Page 45 of Off the Mark
The sound of his laughter turned a few heads in our direction. I took a step closer, pulse jumping. “Should we go in for a romantic hug? For the optics, I mean—”
Rowan closed the small distance between us before I could finish talking. His strong, sun-warmed arms wrapped around my mid-back, which had me looping my arms around his neck, shooting up to my tiptoes until his face was pressed into the crook of my shoulder.
The endless, persistentacheI’d felt since the bar roared awake. I was surrounded by his scent of sunscreen and fresh grass. His chest was a solid weight, pressed to mine, and when he released a long, steady breath, it caressed the curve of my throat.
“Did we practice nuzzling the other day?” he whispered against my skin. “Just feels like the romantic thing to do during a hug.”
My fingers trailed down to the collar of his shirt, dipping in to settle at the hollow of his collarbone. Then lower, to the first inch of exposed chest and rough hair. “I don’t remember. You should demonstrate, see if it jogs my memory.”
There wasn’t an inch between us, so I felt the rumbled vibrations of his approval. His palm splayed across my back, holding me firmly while the tip of his nose dragged up the column of my throat.
The surge of white-hot lust that erupted from this motion had my nails digging lightly into his chest. This time, that rumbled sound was more growl than laughter, and I swear togod, Rowan pressed his face against my neck andsmelled me.
I forced back the plaintive whimper on the tip of my tongue. It was ahug, for fuck’s sake. I didn’t need to shatter every inch of my cool because he inhaled me like a wild animal.
“How was that?” he murmured, his mouth open and hot, with thebarestgraze of his teeth.
“Fine,” I said, parroting my words from the other day.
This time, his laughter was razor-edged and pitched low enough only for me to hear. “You really do enjoy making me work for it, don’t you, Maddox?”
“And you’ve always liked doing the work,” I taunted. In the back of my mind, I knew we were standing in a very public lobby, but that wasn’t important at the moment. Right then, with Rowan’s lips on my neck and lust searing through my veins, I felt a thrilling recklessness.
Until I realized he was delicately extricating himself from my embrace, stepping back with a glazed look in his eyes that gave me a flutter deep in my belly. He raked a hand through his hair and nodded at the front doors.
“You didn’t ask me here just for hugs,” he said—lightly. Carefully. “Let’s get you the fried eggs and scrapple that I promised.”
“For sure, yeah. Lead the way.” I sounded all breathless and hated it. Though Rowan’s jaw was locked tight, and his voice had a rough scrape to it I’d never heard before.
All those years of watching him flirt with other women at Jolene’s like it was his actual job, and he’d never looked so on the verge of losing control.
But whatever had happened between us just then was romantic enough—orsomethingenough—to attract attention. He took my hand as we neared the front glass doors, and I felt scrutiny on us the whole way.
“We’ve got some fans,” he said under his breath.
My gaze slid sideways to his. “Sure do. All that neck nuzzling did the trick.”
A grin flew across his face, teeth bright white beneath the hot Philly sun. He didn’t respond, merely pulled me across the street and into the bustling market I hadn’t visited yet.
We stepped through the doors of Reading Terminal Market and into a happy sort of chaos—food vendors as far as I could see, open produce stalls, neon signs, glass cases displaying chocolate-covered pretzels and hot, fresh donuts.
And everywhere,people—shopping, eating, haggling. I caught the scent of warm bread and sizzling steak before Rowan was gently guiding me onto a diner stool.
He sat next to me, one elbow propped on the counter, that easygoing grin only widening as an older woman with dark brown hair and an Eagles jersey slapped her notebook down and triumphantly clapped Rowan on the arm.
“How the hell are ya, Rowan? How’s Alice?” she half yelled.
“Never been better. And Alice is a menace to society who swears I’ve abandoned her whenever I go more than twenty-four hours without visiting.”
The woman hooted. “So the same as always?”
“Yeah and I hope she never fucking changes,” he replied, then pointed at me. “Tina, this is Charlie. She races dirt bikes for a living. You might have seen all the riders across the street.”
I shook her hand, and she eyed me, intrigued. “I ride a motorcycle myself, a Harley Sportster. I always did appreciate a lady on a bike.”
I grinned back. “Ladies on bikes need to stick together. You should come watch us race at the track outside the city. We get rowdy out there.”
“And Charlie Maddox is one of the best,” Rowan added.
