#urdad

When Aelin invited Rowan to visit apartments with her again, she was expecting incisive views from a more experienced person, not incessant bitching that ended up being a pain in her ass.

She stomped down the hallway leading to her “office”—the medical equipment maintenance room—and Rowan followed hot on her heels, refusing to take the hint.

“I’m sorry,” he said for the millionth time. “I didn’t mean to—“

“Swear it.” She turned around and crossed her arms. “Swear on Anne Jausten that you didn’t act like this on purpose.”

He silently stood with a pleading look in his eye. Maybe because of the two nurses eyeing him curiously, or because he didn’t have anything good to say for himself.

What bugged Aelin the most is that she couldn’t understand why he was trying to sabotage her apartment hunting. Why would he bother to visit the places with her just to talk trash about them. Yes, she was well aware that those apartments weren’t near as nice as his fancy two-story home, but they were nice enough, especially when the deadline she was given to leave was so close.

Rowan had previously told her she could stay for ‘one or two weeks’, and in the meanwhile he fucked her numerous times. Aelin’s experience said it was time for her to go. Not that this kind of behavior applies to all men, but it does to most of them—especially the hot and chronically single ones, like Dr. Whitethorn.

Aelin unlocked her office—not quite, but it was a space for herself of sorts. The room was spacious and almost as well-lit as an OR, but it felt cramped from the amount of broken and old machines waiting for her to repair, along with a few lost causes the hospital had yet to discard. Rowan followed her inside, so she leaned against a broken anesthesia machine with crossed arms and said, “I have work to do. Are you explaining what happened or not?”

Rowan wrapped both arms around her waist and gave a string of pecks on her neck.

“Can’t we just forget about it?”

“No!” She immediately unwrapped herself from him. “You’re not touching me until you explain why the fuck you’re acting so weird!”

Rowan immediately took a step back, both hands up in surrender. Good to know. From what she’s heard, not all doctors in this hospital would.

“You’re serious?”

Aelin crossed her arms again and nodded.

A sigh. “I’m not lying to you. I really don’t like the apartments we’ve visited. I care about you and Fleetfoot, going from my place to that would be a huge downgrade.”

Aelin threw her head back and laughed. Loudly. His confused expression made her want to explain things, but the hilariously of this took all the breath from her lungs.

“Rowan, I won’t be able to afford a place like yours at all within the next 10 years.”

“That’s why you should stay with me. At least for now.”

That took the amusement out of her face. Aelin’s thoughts were blank as she examined his apprehensive pine green eyes. There was only one chair because no one ever visited her down there, so she sat while Rowan leaned on a machine near her.

“You’re serious? Like, roommates till a better rent do us part?”

Rowan tilted his head, waiting for her answer—confirmation enough for a quiet guy like him. Still, things weren’t looking good. She probably could afford half the cost of his place, but if she paid for all that, she would barely be able to afford food.

She finally answered, “The only way I can afford my part of the rent is if it’s split based on income.”

Rowan bit his bottom lip in a poor-piss attempt to not laugh, which earned him a slap on the bicep.

“Aelin, I don’t pay rent myself. I won’t ask that of you.”

He was offering her a home for free?

Aelin never doubted she was a good lay, but holy rutting Mala.

But this was too good to be true. “What about house chores?”

“Not your concern. Just look after yourself and Fleetfoot.”

Aelin got up from her chair, rounding Rowan with her eyes narrowed at him. This was too unreal. He had to have an ulterior motive.

“No sexual clauses?”

“Not at my request.” His eyes darkened and he added with a suggestive tone, “But I can be very compliant if you add one.”

A beep interrupted their conversation—she was needed her in the ER.

Knowing what the sound meant, Rowan raised both brows in question. What do you say?

“I still don’t know,” she said while putting her lab coat on.

This feels too good, too easy. Aelin would live as a guest in his house, for free, after hooking up for a week and a half. What it he gets bored of her? What happens to her when he regrets it? What if he changes his mind after his daughter finds out and inevitably throws a tantrum?

As if reading her thoughts, Rowan took a step closer, carefully tucked her hair behind her ear, caressed her jaw with his thumb before he murmured, “I just want to see you safe and taken care of, that’s all.”

