6
“Rowan?”
He jumped, jostling his teacup, nearly spilling the steaming contents of the painted cup across his lap. He steadied the cup just in the nick of time and, balancing it on his hand, turned and found Nina standing behind him. Her hair danced around her head in a messy bed head halo, framing her face in a radiant glow of flame. Her eyes looked rested, brighter now, and they shone at him with a mix of intrigue and tenderness. Her lips of rose twisted into a small, cute smile, painting her freckled face into a picture of light rosy restfulness. Rowan’s oversized, hand knit cardigan hung loosely from her narrow shoulders and gaped open as she walked, allowing him generous glances of her moon shaped breasts. He grinned and scratched at his dark beard, setting his teacup down upon the table.
“Hey there Nina,” he said quietly, admiring the way the moonlight fell through the window and tickled her thin body with a golden glow. “Sorry, you just startled me a bit right there. I was just lost in thought.”
Nina ran her eyes over his tan, muscular body. He sat on the couch now, shirtless, the dim light of the room casting shadows across his toned form, emphasizing the true beauty of his build. His dark hair fell in loose tangles down his neck, and his tattoos curled around his shoulders in a way that somehow sent goose bumps running up and down Nina’s bare arms. She swallowed and played with a strand of golden red hair that tickled her cheek.
“Sorry about that,” she blushed, tugging at the hair absentmindedly. “What were you thinking about, Rowan?”
Rowan’s face clouded over slightly, and Nina could not read the overcast expression that suddenly filled his eyes. He stared down into his china cup of warm liquid for a moment, as if seeing in the water the events of his past. Then he shook his head, smiled, and looked back up at Nina, running a hand through his hair in a way that made his biceps pop and Nina’s heart skip a beat.
“What was I thinking about? Ahhh, just old things. You know how memories are, they just catch you off guard sometimes. Nothing important at all, you know.”
He grinned, scratching at his beard, casting his eyes over Nina’s faerie form. God, she was beautiful. So innocent and sheltered, and yet so fierce, tongue like a whip, passion like a thunderstorm. He shook the cloudiness of his memories from his mind and focused his whole attention on the girl that stood before him. After all, she was so stunning, and truly so captivating, that giving her his undivided attention was not at all difficult. Simply looking at her, finding her standing there, gracing his cabin with her overwhelming attractiveness, brought a smile to Rowan’s face.
“How did you sleep?” he asked.
Nina stared into the fireplace, her green eyes becoming transfixed, tangling with the mesmerizing dance of the flames. Rowan had stoked the fire for several long minutes while Nina slept far into the evening; so that when she awoke, it would be to a cabin that was warm and comfortable as her sleep had been. Nina watched the flames lap at the top of the brick fireplace, leap over each other, twirl around charred bits of twigs, crumple and then spring back to life in blue red light.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it,” Rowan agreed, following Nina’s green-eyed gaze towards the leaping flames.
Nina nodded, her lips hanging open in a way that made Rowan’s heart flutter. He reached out and carefully grabbed his teacup of steaming hot beverage, brought it to his lips, and sipped, all the while his eyes dancing back and forth between the artful pictures of the raging fire and the girl with the fire hair.
Nina’s eyes fell at last from the flames and instead upon the glass from which Rowan sipped. She watched him slurp the steamy, cozy beverage from the cup and she stifled a laugh to see this large, lean, muscular man with the dark eyes and tattoos crawling all over his flesh, sipping delicately from a china tea cup. She choked while trying to swallow down her laughter, and caused the dark haired man to turn her way.
“What was that?” Rowan asked, mistaking her coughs for the beginnings of a sentence. Nina flushed and scrambled for words.
“Oh… I was just, uh… Um,” her eyes again fell upon the muscular man clutching at a china teacup, and the words snapped onto her tongue, ready to be shared, with ease. “I just wondered what you were drinking,” she said, sidling up to him and pointing to the teacup with steam swaying from its lip.
Rowan smiled up at her, waggling his eyebrows happily.
“Ahhhh,” he said, taking the teacup gingerly in both his hands. “That, my dear, is a very good question indeed. This right here is the one and only, home made, and hand made, best you’ll ever drink in your entire life, Rowan apple cider brew.” Rowan winked, and Nina giggled.
