For Rowan to have already formed an opinion about the topic makes me wonder about his upbringing. I had assumed he grew up much like I did—in a solid middle-class neighborhood in suburbia with two loving parents who supported his dream of playing football. My mind tumbles back to the conversation at the stadium and how guarded he’d become when I asked about his family. Only now do I realize that maybe I jumped to the wrong conclusion.
“But it kind of sounds like you have,” I say softly, hoping to tease out a little more insight.
For a long moment, he remains silent. Just when I wonder if he’ll respond, he says, “When you grow up with very little, and you see people around you with so much more, it makes you question the reason for it.” Rowan jerks his shoulders. “So yeah, maybe I have examined if there’s a purpose to the things that happen to us or shape us into the human beings that we are. It’s kind of depressing to think the struggles we go through in life are pointless and don’t ultimately push us toward our purpose or goals.”
I blink, surprised and yet somehow not by the depth hidden behind Rowan’s pretty façade. There is so much more to him than being a handsome football-playing jock. It’s doubtful most people take the time to get to know him on this level; or that he gives them the opportunity to see him in this light.
“I guess I never thought about it like that.”
He strokes my face. “Maybe that’s why it took so long for you to open your eyes and see me standing in front of you. Maybe we both had to change and grow before we were ready for that next step.”
Everything in me stills as I consider the possibility. Maybe Rowan is correct, and life works out the way it’s supposed to when the time is right. The challenges we work through and ultimately overcome are there to help shape us into the people we were always meant to be.
It's a dizzying thought.
He shrugs, and the seriousness filling his eyes melts away. “You ready for that ice cream?”
When I nod, he closes the distance and brushes his lips across mine. “Good. Then we can go back to your place and have a little rematch. FYI—this time I won’t go so easy on you.”
Laughter bubbles up in my throat, banishing our previous discussion, and lightening the atmosphere. “Oh, please! We both know I kicked your ass fair and square. But hey, it would be my pleasure to crush you all over again.”
He raises a brow. “You always this cocky?”
“That’s not cockiness,” I snort. “It’s confidence.”
“Whatever it is,” his fingers trail over my bare thigh toward the vee between my legs, “it’s sexy as hell.”
My gaze drops to his hand before flicking to his face. I point to the offending appendage. “Yeah, that’s not going to work, bruh. I’m not that distractable.”
“Bruh?” He bursts out laughing. “Is that what I am now? Your bruh?”
“When we’re on the field, and I’m wiping it with your ass, that’s exactly what you are.”
“Have I mentioned how sexy the confidence is?”
I flash him a grin. “Does that mean I’ll be getting lucky afterward?”
A cagey look enters his eyes. “Guess we’re going to find out now, aren’t we?”
Oh, you’re damn right we are.
Game on.
24
Demi
My eyelids flutter, and I blink, focusing on the guy stretched out next to me. His bare chest rises and falls with every deep inhalation. I glance at the window and realize the sun is peeking over the horizon, painting the sky in splashes of pink and purple hues. As beautiful as the sight is, it’s not nearly enough to hold my attention, and my gaze returns to Rowan. His blond hair is spread out across the pillow. His skin’s sun-kissed hue glows against the snowy white sheets, giving him a deep, dark color.
I almost shake my head.
A week ago, I could never have fathomed waking up in bed next to him. Or that he had wanted me this entire time—enough to remain a virgin. Even now, it all seems farfetched. The past thirty-six hours have irrevocably altered our relationship. We can never go back to what it once was.
As swiftly as this has happened, Rowan wants to take our physical relationship slow. After we fooled around in the pool yesterday morning, all I wanted was to feel him deep inside my body. Even though I gave it my best shot, Rowan was adamant about taking our time and waiting.
It’s kind of funny. And a bit of a role reversal. In most of my past relationships, I’ve always been the one to pump the brakes. And now that I’ve finally found a guy I want to tear the clothes off of and get naked with, he’s the one slow tracking sex. I’ve read enough novels to appreciate the irony when I see it. And this situation is chock-full of it.