Aelin closed her eyes, a little overwhelmed. He might be the most thoughtful situationship she’s ever had. She tucked her head on his chest and chuckled, and he pulled her closer, letting her feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he caressed her hair.

Rowan slipped a strand of Aelin’s hair behind her ear, his carefree expression morphed into something else. “Will you at least think about it?”

Aelin tried to plaster a earnest face, but the corners of her lips kept tugging up. “You won’t make this easy for me, will you?”

His eyes widened. “I’m already making this as easy as I can!”

Another call urging her to go to the ER broke them apart.

Aelin took a step back and squeezed his hand. “See you at dinner?”

“See you at dinner.”

It was hard to stop her mind from racing as she took the elevator to the ER. Rowan’s offer got more tempting each time she thought about it and, to be honest, Aelin didn’t want to stop the late-night sex followed by morning cuddles either, even if she knew this wouldn’t be permanent.

It’d be good. She could save some money for her masters while staying with him. Aelin knew her place, so falling in love with Dr. Whitethorn was nothing more than a fleeting thought in her mental ‘cons’ list about living with him.

˜˜

Aelin expected to give him her final answer over dinner like any other person does, but when he texted her saying he’d be late because he was needed on a late surgery, the idea she had was too good to pass on.

The sound of his car pulling up made her put her phone down and run to the kitchen, wearing nothing but his favorite apron.

Aelin sat on the dinner table between two trays: one with freshly-cut fruit—strawberries, mango, banana, cherries—and another with little bowls of more liquid stuff, such as honey and chocolate sauce.

The thud of the front door being shut. Slow footsteps. Her heartbeat being the loudest of them all.

“Baby…” Rowan carefully stepped into the kitchen, still with his scrubs on, bewildered eyes aflame as he studied her mostly naked body. “What’re you doing?”

“Accepting your offer.” Aelin crossed her legs and tilted her head in a saucy, near predatory manner while still keeping an innocent tone when she explained, “You said you want me to stay. I thought I’d earn my keep.”

“You know you don’t have to—“

Rowan cut himself off when Aelin slid just the top of his apron off her body, exposing her breasts.

He cleared his throat and corrected, “How so?”

Aelin gave him a sly grin, a little brownie point for playing along.

“Dinner.”

She thrust her chest out and suggestively dipped her middle finger in the bowl with the honey, eyes trained on him as she slid it from her upper chest to her shoulder.

And waited until Rowan’s brain restarted so he could lick it off.

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Aelin had to spend some extra energy she didn’t have to keep her legs from swaying. Her muscles were sore, more strained than any gym could make her feel, especially if she considered how tender she was between the thighs as well.

She went back to her bedroom to get a change of clothes and check on Fleetfoot, but her mind hadn’t left Rowan’s bed. The last 24 hours consisted of sex. And naps. And more sex. Eating leftovers of the barbecue with her dog. More sex. Again. Once more. Sleep. Morning sex—

Rowan trapped her against the hallway wall, making her squeal.

“What’re you doing?” Aelin’s head lolled against the wall as he untied her robe, his mouth on her neck. “I left your bed five minutes ago.”

“Too long,” Rowan grunted, grumpy enough to make her laugh.

Aelin pulled his face to her with both hands, and despite the urgency in which he trapped her on the wall, Rowan’s kiss was long and sweet. His teeth and tongue played with her lips when he wasn’t kissing her in tender and heated flicks.

But if his affectionate caresses were making her knees even weaker, she wasn’t ready for when he pinned her wrists above her head, against the wall.

Rowan kissed her collarbone, neck and jaw before whispering in her ear, “I can stop if you’re too tired.”

From under her lids, Aelin analyzed his eager yet careful eyes. How that brilliant mind of his might be planning to have his way with her. Was she tired? Yes. But too tired?

She arched her back, trying to shove their hips together since her wrists were still pinned. “C’mere.”

When Aelin thought his hands were freeing her, he just let her loose for half a second before gripping her waist as if it was his lifeline, Rowan’s hands sneaking under her robe.

His lips were halfway to her neck when Aelin redirected it to her mouth. Their kiss was long and thorough, Rowan taking everything from her while he clutched the shape of her, squeezed her ass and made her tingle all over.

His hand met her pussy, and he groaned at the wetness he found.