“Okay,” she said. “But I will only believe it if I taste it for myself.”
Rowan nodded, his face a mask of mocking genuineness.
“Oh, but of course, my darling,” he said, waving his arms about in grotesque, over the top charades. “And I shall myself serve it to you, on a silver platter!”
He leaped up and scurried over dramatically across the room to fetch a tea cup from where it hung on the wall. Nina blushed and rolled her eyes at Rowan’s over the top charades.
“Oh my goshhhhh,” she said, fighting to ward the crimson away from her freckled cheeks. “It really must be pretty fucking like alcoholic, huh?” She asked, watching in amusement as Rowan spun in a circle and ran back to her, presenting her with the teacup.
“Oh, absolutely. Nothing but the best from Rowan’s best in the world apple cider brewery!”
Rowan laughed deeply, warmly. He crossed to the fire, still chuckling, grabbed an iron spit, and fished a kettle from the coals. Nina watched as he carefully brought the kettle over, balancing it carefully as it spewed steam and hung precariously from the iron spit. Then he tipped it forward, and it poured its contents into her china cup. As the freshly poured glass of cider steamed and sang, Rowan walked back to the fire, crouched carefully, and slid it again into the flames.
Nina sniffed at the steam wafting from her glass of hot cider and her eyes widened in appreciation.
“Oh, wow, Rowan,” she said honestly. “That smells truly incredible.”
Rowan grinned and bounded back to the couch, scooping up his own china cup of cider in his hands.
“Just wait til you see how it tastes!” He said. He took a small sip of his cider, then added, glancing at Nina. “Though I am betting it will not taste anywhere near as sweet as you do.”
Nina felt her cheeks burn as deeply red as the flames that danced before them. She looked up at Rowan and grinned bashfully.
“You think so, do you?” She teased, playing her finger along the rim of the china cup.
Rowan nodded, his face serious now.
“Yes, I really do,” he said sincerely.
He placed his china cup of cider back down upon the table before them and reached out a hand. He ran his fingers softly through Nina’s mane of electric red hair; traced the outline of her cheekbones, emphasized by the flickering light of the flames; ran his fingers fondly over her lips, down the side of her neck, and lightly over her collar bones. Nina’s heart beat rapidly in her chest as Rowan’s tattooed fingers danced over her pale skin. She found herself leaning forward, pressing her forehead into his chest, nuzzling up to him as they sat clutching mugs of homemade cider before the flames.
“Thank you,” she heard herself whispering, pressing her rose colored lips against his ear.
Rowan felt the shivering words resound within the pit of his stomach, and he trembled. She was so close, she smelled so sweet, she felt so warm, pressing up against him with such ease. He stretched an arm around her and held her closely, running his hand over the gentle curves of her body, feeling the swell of her breasts, the roundness of her hips, the gorgeous pale mountain range of Nina’s form beneath the drapery of the cotton bath robe.
He leaned forward and kissed her lightly upon her upper lip. Nina’s eyes blinked lazily, and she reached a hand down to fondly stroke his upper thigh. He held her head against his chest and kissed her again, planting his dark face upon her mass of red tangled hair.
“Rowan?” she suddenly asked over the crackling and hissing of the fire. Rowan pulled back ever so slightly so that he could look her in the eyes. Staring into those stunning, vibrant green irises made his stomach flip.
“Yes.”
“How am I…” Nina squirmed slightly.
His touch felt so good, so right, but she could not allow herself to believe that he wanted this, that he wanted her. There was no way, Nina reasoned, that someone like Rowan would want to have anything to do with someone like her. This is probably just the kind of thing this guy does, Nina told herself. He finds strange girls, lost in the forest, takes them back to his cabin to rest up or whatever, fucks them, and then never talks to them again. That is obviously what this is, it has to be. There is no fucking way, Nina, that someone that beautiful is even remotely interested in someone like you.
Yet even as the words crossed her mind, she felt that they were not true, did not accurately depict the man that sat before her. For although she barely knew him, she felt sure, in her heart, that Rowan was gentle yet strong, smart and savvy, caring and creative, protective and loyal. She did not see him as the type to sleep with strangers he found lingering around his property, she saw him, rather, as a sort of hero, a sort of superhero of the forest, someone always there to guard the lost and provide a wandering traveler with a warm fire and a bite to eat.
