Chapter 20
1339 Words
Rowan was waiting when she stepped outside, leaning casually against the car, hands in his pockets. He looked up the moment he saw her, something unreadable flickering in his eyes—relief, maybe anticipation. The night felt charged again as he straightened, like everything had been paused until she returned.
Charlie nodded, breath a little quick. “They’re out cold. Full chaos recovery mode.”
His gaze lingered on her face, then softened. “Good.”
They stood there for a beat, the night humming around them. Rowan opened the passenger door for her, hand steady, deliberate. When she slid inside, he leaned in just enough for his voice to drop.
“You sure?” he asked. No pressure. Just care.
Charlie met his eyes, pulse racing, and smiled. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
Rowan closed the door gently, heart pounding now too, and walked around to the driver’s side—both of them very aware of the others presence.
The car pulled away smoothly, the city lights fading behind them as the road quieted. Charlie watched the window for a moment, then glanced at Rowan—hands steady on the wheel, jaw relaxed, focus calm in a way that made her feel strangely safe.
They drove in companionable silence, the kind that wasn’t awkward—just charged. When Rowan reached over and rested his hand lightly on her knee, it wasn’t possessive, just grounding. Charlie’s breath stuttered anyway.
Outside, the night stretched open and quiet.
They pulled up beneath a sleek glass tower, Rowan guiding her inside and up—higher and higher—until the doors opened onto a penthouse suite that stole the breath right out of her.
It was stunning. Floor-to-ceiling windows, soft lighting, clean lines, luxury everywhere without feeling cold. The city glittered below like it existed just for them.
Charlie let out a quiet laugh. “Wow. You really undersold very fancy.”
Rowan smiled, watching her take it in. “Still just walls,” he said simply. “But you’re welcome here.”
Rowan set his keys down and shrugged off his jacket, the soft lights of the suite casting everything in a warm glow. Charlie wandered toward the windows, palms resting on the glass as she took in the view—city and ocean stitched together in lights and dark.
Rowan smiled something softer there now. He brushed a curl from her face, knuckles warm against her cheek. The moment stretched—slow, deliberate—until the rest of the world felt very far away.
Whatever came next didn’t need rushing.
The night was theirs.
“Would you like to take a shower?” He asked “I can get you something more comfortable to wear.” He said eyeing that damned black dress.
Rowan’s gaze flicked to her flushed cheeks, then lower—taking her in without a hint of embarrassment on his part. If anything, his smile softened.
“I’ve got shirts,” he said easily. “Too many of them. You’ll disappear in one.”
That only made her blush harder.
“Oh,” she laughed nervously. “Right. Of course you do.”
He stepped a little closer, gentle, reassuring. “No pressure,” he added. “Shower’s just… there if you want it.”
Charlie nodded, still pink, heart doing somersaults. “I want it,” she said quietly.
Rowan’s smile deepened—not triumphant, not smug—just pleased. “Good,” he said, turning toward the bathroom. “I’ll grab you something to wear.”
And as she followed him, still warm with nerves and anticipation, Charlie couldn’t stop smiling at how safe and wanted she felt all at once.
She was perched on the edge of the sofa and dialed Zach, keeping her voice low. She reassured him quickly—everyone was safe, all accounted for, no arrests, just extreme hangovers incoming. Zach laughed, thanked her about ten times, and told her she was officially a legend before hanging up.
She set her phone down just as Rowan headed toward the bathroom, rolling up his sleeves. “I’ll be quick,” he said over his shoulder.
The sound of the shower starting moments later filled the suite, warm and steady. Charlie exhaled, nerves fluttering again—but this time, mixed with something calm. Everything was handled. Everyone was safe.
Rowan stepped out of the bathroom wearing only loose pants, skin still damp, towel slung over his shoulder. Water traced down hard lines of muscle, abs defined and inked with tattoos that disappeared beneath the waistband.
Rowan caught her reaction immediately, a slow smile spreading as he leaned against the doorframe, clearly enjoying this far too much.
She nodded, swallowing hard. “Yep. Totally fine. Just… temporarily lost all higher brain function.”
His laugh was low and warm, and the air between them shifted again—charged, intimate, impossible to ignore.
Charlie forgot how to breathe. She stood up and walked to the bathroom.
When Charlie stepped out of the shower, wrapped only in Rowan’s shirt, she nearly vanished inside it. The fabric hung off one shoulder, sleeves swallowing her, hem brushing mid-thigh. Her hair was damp, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.
Rowan looked up—and stopped.
For a heartbeat, he said nothing. His gaze darkened, heat unmistakable, control tightening behind his eyes. Want rolled off him, contained but fierce.
“Yeah,” he said quietly, voice rough now. “That’s… dangerous.”
Charlie smiled, small and shy, pulse racing as the room seemed to tilt toward him—everything slowing, narrowing, the air thick with what neither of them needed to say out loud.
Charlie crossed the room quickly, suddenly very aware of herself, and sat on the edge of the massive bed like it might steady her. The mattress dipped beneath her, soft and indulgent.
Rowan returned a moment later, handing her a glass of cold water and a painkiller. “For tomorrow,” he said with a faint smile.
She laughed softly, accepting them.
He watched her take the pill, then nodded once, approval warm in his eyes. “I take care of what matters.”
He sat beside her, close enough that she could feel his warmth without being overwhelmed by it. The bed was huge, the city lights spilling softly through the windows, the moment oddly calm after all the intensity.
“Lie down,” Rowan said gently. “You’ve had a long night.”
Charlie did, curling onto her side, clutching the glass for a moment before setting it on the nightstand. She looked impossibly small in his shirt, eyes heavy now, the adrenaline finally ebbing.
Rowan brushed his knuckles lightly along her arm—slow, grounding. “We don’t have to rush anything,” he said quietly. “Just… rest.”
Her eyelids fluttered, a smile curving her lips. “I like how safe you make things feel,” she murmured.
He smiled back, softer than she’d seen him all night, and settled beside her—close, careful, protective—while the city hummed below and the night finally exhaled.
Rowan shifted closer, careful not to crowd her, the bed dipping slightly with his weight. He rested back against the headboard, one arm stretched out near her—an open invitation, not a demand.
Charlie rolled onto her back, then onto her side facing him, eyes heavy but bright. The city lights painted soft shadows across his face, made him look almost unreal.
“You staying?” she asked quietly.
He nodded, his eyes dark, heavy lidded. “All night.”
“This is nice.” A soft, satisfied ‘Mmm’ escaped her lips.
Rowan pressed a deep kiss to the curve of her neck, inhaling her scent. “It is.”
She stared into his eyes, the moment stretching taut, then her gaze dropped, molten and demanding, to his mouth. It was a hungry instinct—inevitable. Charlie leaned in, not waiting, her fingers curling behind his neck, pulling him closer.
Rowan met her halfway.
- Writer