“Fuck,” Rowan said under his breath, his fingers sliding inside her with impressive ease. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“You’re insatiable, Doctor.” Aelin’s tone was hoarse and silky. “I didn’t know you were like this.”

“I didn’t either,” he murmured against her jaw before kissing, gripping, curling his fingers inside her and making her eyes roll.

Aelin took his cock in her hand and watched him roughen up his caresses with each pump.

She took a peak at the hallway they were at. The best place here to fuck would be the wall, or maybe…

Aelin took his hand, interrupting their hookup session to lead him to the stairs.

“You wanna fuck downstairs, baby?” Rowan whispered in her ear from behind, his breath against her ear and his hands on her hips being too much to handle.

Too far. Aelin was too horny to talk properly, but the couch was too far. So was the bedroom.

After descending a little, she stopped him in the large landing between the two sets of stairs. She took off her half-opened robe, letting it pool by her feet. Aelin got down on her knees before him, watching Rowan’s confused frown before she turned around to face the stairs.

Fuck, baby were his only words before he kneeled behind her and pushed his cock inside her, every part of it spreading her open for him.

Aelin moaned, holding herself upright by holding a step of the stairs, her knees too weak.

His pace was hungry, Rowan held her hip with one hand, this thumb grazing the top of her ass, and himself with the other, needing to hold on to the stairs if he was as wrecked as she did.

The apex of Aelin’s thighs were on fire, that burning feeling spreading through her limbs. But she still pushed against his thrusts, demanding as much as he could give her, even if she could barely take it herself.

Rowan’s grip on her tightened, and after one particularly merciless roll of his hips, she lost her balance, stumbling off her position.

He immediately stopped to check on Aelin, caressing her hair as he waited for her.

“You okay, baby?” he asked between pants.

The look Aelin sent him over her shoulder was nothing short of wicked. She purred, “Yes, Daddy.”

His eyes darkened, something sparking behind them as he took her in, all in fours for him and ready for more.

He slapped her ass, hard enough to sting.

“What did you say?”

“I—“

Rowan slammed his cock into her, making her lean against the stairs before her and cry out. Without easing his pace, he grabbed a fistful of Aelin’s hair

“What did you call me, baby?”

She had no idea where that pet name came from, but now that he seemed to be into it…

“Your cock is so big, Daddy, it tears me apart when you—“ He pounded into her, turning what she was saying into incomprehensible, strangled noises. “Yes,” she whimpered, “like that.”

“Yeah? How about—“

He sneaked his hand between her legs, pressing her clit. His rhythmic circles there added to his cock filling her in was too much. Aelin’s limbs were weak, all her blood rushing to her loins, and she moaned his name, very close to falling limp on those stairs.

Rowan’s hips stuttered, and the little more pressure he added on her clit made her go over the edge. Aelin clenched around him, knees buckling as her vision blurred, overwhelmed with sensation. He didn’t look much better, and they were both holding on to each other and to that damned staircase, calling each other’s names as they got through the peak together.

After he pulled out, Aelin sat on the bottom of that set of stairs, leaning on the steps with her elbows. Her breath was still erratic when Rowan sat her on his lap and nestled her on his bigger frame.

“My clothes are cleaner,” he explained why he put her over himself instead of the floor, even if his house was tidy. As if she needed a reason to sit on his lap after being fucked like that, repeatedly.

“I have a complaint.” Aelin bit back a mischievous grin while she watched his face grow concerned. “You have your clothes on.”

Rowan’s features relaxed, and he took his t-shirt off to give it to her. “We’re even now.”

The only real complaint she had is that she lost sight of his abs the second his cotton shirt crossed her sight, as she put it on. Truth was, Aelin knew exactly why he didn’t take any of his clothes off. He was too caught up in the moment to do it, and the only reason she took hers off was for that little show in this stairway.

Rowan was awfully silent, just staring at her in a way she’d just found out he’d do sometimes after an orgasm.

She leaned on his torso, running the tip of her finger on the bridge of his nose. “What’re you thinking?”

Rowan startled, realizing just now that he’d tuned out, and his lips tugged in a playful way that was different from his previous vacant look. “Of all parts of my house, I never thought we’d take my stairs’ virginity.”