Still, Nina thought, he does not want you to stick around forever. And you need to get home. Concussion or not. She nodded quickly to herself and continued.
“How am I supposed to get home?” She finished, eyeing Rowan carefully. He swallowed his mouthful of tea and stared into the fire, looking thoughtful.
“Well,” he began slowly, his eyes still hanging upon every dance step the flames executed so brilliantly. “It will require a trip. A long trip. A trip we definitely plan for. And I will go with you, of course, to guide you along your way, to make sure you reach your destination safely and protected.” He nodded, as if mulling it over in his mind and finding this to indeed be the best course of action. “But of course,” he added, turning to Nina, his lips curling slightly in joy as he again found his eyes sparking as they bounced off of her own. “That will not be able to happen for a while. At least not until you are no longer concussed. We cannot risk taking you out for days of strenuous journeying through this beast of a forest when you are too sick to even stay awake for more than three hours at a time.”
Nina glared at him accusingly.
“I can stay awake…” she began, but she was cut off by a giant yawn crashing down upon the sentence.
Rowan began to laugh aloud, slapping at his knees in amusement. Nina recovered from the yawn, blinking her eyes, and looked irritated, but after a few moments, she, too, burst into laughter.
“Okay, okay,” she said, waving his laughter away. “We will wait until I am better. But only if I’m not bothering you by staying here, you know,” she added quickly, looking at him dangerously.
Rowan fixed Nina with a loving gaze.
“Bothering me? Oh, I could think of a couple of ways you could bother me more,” he winked, his voice, as ever, a low, rumbling, comfortable growl.
Nina grinned and flopped back against his arm.
“Careful,” she warned, her eyes beginning to slide closed again. “You play with fire, you might just get burned.”
***
Nina woke to the hiss of the flames and the sound of light rain pattering against the glassy window panes. She stirred, knocking her empty cup of cider over on the table, rustling free from the quilted blankets of the couch. Rowan must have tucked her in, safe and sound, when she nodded off. She smiled to herself at the thought of the dark, toned man curling the blankets safely around her sleeping form, perhaps delivering a gentle kiss to the bridge of her nose. She folded the blanket and placed it upon the couch again, and stood up, adjusting the bathrobe, tying it about her lithe waist. The fabric tugged as it stretched over her perfectly round breasts, emphasizing her pointed nipples.
She began to walk to the kitchen when a sound stopped her. It was the whirring of a motor, and its sound oscillated, as if the motor was somehow circling the small cabin in the woods. Nina stood very still, her hands pressing against her curved hips, her head cocked forward, her ears on alert, listening, listening. The motor revved loudly to the west of the cabin, then faded to a low rumble towards the north. It grew to a mueling purr as it neared the east of the cabin, then again dipped down to a threatening muffled growl as it seemingly drove onwards to the south.
Nina’s face scrunched up in confusion. There seems to be very little electricity out here, if any, she thought, glancing around and suddenly realizing that Rowan’s humble cabin did not seem to include any outlets, any light switches, or any phones, computers, or television systems, for that matter.
Something not unlike queasiness pitched in the pit of her stomach. The roaring sound continued outside, circling and circling the cabin, and it was then, for the first time, that the reality of the situation really sunk in for Nina.
Shit, she thought, the thought cracking like an egg yolk and splattering across her consciousness. I am like, completely cut off from the outside world. I am completely alone.
The revving of the motor growing closer again made Nina jump and startled her out of her panicked thoughts. She ran to the window and pressed her hands upon the glass, pulling her nose so close to the cool pane that she could see her breath beginning to fog bits of the glass with her every exhalation. She waited, her heart racing, her fingers nearly trembling, for the motor sound to again circle around to the west side of the cabin. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she heard the growling growing louder again, and then, VRRRRRRRRRR! She could even feel the purring of the motor in her bones; the glass shivered under her touch, the sound was so loud. She pushed her face right up against the glass and squinted into the darkness of the forest night. And she saw it: a set of headlights, high beams, blazing a whirring trail right next to the house, a dark figure, gleaming black helmet reflecting moonlight, leather jacket tails flying out in the wind behind him as he carved a dangerous path, sharp turns, wheelies, screeching speed, around and around the cabin.
