The feeling Of Want

My memory of our sex during those times as married couples was not the best. But he never forced me, and he always did foreplay to get me ready. But now… I was falling for it willingly.

Was it because of the cave? The heat of survival pressing down on us, forcing us closer in ways I never anticipated? Or was it the fact that he… was changing?

The amnesia had turned him into an entirely different man.

Rowan wasn’t the same person I had fought with, the man I had resented, the man who had been closed off, calculating, impossible to reach. That Rowan had been driven by something else—by obligation, by expectations, by whatever burdens had been placed on his shoulders long before I was in the picture. But now… now he was just here. Just him. No past, no baggage—just raw instinct.

And I felt it.

The way he touched me now—without hesitation, without the careful restraint I remembered, without disgust, it ignited something deep inside me. His hands traced my sides, firm and possessive, his body pressing into mine as if the need had consumed him entirely.

I gasped against his lips as he pushed me back onto the soft bundle of supplies we had scavenged into a makeshift bed. The damp chill of the cave was nothing compared to the heat pooling between us.

His breath was ragged as he hovered over me, fingers dragging down my ribs, my hips. "Tell me to stop." His voice was hoarse, strained, as if he were barely holding himself back.

I knew that tone.

It was Rowan’s last shred of control.

But I didn’t want him to stop.

I shook my head, my fingers curling into the soaked fabric of his shirt. "No," I whispered. "I don’t want you to."

A curse slipped from his lips, and then he was kissing me again—harder, deeper, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that sent shivers down my spine.

His hands pushed under my shirt, his fingertips tracing the curve of my waist, my stomach. I arched into his touch, a quiet moan escaping me as he moved lower.

He froze.

For a split second, he just looked at me—his amber eyes dark, wild, searching.

Like he was seeing me for the first time.

Then, his lips brushed against my ear. "You feel different."

I swallowed hard, my pulse pounding. "So do you."

Rowan let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead against mine. His hands skimmed over my hips, gripping me like he was anchoring himself. "I don’t remember… us. Not really." His voice was rough, almost hesitant. "But I know I want you."

My chest tightened.

Because I wanted him too.

Not just because of the storm, or the fear, or the rush of adrenaline keeping us on edge. I wanted this Rowan—the one who looked at me like I was the only thing in his world. The one who touched me like he felt something, something real, something that went deeper than memory.

And maybe… maybe that’s what scared me the most.

Because when this was over, when his memories came back—what would happen then?

Would he still look at me this way?

Would he still want me?

I didn’t know.

But right now, I didn’t care.

I pulled him closer, my hands sliding beneath his soaked shirt, feeling the taut muscles beneath. His body was warm despite the chill, solid against mine. His breath hitched as my fingers moved lower, teasing the waistband of his pants.

"Remi…" He exhaled sharply, gripping my wrist.

I met his gaze.

His restraint was hanging by a thread. I could see it—the way his jaw tensed, the way his fingers curled just a little too tightly around me.

A challenge sparked in my chest.

I had spent so long resenting him, pushing him away, convincing myself that I didn’t want this. That I didn’t want him.

But I had been lying.

I had wanted him. I just wanted him like this.

Without the past. Without the mistakes. Without the weight of who we used to be pressing down on us.

So I leaned up, pressing my lips to his ear, and whispered, "Then don’t stop."

Something snapped.

Rowan groaned, low and guttural, before crushing his mouth against mine. His grip on my wrist loosened, and suddenly his hands were everywhere—exploring, claiming, devouring.

I gasped as he rolled us over, pinning me beneath him, his knee parting my legs. His mouth moved down my neck, teeth scraping just enough to make me arch against him. His hands slid up my thighs, pushing my damp clothes aside with a deliberate slowness that made me tremble.

Heat coiled low in my stomach, my breath hitching as his fingers teased against bare skin. My head tipped back against the makeshift bedding, my body begging for more.

I barely registered the distant rumble of thunder outside.

Because right now, the only storm that mattered—

Was the one between us.

Rowan’s mouth was everywhere.

Hot, desperate, relentless.

His lips dragged down my neck, sucking at the skin just enough to make me shudder, just enough to leave a mark.

I gasped when his tongue flicked over my collarbone, his fingers gripping the hem of my shirt, yanking it over my head in one rough motion. The air was cold against my skin, but his hands were warm, calloused, possessive as they ran over my bare stomach, up the curve of my ribcage.

Then his mouth was on my breast.

A sharp, wet heat wrapped around my nipple, and my back arched before I even realized I was moving. His tongue swirled, teasing, testing, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak before sucking hard enough to send a jolt of pleasure straight to my core.

I whimpered, my hands fisting in his damp hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against my skin.

“Rowan,” I gasped, legs shifting beneath him, rubbing together in a desperate attempt to relieve the ache building between them.