She chuckled. “That was a first for me too.”

Rowan’s steady breaths were a balm to her soul, just as soothing as his pine smell and bare walls. Aelin used to criticize rich people who had nothing but neutral colors in their home, but she liked his house—especially the green pops of color, even if she’d still put more plants or colorful pillows. Fleetfoot loved it here too, mostly because of the garden and the pool—

Rowan cleared his throat. “But there’s this other thing I was thinking about.”

“Tell me.”

“What’re you doing tomorrow on your lunch break?”

“Why?” Aelin’s gaze roamed over his eager expression with alert eyes, the reddened cheeks framing his nervous close-lipped smile, and she knew exactly what he wanted. She shifted on his lap, straddling him now. “Why do you need me at work, Doctor?” She ran both hands over his chest, sending him a heated look from under her lashes as she said in a sultry tone, “You want to traumatize Anne Jausten?”

He swallowed, his thumb playing with the hem of her—his—shirt. “No, I want to have lunch with you.”

Aelin went rigid on top of him, blinking. “As in a lunch date?”

His mouth opened. And closed. Rowan nodded, his eyes intent on hers.

“I’d love to,” Aelin said around a grin wide enough to release the tension on his shoulders.

“Good.” Rowan showered her neck and jaw with quick pecks. “Good, I—“

“But it can’t be tomorrow.” She grimaced, just now remembering her scheduled appointment. “I have an apartment tour.”

His face fell. “So soon?”

Aelin wasn’t sure if he meant it as a question, so she decided to take it as one.

“Yes, because I’m homeless.” Rowan frowned, making her grin while she rubbed off the crease between his eyebrows. “And your deadline was one or two weeks, remember?”

“I… deadline?” He blinked. “I didn’t mean it literally, Aelin. I’m not kicking you out in eleven days.”

“I know you won’t, but I still need a home.”

“Alright, then.” He pushed back his shoulders, something shifting in his mind as his gaze levered hers. “Let’s see this apartment.”

She leaned away to carefully scan his face, trying to understand him. “You want to see the apartment with me?”

“Why not?” He shrugged. “It’ll be fun.”

˜˜

“I hate this,” Rowan protested once more, “it’s unacceptable.”

“Can you explain your new concerns to me, Mr. Whitethorn?” The real estate agent’s tone was way too neutral, her smile way too strained.

The poor woman. Rowan was wearing her thin with his million complaints about her potential future house.

He gave the woman a surprised glare, as if he couldn’t believe she wasn’t seeing the same thing as he. “Why are these walls so yellow? It hurts my eyes.”

“It was inspired by a viral kitchen on Pinterest, sir.”

Rowan gave her a bored look. “It’s tacky.” He pointed at a small crack in the wall, between the counter and the wall cabinet. “And what about that? Are the cracks cosmetic, or does the building have structural damage?”

After giving a quick reassurance that she didn’t know about any structural issues, the agent excused herself. Good for her, since Aelin didn’t know what was going on with Rowan today.

The apartment wasn’t half as nice as his two-story house, but it was the closest from the hospital she could afford. It was a small, nice-enough middle-class place for a single, middle-class girl.

Aelin tugged on Rowan’s hand and stood on her tiptoes to whisper, “Take off your pants.”

His eyes bulged. “Here?”

“Well, I have to do something about this bug up your ass.”

Rowan crossed his arms, unimpressed by her snark. “If I have a bug up my ass, it must be because this apartment has bug issues.”

The slap on his bicep was gentle, but Aelin’s face was not.

He gaped. “The apartment is terrible, and I’m the one in the wrong?”

“It’s a perfectly good apartment!”

“The floors are too creaky!” He made his point by walking around and stepping multiple times on the creaks he found. “Do you think Fleetfoot is gonna like to run here? Can she even run in a place this small?” He dragged her by the hand to a window. “You see this alley?”

It was right under her window, even though the front of the building was on a bigger street. In fact, the alley was between two larger streets, and a big part of it was just the sides of bigger buildings that faced the main streets.

“What about it?”

“It’s the kind of place thiefs run to after mugging women like you. For all I know, there could be a crack house by the end of this alley.”

She crossed her arms. “A crack house? Seriously?”