Nina dropped her hands from the glass of the window pane and took several very quick steps back. She secured Rowan’s bathrobe more tightly around her, covering her chest, yanking the hem to hide more of her body from this predatory stranger. Her heart leaped into her mouth and stayed there, and she stood panting with panic, trying to decide what it was that she should do. She ran to Rowan’s bedroom and through open the door, nothing. She checked the bathroom, tearing back the shower curtain, rifling through his linen closet. Nothing. She sprinted back to the kitchen as the motorcycle again revved past the west side of the house. Nothing. She glanced back and forth, frantic now, and her jumping eyes fell upon the mounting on the wall.
The gun. She remembered. Rowan’s rifle.
Nina rushed forward and hopped up and down. Her fingers latched around the gun’s butt, and she pulled. The rifle came tumbling down into her hands, and she caught it in a careful embrace. Hands shaking, she ran her fingers over its slender body, praying that she could somehow do the right thing if it came time to pull the machine’s trigger.
Mounting the gun against her shoulder, drawing it with a trembling finger, peering forward with uneasy eyes, Nina kicked open the front door of the cabin and staggered out into the night on her bare feet. The grass was cool against her naked toes, and the moon was full and hung heavy in the sky, illuminating the property in a ghostly glow. At any other time Nina would have found the moon’s light romantic, but now she saw something threatening in the way the white light painted the lawn half in light, half in shadow. She swallowed and walked forward. Then the motor sound approached again, and she threw her body against the ground, her breath heaving audibly in her throat, her eyes shooting open so wide they matched the roundness of the moon, the gun still held at the ready as she peered forward, her cheek pressed to the grass.
The motorcyclist edged dangerously close to Nina, so close that she could smell the scent of the tire rubber creating friction as it ground against the dusty grass. She held her breath, the sound of the motor screaming at a deafening volume into her ears, the dust kicked up by the speeding of the motorcycle wafting over her and choking her breath. Her mouth felt as if it had been rubbed with sand and her eyes burned from the sprays of dirt. She wound her fingers even more tightly around the butt of the gun, her hands no longer trembling, though they were now so sweaty she feared they might slip off the gun altogether. All she could think as the man sped past her and widened his path, again dipping into the shadow, muffling the sound of the motor, concealing his figure in darkness, was: WHERE ARE YOU, ROWAN!
Sure that she was out of the sight line of the predatory biker, Nina pushed herself off of the ground and ran to the side of the house. She kept her back against the wall and skittered sideways, holding the gun against her chest, the butt upright, her hand still hovering shakily over the trigger, forever at the ready. She closed her eyes hard as the sound of the motorcycle rounding the corner and growing closer again bounced off of her ears. She saw him turn the corner, slamming himself into the turn at such a high speed and at such last minute that his body arched dangerously close to the ground, and she heard him cry out, in joy or in fear, she did not know, and she did not care to find out. When he was no more than twenty feet from her she took a huge breath and sprinted, screaming, out into the darkness, the rifle raised high above her head, her voice cracking and her dry throat burning from the charring of dust against her vocal chords, tears pricking her eyes. She stopped when she was certain she stood in his trail, raised the gun, and aimed it.
“STOP THE FUCK NOW, OR I SERIOUSLY WILL FUCKING SHOOT!” She bellowed, her voice high-pitched and angry, her hands trembling once again, but her heart and mind ready, set on the action she threatened.
She cleared her throat and grunted anxiously and lined up the shot as best she could. She placed her finger upon the trigger and felt her sweaty finger slide down its curve. She stubbornly drove her finger back onto the top of the trigger again and panted, her breaths anxiously tripping over themselves in shaky trembles. The motorcyclist continued to drive towards her at incredibly high speed, showing no sign of stopping. He was fifteen feet away now. Nina fixed her shot, forcing her arms to stop shaking. He was ten feet away now. Nina steadied the gun, took a deep breath in, and drove her teeth down onto her bottom lip, tasting blood. It focused her. All things seemed to stop, and clarity took over, peacefulness settled upon her. He was five feet away. Nina loaded the chamber and flicked her finger, ready to shoot.
He was two feet away.
