* * *
They didn’t speak much on the way home, but Seb’s hand on her knee reassured her that they would—that they would find a way to move forward. She placed her fingers on top of his and her heart turned over when he smiled at her. Was that love she saw in his eyes, on his face, or was she just imagining it?
She was probably just imagining it... Yes, he was happy that she was back, but there was no point in jumping to conclusions. She was just setting herself up for a fall. It was enough—it should be enough—to know that that she loved him, that she was home, that she had to take every day as it came and treasure the time she had with him.
She felt Seb’s fingers widen under hers, stretch, and then he patted her knee. ‘You were gripping my hand so hard I lost all feeling. Relax, Ro, we’ll sort this out.’
‘We will?’
Seb sent her his cocky grin. ‘Damn straight. I’m not letting you go again without a fight.’
Rowan looked puzzled. ‘I thought that was a fight.’
‘That wasn’t even close,’ Seb assured her. ‘Now, put your hand back on mine, try not to stop the blood, and relax. We’re going to get home, have a glass of wine and talk it through. Like adults. In a reasonable, mature fashion...’
* * *
They had crazy monkey sex instead. On the stairs...
They walked into the house and Seb closed the front door behind him and dropped her rucksack to the floor. ‘I’ll take this upstairs later. Do you want a glass of wine?’
Rowan shook her head. She didn’t want anything. She just wanted that mouth on hers, that skin under her hands, him inside her.
‘Ro? Water? Juice? Food?’
Rowan shook her head again and Seb looked at her, puzzled. ‘Okay. What do you want?’
‘You. Just you. Right now. Right here,’ Rowan whispered.
And, while she craved his touch, she didn’t expect him to immediately back her into the wall, his mouth covering hers and his hands everywhere. On her breasts, on her butt, her thighs, skimming her face, in her hair. It was as if he was rediscovering her, re-exploring her, touching her for the first time.
And she needed him to feed off her as she was feeding off him. She shoved her hands up and under his T-shirt, pulling it over his head so that she could touch his stomach without the barrier of cotton, run her hands over his chest, up his neck.
‘Do you have any particular attachment to this shirt?’ Seb demanded, his voice hoarse in her ear.
‘Uh? What? No.’
‘Good.’ Seb grabbed each side of her shirt and ripped it open, scattering buttons over the floor. ‘Much better,’ he muttered, shoving the sleeves down her arms and letting it fall to the floor.
A finger hooked the cup of her bra away and his mouth covered her nipple as lust swirled and whirled, hot and fast.
Underneath love quivered and sighed, hoped and dreamt.
‘I missed you so much,’ Rowan said as he unhooked her bra and threw it over his shoulder.
‘This place was like a morgue without you. Get those jeans off,’ he muttered, his fingers busy pleasuring her breasts.
‘Get yours off too,’ Rowan retorted as she wiggled the fabric down her legs.
‘For you? Any time.’ Seb shucked his jeans along with his boxers and stared down at her, his heart in his eyes. ‘You are so beautiful, Ro. I’m so glad you’re home.’
‘Me too.’ Rowan sighed, placing her fingers on his cheek. ‘Now, why don’t you show me how glad you are by—?’
Seb’s mouth cut off her words as one hand hoisted her thigh, his other hand pulled aside her panties and he thrust into her, hard and deep, filling her body, her mind and heart.
Seb. There was only Seb—would only be Seb.
‘Ah, now I’m home,’ Seb said into her mouth. ‘You’re my home, Ro. Only you.’
* * *
Later, after they’d made love again in his bed, Rowan sat on the love seat in the window of Seb’s room and was thankful that he’d said that he needed to run downstairs for a minute.
She needed that minute. She needed more than a minute. To catch her breath, to allow her brain to catch up with her body.
She was trying to be brave, trying not to worry, but her brain was now in hyper-drive, red-lining with worry. Had nothing changed while she was away? Were they just going to fall back into what they’d had? When were they going to talk, work this out, as Seb had suggested in the car?
And what, exactly, did his ‘working it out’ entail?
Rowan released her bottom lip from between her teeth as Seb walked back into the room, carrying a large tray. His boxer shorts rode low on his hips and his 6-pack rippled as he walked over to her.