Rowan shrugged. “Have you seen Mistward’s crack rates?”

“Have you seen Mistward’s crack rates?”

He squinted his eyes. “I don’t like this house.”

Aelin took a peak around the apartment. It wasn’t ideal, but it was as good as she could get given the time she had. But yesterday Rowan said there was no urgency at all, which meant Aelin had until he got tired of her.

And he was right about Fleetfoot, too. The house wasn’t ideal for her, the neighborhood wasn’t safe enough to walk her at night, and no thief would be scared of a friendly little mutt that looked like a golden retriever.

Imogen never mentioned anything about her father having girlfriends, which probably means Rowan gets bored of women easily. If Aelin played her cards right, she could even double her amount of weeks with him, finding a better place to move out in the meantime.

“Fine.” She pointed a finger at him. “But if you keep this up, I’m not bringing you to the next tour tomorrow.”

Rowan’s eyes widened. “Tomorrow?”

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Aelin was acting so naturally Rowan could think this was an everyday thing for her.

It kind of was, to be honest. Aelin was just your regular hot girl in her tiniest bikini, reading her Kindle while lying sideways by the pool, in a lounge chair. Everything was perfectly fine, if Aelin ignored the fact that she couldn’t breathe, since she was trying to hide the lower belly pouch her bikini was outing.

Yesterday’s promises of seeing each other at dinner didn’t happen, since Rowan stayed until late at the hospital for a surgery, assisting the oncologist with some tissue analysis. But now it was Saturday, he was making barbecue, and she had an entire day to work on her seduction plans.

“Do dogs eat raw meat?” Rowan asked from the grill.

Aelin had a joke about her not being the vet, but let it die on the back of her mind. Imogen was the only vet they knew, the traitorous bitch she used to call a best friend. She didn’t deserve to be mentioned on barbecue day.

“Fleetfoot doesn’t,” Aelin replied instead.

“Huh.” Rowan frowned at the dog. “I think she wants some.”

Indeed, Fleetfoot was sitting by Rowan’s foot, her tongue out while she flailed her golden tail. The smooth fucker.

“She’s not asking yet, she’s just being cute to prepare you for when she actually asks for it. Like when a kid does the dishes before asking the parents to go out.”

Rowan opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head, focusing back on the grill. She wanted to ask what he was thinking about, but stayed silent with the possibility of it being something about his own kid.

Aelin was bitter, but it was understandable if Rowan didn’t want to get involved in that fight. Even if his daughter is a two-faced liar who slept with Aelin’s loser boyfriend—now ex.

Rowan pointed at her with his chin. “What’re you reading?”

Aelin’s cheeks heated, so she hid her face behind the Kindle. “A book.”

“What book, Aelin?” he asked in a playful tone while sauntering her way.

“Um.” She cleared her throat. “The Knight’s Sword.”

He stopped by her side and raised his eyebrows, looking surprised by her answer. “That sounds nice. Is it action?”

“It does have a lot of action, yes.”

“Are you liking it?” Rowan picked his phone up. “I can’t remember the last time I read something that wasn’t about work.”

“No!” Aelin blurted, her heartbeat racing.

“What?”

“The sword is a metaphor! Not in the whole book, but—“

“A metaphor indeed.” Rowan’s eyebrows went higher than she’d like. “This armor from the cover doesn’t look safe, by the way. The knight’s abs aren’t even covered.”

“Dr. Whitethorn.” She held her chin up, despite the embarrassment. “Do you have something against my half-naked knight or the use of his metaphorical sword?”

“Not at all.” He held both hands up, then sat on the lounge chair next to hers. “So…” he trailed. “Knights, huh? That’s your thing?”

“It’s fun to read, but not my thing.” She leaned back on the chair and bit back a smirk. “I like doctors better.”

“Yeah?” Rowan straightened his posture, his carefully casual expression barely hiding his attentive, eager eyes. “Tell me about it.”

“Why are you so interested in my reading habits, Dr. Whitethorn?”

Rowan’s mouth was ajar as his eyes scanned her exposed body, and—

“ROWIE!” a familiar voice shouted from the side of the house. “Did you get a dog?”