Nina latched her finger on the trigger.
She pulled.
BANG!
The bullet flew from the mouth of the gun and cracked the darkness of the night, just as the motorcyclist suddenly veered right, then left, then reached to his side and in one swift movement grabbed Nina by the waist and threw her onto the back of the motorcycle.
Nina screamed and slammed her fists against the man’s back. She kicked at his feet, but her own bare feet cried out in pain upon meeting the cool metal feel of the man’s steel toed boots. Nina decided she had but one choice. She had to jump. She turned her body to the side, swung her leg over the seat and, with a thundering heart, prepared herself to leap from the speeding motorcycle.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the man suddenly said.
Nina’s head snapped back to face him. Her shoulders were heaving up and down from fright, and she felt beyond shaken, but she swore she knew that voice. She swung her leg back over the seat of the motorcycle and reached forward unsteadily. She caught the black gleaming helmet of the motorcycle’s driver in her hands and tore it off, throwing it out into the air, then quickly grabbed at his back in order to keep herself from flying the helmet in its wild and deadly dance into the night.
Dark black locks of wild hair flew back from the driver’s head, whipping her in the face.
“Goddamnit Rowan!” she screamed. She punched him, hard, in the shoulder.
He started laughing a low, grumbling laugh, and she felt so angry she thought she might shove him from the seat. But the speed was so intense, and the air was whipping by them so fast that she quickly felt her anger subside, having been completely taken over by fear of falling. She wrapped her arms around the leather jacket and squeezed him around his waist, clutching his chest desperately.
“There you go,” Rowan called back as the wind hit them both in the face. “That’s a better plan than jumping, Nina!”
“Seriously, fuck you!” Nina screamed into his ear, and she heard him chuckle.
She squeezed more tightly, ducking her head from the wind, using his wide shoulders to shield her from the whipping, cool night air, driving her nails into his stomach, that part was simply to teach him a lesson, to scold him against the great fright he had given her.
“Were you actually going to shoot me?” Rowan yelled into the wind.
Even in the whipping and whistling of the wind, Nina could hear the amusement in his voice. She felt both her fear and anger melt away as she realized how close he was to her now, her body pressed against his, nothing but open land and endless night sky and air all around them, them flying through the darkness at lightning speed, throwing away all fears and inhibitions.
“This is nice,” she heard herself say. She was surprised to hear the words coming out of her own mouth. She leaned back slightly, letting the wind slap her on the cheeks.
“What?” Rowan yelled again.
He jerked the steering sideways sharply, and they revved around the corner, nearly skimming the ground. Nina screamed, but her shrieking quickly turned into giggling as Rowan righted the motorcycle and they continued forward at incredible speed.
“I said, yes I was actually going to shoot you!” Nina called, pressing her head against his neck.
The air felt clean and good against her skin, and she screamed out in joy this time, raising her legs and swinging them against Rowan’s thighs. He laughed and screamed out too, joining voices with her, both of them happy, truly happy, and letting the entire population of trees and stars and emptiness know it.
“I didn’t know you had a motorcycle!” She screamed, laughing again as Rowan spun a three sixty and revved back the other way through the darkness.
“There are a lot of things about me you don’t know,” he called back, his eyes fixed on the darkness ahead.
He stared into the blackness, the high beams bouncing off the grassy ground and splashing against the wall of trees that was the forest. He felt Nina pressed against his back, her arms comforting wrapped tightly around his middle, her breath warm against his neck, the smell of her surrounding him, warm and comfortable, like a cozy sweater. He gunned the machine forward at high speed, and her excited shrieking sounded in his ear, which made him laugh and made him feel as joyous as he had felt on that first morning when he had purchased the Harley. He shot the machine through the darkness, everything flying by in a pastel blur of black blue and green and brown, and then he braked, coming to a stop just inches from the front door of the house.
Nina, still laughing, breath heaving, cried out again in joy, her arms loosening from their tight grip around Rowan’s muscled waist and falling to his thighs. She leaned back, shaking her hair out, a wild dance of tendrils of flame against the coal black backdrop of night, and slid herself from the motorcycle.
“Well then,” she said, jumping down and onto the ground. “That was something else!”
