between.
He pulled back a little, just enough to jerk open his shirt. “Touch me.” He brought her hand to his hot chest, then forced his own between her clenched thighs.
Rowan splayed her hands on his hot damp skin, bombarded by too many sensations: the loving stroke of his tongue against her throat, the rasp of silky chest hair on her raw palms and the stunning pleasure that accompanied the firm cup of his hand where she wanted pressure most.
He kissed her again, short-circuiting her brain. Her hips rose into the press of his palm. She tried to feel all of him: the hair-roughened muscles of his chest, the flat quiver of his belly, the silky smoothness of his spine. As her fingertips quested toward the waistband of his jeans he pulled back again.
“Do you have anything?” His voice was deep and sensual, urgent and ragged.
“What—?” She was so new to this it took a second for her to understand. “Protection, you mean? No!”
“You’re not on the Pill?”
“No!”
With a soft curse he fell back in his seat, hands gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. “That’s probably for the best. This car is impossible. What would we do? Lie down in the grass in the rain beside the road? Don’t do that on my account,” he added, with a covetous look to where she was snapping out of her torpor and rearranging her clothing.
Shell-shocked, she could only tuck, adjust and zip her jacket to her throat. “I didn’t mean to let it go that far.” How had it happened? What about her little speech about having found a spine against being pressured?
“I shouldn’t have kissed you. I knew I wouldn’t want to stop.” He checked the mirrors, then fired the engine and pulled into the rain, the wipers slapping at full speed in the tiny windscreen. Reaching out to take her hand, he tangled his thick fingers between hers. The tiny stretch was sensual and erotic. He rested their clasped hands on the stick shift.
“It’s okay. I have some in my room.”
“Some—condoms?” So premeditated. If he’d pulled her to the wet grass a few seconds ago she would have gone without protest, but talking like this allowed reservations to creep in.
“Yes.” The curt way he answered and the purposeful way he drove made it sound like they were on their way to pick up an organ transplant.
But his having condoms in his room made Rowan’s hand go cold inside the vital grip of his. Did that mean he slept with women at Rosedale? All her insecurities flooded to the fore as she contemplated the scope of his sexual conquests. And she was signing up to be next? How demoralizing!
Twisting free of his grip, she swallowed back sick anxiety that grew all the more troubling when she realized he’d released her because he needed to shift down and make the turn into Rosedale. Seconds later they pulled into the garage. The absence of pounding rain made the interior of the car overly silent—especially once he cut the engine.
Feeling suffocated, Rowan threw herself out of the car, then stopped. She wanted to stomp away in a jealous temper because he’d confessed to having other women, but that would be immature. It wasn’t as if she’d believed he was a virgin. Maybe it made her heart ache that he treated Rosedale like a brothel, but given the way its owner had caused him to feel left out in the cold could she really expect him to view the house as sacred and special the way she did?
Moodily shifting to the open garage door, she stared through the wall of water pouring off the eaves and hugged herself.
He’d had casual sex with a lot of women. Maybe sex with her would be equally casual for him, but it would mean something to her. Nic, her first, here at Rosedale.
Rowan pressed the backs of her knuckles against lips that began to quiver with vulnerability, edging toward one of the biggest decisions of her
