Total pages in book: 14
Estimated words: 13239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 66(@200wpm)___ 53(@250wpm)___ 44(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 66(@200wpm)___ 53(@250wpm)___ 44(@300wpm)
Well, that puts a damper on things. Why does he have to remind me how we’re related? Ah well. It’s probably for the better. I shouldn’t have these thoughts about him, shouldn’t have this kind of reaction.
Weird but understandable. He looks like a Roman god, like those men I see on TV playing superheroes. That chest. Is it as hard as it looks? I want to run my hands—
He slides in the key, turns it, and pushes the heavy wooden door. Even his door looks expensive. Those intricate carvings on the sides? Yup. Definitely expensive. The door to my last apartment was one slam away from falling over me.
We step into the threshold, and my eyes quickly scan his space. For someone without a permanent home and can’t even afford a studio apartment, I’m pretty judgy with other people’s places. I don’t understand it either.
Rowan has an open-concept living area, with nothing but a sectional sofa upholstered in black leather, a wooden coffee table, and a huge TV mounted on the exposed brick wall. Simple. Minimalistic. And so…him.
“You can rest in your bedroom. I’ll make dinner.”
He leads me to a bedroom adjacent to the living room. Its walls are painted light gray. The queen-sized bed has a plush, upholstered headboard with diamond stitching. The crisp, white linens, fluffy pillows, and cozy dark gray duvet make me want to dive into the mattress and find out if it’s as comfy as it looks.
“Dad comes to stay here once in a while, so the room’s always ready.”
I whirl to face him and find his forehead still creased. “You need to stop doing that if you don’t want to have premature wrinkles”
Without thinking, I chuckle and reach out to smooth his forehead. His fingers fly to my wrist, holding it. Oh god.
We both stand in suspended animation, staring into each other’s eyes, the only sound is our heavy breathing. I’m not sure if he can hear, but my heart is beating wildly in my chest.
He sucks in a sharp breath as his fingers brush my forearm, my elbow, and rest on my upper arm. My cheeks are warm, my nerve endings crackling with sparks.
I don’t know how long we stand like that, but the spell is broken when a sharp chime pierces the silence. The sound echoes against the walls, and I feel a vibration in my back pocket.
Rowan’s pupils are blown, and he runs a hand along his five o’clock shadow. I can’t move. I can’t even look away.
But he gives me a sharp, tight nod. “You better get that. Might be important.”
It isn’t. It’s just my friend telling me her cousin, whom I met last year, lives near me and is throwing a Halloween party tomorrow. I don’t want to go, but I’m a pushover, which is why I say yes even if I have nothing to wear.
Minutes later, when I head to the kitchen, I find a microwaved lasagna on the counter. Rowan is nowhere to be found.
****
It is almost midnight and I still can’t sleep.
I’m curled up in bed, the thunder rumbling outside like a beast. Each burst of lightning illuminates the room, and I shut my eyes every time, afraid of finding a silhouette outside my window.
This is yet another reason why I hate Halloween. It amps up my overactive imagination.
Pulling the covers tighter around me, I try to focus on my breathing, but I can’t ward off the fear. The drumming of rain outside the windowpane sends shivers down my spine.
Ugh. I don’t like this town.
I’m a scaredy cat and I scare easily. Like seriously. Some of my friends make fun of me, but it’s never funny when I’m frozen with fear.
I can’t take it anymore. I just can’t. I need a distraction. Maybe there’s a good show or movie on TV.
I jump out of bed, open the door, and sprint to the living room, trying to make myself smaller. I’m halfway there when I notice the door to Rowan’s bedroom ajar. I want to ignore it but…what if he left? What if I’m alone in this apartment right now? Oh god. Please no.
With a deep breath, I gently push his door open a little wider, praying he’s in bed sleeping soundly.
My skin tingles when I see him standing by the window, one hand braced on the frame. His back is hunched, and his other arm is doing something violent or aggressive.
What is he doing? Is he okay? Is something happening to him?
I step into the room, making as little noise as possible, which is fairly easy, especially with the booming thunder. As I get closer, realization dawns on me, and my pulse pounds in my temple.
“Oh, fuck. Yes, Raven. Yes. Just like that. Yes!”
The room starts to spin around me, and I twist my nightgown in my hand. I need to run back to my bedroom before he sees me. I have to. But I can’t move. I’m rooted to the spot, unable to look away no matter how hard I try. Something hot and unfamiliar unfurls in my stomach, my heart drumming against my ribs.