Rowan grinned and turned the key in the ignition. The motor died, and he pulled the key from the bike and parked it against the cabin. He walked forward to retrieve the gun. Nina watched him, his tight black jeans hugging his popping muscles, his ass working up and down as he walked slowly across the moonlit lawn. Her stomach flipped, and she jogged across the darkness to where the helmet laid. She picked it up, rubbing the scuffs of dirt from its shiny surface with the sleeve of the robe. Then she walked back to the cabin, to meet Rowan.
“Thank you for that,” she said. She handed him the helmet, and he smiled. He hugged it under his arm, his other arm preoccupied with the carrying of the gun. “What did you mean when you said there were things I didn’t know about y…” she began, but before she could finish, he had leaned forward and kissed her so passionately that the words had slipped from her lips and out of her mind.
“Thank you,” he said. He chuckled and began to walk back inside. “When I hopped onto the bike tonight, I definitely did not think I was going to be getting myself into a shootout with a fair maiden who happened to be wearing nothing but a bathrobe.”
He turned to glance over his shoulder at Nina, standing several steps behind him, the robe hanging open to reveal the curve of her perfectly round breast, the night air helping to reveal the prick of her nipples pressing against the fabric. The material flapped slightly in the wind, revealing her taut stomach, her thick thighs. He bit his lip and continued walking into the cabin. Nina followed him in.
“Well, you really can’t say that I didn’t warn you,” she said, closing the door behind them.
Rowan placed the helmet upon a chair and slid the gun back up take its place atop the mount. He turned, an eyebrow arched up his forward, his face rosy with the kisses of the wind, his hair mussed and wild from the terrific speed of the ride. Nina felt her knees tremble at his image: muscled, tan, wild, tattooed. She swallowed to maintain her steely composure.
“You warned me?” he said, his lips twisting in interest. “Oh really. How is that?”
“I told you,” she said, stepping forward. “If you play with fire,” and she tossed her hair flirtatiously, her green eyes glinting as she teased him. “Then you might just get burned.”
Rowan stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. He wrapped an arm around her thin waist and dipped her low to the floor, his dark hair falling into her face.
“Alright, then, fire girl,” he said, his voice dripping with seduction. “Come on. Burn me.” And he pressed his lips to her face and lowered her slowly to the floor.
Nina wrapped her arms around the back of Rowan’s neck, tangled her fingers in his hair. She ran her lips up and down his neck as he untied her bathrobe. Then he gently took her hands from his body and laid them down upon the cool wood floor that lay beneath their wind kissed bodies. He looked her in the eyes and felt his heart pulse hard against his ribs. He leaned his head forward and began to kiss her neck, then her chest, then her rib cage. He kissed down her body, all the way down her thighs, her legs, to her toes, then back up the other side. His eyes closed, his dark lashes pressed against his tanned and rosy skin, his tattooed flesh rolling over her gently, lovingly, feeling every inch of her.
He was worshipping her pale flesh, her beauteous curves, the graceful way her ankles became her calves, her calves turned into ample thighs; the shivering perfection of her thighs as they curved to encompass the moony roundness of her ass. He licked her sides, her breasts, her shoulder, her collar bones which were white and thin, her neck, her cheek, her eyelashes. He stopped at the tips of her hair, the place where her scalp met the fiery red locks, and suddenly, his eyelids flickered open again. His eyes were large, their coal like orbs somber, more serious than Nina had ever seen. He stared into her green eyes and saw the flickering black of his own reflection staring back at him, tiny within those stunning glassy green orbs. And before he knew what he was saying he felt his heart swell and pump the words out of him.
“I love you,” he said, and the syllables fell nakedly across her lips, her chest, soft and yet heavy, all at once.
Her smile fell from her face, and she stared up at him, pale, not at all reacting, her eyes seeming at once full and empty. Her hands fell further away from him, and she pulled her moonlight colored body out from underneath him, pushing herself up and into a sitting position across from him on the cool surface of the floor.
“What,” was the only word that slipped from her lips.
The word was barely a word at all, more of a whisper, more of the ghost of a word as it trembled upon her pink lips. She looked at him, her plump mouth hanging open, her fingers fluttering around her middle, as if trying to locate her heart and check in with the organ in order to see how it felt about this woodsman’s sudden and total proclamation.