He lifted his head, lips red, breath heavy. “You want more?”

The bastard knew the answer.

I didn’t get to say it. His hand was already sliding down my stomach, fingers tracing the waistband of my soaked shorts. He didn’t pull them off right away—just teased, fingertips barely dipping beneath the fabric, making me squirm.

I let out a frustrated breath. “Stop messing around.”

A smirk. Dark, wicked, unlike anything I remembered from before.

“Say please.”

I shot him a glare, but he didn’t budge. His fingers skimmed lower, pressing just enough to make me gasp, but not enough to give me what I needed.

Damn him.

“…Please.”

Rowan hummed approvingly, then hooked his fingers into the waistband and dragged my shorts down, taking my underwear with them. The cool air hit me, making me shiver, but the moment didn’t last—because then his fingers were there.

A slow, teasing stroke. Just once. Just enough to make my hips jerk.

“Fuck,” he murmured, voice rough, hungry. “You’re already so wet.”

I barely had time to breathe before his fingers pressed in deeper, sliding through the slick heat between my thighs, parting me with agonizing precision.

I bit back a moan, but he heard it anyway. Felt it, in the way my body reacted to him.

One finger dipped inside, slow and deliberate. Then another.

A gasp tore from my lips as he curled them just right, pressing against that spot that made my stomach clench, my thighs tremble. His thumb brushed against my clit, a light, teasing flick that sent a sharp pulse of pleasure through me.

I was unraveling too fast, body tightening, heat curling low in my stomach.

He felt it. He knew.

Rowan leaned down, lips brushing against my ear as his fingers worked me open. “Come for me.”

His voice was rough, commanding, the edge of something primal beneath it.

And fuck, I did.

My body arched, pleasure ripping through me like a live wire, white-hot and all-consuming. I gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as I came around his fingers, muscles clenching, legs shaking.

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t even slow down.

He swallowed my cries with a deep, hungry kiss, his tongue sliding against mine as his fingers kept moving, drawing out every last pulse of pleasure until I was nothing but trembling limbs and shattered breath.

Then he pulled back, his fingers slipping from me, glistening with my release. He held my gaze as he brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a slow, deliberate flick of his tongue.

My stomach tightened, heat flashing through me all over again.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

Rowan’s smirk deepened.

Then he was yanking off his shirt, tossing it aside before reaching for his belt. The sound of the buckle unfastening sent a thrill down my spine, anticipation curling hot and deep.

I licked my lips as he shoved his pants down, kicking them aside. My breath hitched at the sight of him—hard, thick, flushed with need.

He settled between my legs, gripping my thighs, spreading me open beneath him. The head of his cock brushed against my entrance, teasing, sending another sharp jolt of heat straight through me.

“Remi,” he rasped, his breath uneven. “Last chance to stop this.”

I met his gaze, heart pounding.

“I don’t want to stop.”

His jaw clenched.

Then—

He pushed in.

The stretch was slow, deep, inch by inch until he was fully seated inside me, filling me completely. My nails dug into his back, breath catching at the overwhelming sensation.

He groaned against my neck, his fingers gripping my hips like he was barely holding himself together. “Fuck, you feel—”

I didn’t let him finish.

I rocked my hips against his, urging him deeper, harder.

That was all it took.

He snapped.

Rowan moved, thrusting into me with a desperation that matched my own. The cave echoed with the sounds of our bodies meeting, the wet slide of skin on skin, the ragged gasps and moans that neither of us tried to suppress.

I clung to him, my body arching, meeting each of his thrusts with equal fervor. His hands were everywhere—gripping my hips, my waist, sliding up to cup my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers until I gasped.

His mouth was on me again—biting, sucking, leaving marks in places no one else would see.

And I wanted it.

Wanted all of it.

The pressure built fast, sharp and relentless, coiling low in my stomach, threatening to break.

I wasn’t ready for it.

Didn’t care.

“Rowan—” I gasped his name, my body tightening around him.

“Fuck,” he ground out. “Come with me.”

Then his fingers found my clit, rubbing in tight, precise circles, sending me over the edge so hard I nearly sobbed.

The orgasm ripped through me, shaking me to my core, my entire body clenching around him.

Rowan cursed, his rhythm faltering, and then he was coming too, his hips slamming into mine one last time as he spilled inside me with a low, broken groan.

For a long moment, neither of us moved.

Our breaths tangled, bodies trembling, the only sound between us the lingering echoes of what we had just done.

Then—slowly—he shifted, rolling onto his side, pulling me with him.

I curled into his chest, my heartbeat still erratic, my skin flushed, aching, al
ive.

Rowan exhaled, pressing a lazy kiss to my forehead.

“Fuck,” he murmured. “We’re in trouble, aren’t we?”

I swallowed, my fingers tracing lazy patterns against his chest.

“…Yeah.”

I…wasn't sure if I regretted it though.