Rowan felt for a moment like he should take the words back but, no, he would not, he could not, and he did dare not. For in that second he felt with the entire fullness of his being that those three words were the most truthful words that his lips had ever birthed, that he had ever dared to speak. He realized, in that second, as his heart continued to swell and scream with joy, as he stared at the beautiful woman that sat before him, her breasts heaving up and down in shock at the words she had felt against her ears, that this, this was his truth. Nina was the most real thing that Rowan had experienced. More real than his getting back to basics out in the middle of the forest; more real than his having built his home, with his own hands, from the ground up; more real than foraging and growing his own food each and every day, than tending to his animals and making his own medicinal remedies, his own alcohol, his own herbs, and his own heat. He stared transfixed at the miracle that sat before him, and he said it again then, now sure of it, now saying the words with passion, with intent, feeling them, savoring their taste against his mouth, the feel of them leaving his lips.
“I love you,” he said again, more loudly this time, more solidly, and he looked at her, a huge, genuine smile creeping across his well-defined face. He grinned and said it again, his lips large and full of life, moisture cropping up in the corners of his eyes. “Nina, I love you.”
Nina stared at the good-looking man that sat before her. Tattoos crept and tangled up and down his flesh, holding him together, it seemed, with etches of ink and the tails of snakes. She knew he should not love her, could not possibly want her, and yet, had the very words of love themselves not just danced willingly off of his tongue, from his very soul? Her heart raced wildly as she stared back at him, wanting him so badly she felt her middle burning, her fingers aching to run themselves over his body and sing out, I love you! I love you too! I love you too!
Rowan crawled forward slowly, his eyes wet with passion, his jaw set with determination. He pressed his face inches away from her own. And then he repeated it again.
“Nina,” he said softly, but solidly, staring into her eyes, falling deep within those green orbs. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Nina breathed, and a rush of joy overwhelmed her, took over her being, and she could no longer hold herself back.
She leaped upon him, wrapped him in her arms, and they tumbled backward against the floor, holding tightly to each other, hugging each other so closely, as if desperately willing their bodies to meld into one being made entirely of love.
Rowan squeezed the red headed girl against his chest, running his hands fondly over her tangled mass of fiery hair, gripping at her eyes with his own, willing himself not to cry in sheer joy. He kissed her again, running his lips over her own, his nerves electric, excited at the touch of her, her fingers on his cheeks sparking explosions of ecstasy within him. Holding her so closely against his body gave him the calm he had always been in search of, for all of those long, hard, unsatisfied years.
Feeling her body moving slowly up and down, on top of his own flesh, now, made every second of those years he had deemed wasted, those years spent behind a computer screen, pounding out formulas to generate sums for people he did not know and did not care to know; those long, awful years… they all now seemed worth while, just to hug this pale skinned girl against his body now. He pressed his lips into her hair and breathed in the scent of her as she kissed his neck, his chin, his cheek. He wanted to jump up and down, to scream, to tell everyone he had ever met, had used to know, that he had done it, he had succeeded, he had found the key to happiness, the answer to life, and it was her, this girl, this stunning woman that he now clutched so fondly against his chest. Instead, Rowan simply lay they are, happy to do nothing but trace the outline of her head through the mass of her tangled red hair, his fingers exploring the ridges of her body.
They stayed like that on the floor for over an hour, simply tracing the outlines of each others’ bodies, finding new areas to kiss and hold, enjoying the feeling of their forms pressed together, seeping in their newly professed love. Finally, as dawn began to crack across the sky and filter in through the windows, Rowan peered at Nina. Her fingers had stopped their wandering moments ago, and he saw through his own sleepy eyes that she had fallen asleep upon his chest. Smiling wearily, he scooped up her sleeping form and carried her gently, protected in his muscular arms, across the cabin and back to his bedroom.
He pulled back the sheets with one arm and carefully lowered her into the bed. Then he slid in beside her and pulled the cool sheets up over them both. He wrapped her safely into his arms and pressed a soft kiss against her cheek.
“Sleep well, my love,” he whispered in her ear, stroking her hair as the amber light of the breaking morning slithered in through the window and draped the shadowed room in pleasant, drowsy light. Then he let his head fall to the pillow and quickly fell asleep.