Aelin froze. As far as she knew, there was just one person in the world who called the ever-so-serious Dr. Whitethorn ‘Rowie’. He muttered something to the sky, then turned to Dr. Moonbeam’s approaching figure, holding a very heavy Fleetfoot like she was a baby.

”This yours?” He wiggled the overjoyed dog in his arms.

Aelin waved. “Mine, actually.”

Fenrys’ face snapped towards her, his mouth opened in surprise for a second before it turned into a smirk. “Look who’s here!” He tilted his head at Rowan. “I didn’t know you were throwing a party.”

The owner of the house pinched the bridge of his nose. “Neither did I.”

After putting Fleetfoot back on the floor, Fenrys handed Rowan two supermarket plastic bags. “I brought salad!”

Aelin burst a laugh into her hand, but Rowan just stood there, looking at his friend as if he couldn’t believe this was real. “Do you call a bunch of packed, unwashed ingredients, a salad?”

“Chop chop, cook boy!” Aelin called, her eyes glued back on her smutty book.

He shrugged. “I can do that.”

“No!” Rowan blurted with a finger up, “You’re not getting anywhere near my kitchen knives.”

Fenrys’ jaw went slack. “I’m literally a surgeon!”

“Good for you,” the unwilling host called on his way back inside the house. “My kitchen isn’t your OR.”

When Rowan was out of view, she relaxed back in the lounge chair, letting her little pouch out. She’d never underestimate again how good it feels to breathe.

Aelin noticed Fenrys’ curious gaze on her, so she squinted her eyes at him and said, “Do you always visit people without letting the owner of the house know you’re coming?”

What she really wanted to ask him: Do you always crash into other people’s seduction plans? Do you delight in possibly cockblocking your best friend?

“I don’t need to announce myself to the ‘owner of the house,’” Fenrys said around an air quote. “Rowan should be glad he has some company that isn’t biopsy samples or Mora, the Microscope.” He narrowed his eyes on her. “And you, apparently. What are you doing here?”

“I’m trying to seduce the owner of the house,” she hissed through her teeth, arms crossed. “and you’re ruining it.”

“Gods, Aelin.” Fenrys tilted his head in mock confusion, not hiding his smirk. “I didn’t know the rent prices were that bad.”

Aelin shrugged and casually mentioned, ”I became homeless after the person I lived with cheated on me with the person I was going to live with.” She sighed, feigning nonchalance. “So I announced my body in the Doctors’ notice board and moved in with the one with the biggest pool.”

“What? When was it?” Fenrys glanced at the backyard and threw his hands up. “I demand a review of this decision, my pool is bigger than his!”

“Request denied.” Aelin picked on her nails, trying really hard to not laugh. “Fleetfoot’s already settled, and she doesn’t like the moving fuss.”

Fenrys slowly shook his head. “So you chose the doctor you have to work so hard to seduce it made you gave up on breathing, and not the one who’s been hitting on you for months?” his tone was playful despite his words, Fenrys’ trademark smirk on.

Aelin gasped, and she was ready to defend herself, but was interrupted by a sizzling sound coming from the grill.

Rowan was retrieving the meat and placing it on a tray, his movements sharps as he frowned at the barbecue as if it’d offended him. How in hell did they not see him coming back from the house?

If Fenrys was worried about how much Rowan heard of their conversation, he didn’t show. Instead, he was telling all the juicy gossip about the hospital’s love quadrangle, and how all four of them ended up in HR.

Aelin just stayed there, nodding and asking questions about it, ignoring the fact that Rowan had shut down after maybe listening to that conversation. He only talked with them through noncommittal grunts while answering someone, but the barbecue was delicious, its charred scent filling her senses, and the sun was burning through her UV-protected skin. This was all she needed, not some weird grumpiness of a man who she’d already been clear with about how she felt.

Fleetfoot didn’t mind it, though, as long as Rowan—everyone, actually—kept giving her meat. The dog ate like there was no tomorrow, then napped by Aelin’s foot for a few minutes and jumped in the water.

“Fleetfoot!” she called, hurrying to the edge of the pool. “Come back here right now!”

That stubborn dog purposefully swam away from her.

”It’s fine,” said Rowan, despite his grumpiness today.

Aelin gave him a pointed look. “Your pool is going to be filled with dog hair.”

He waved her off. “The pool guy will come to clean it either way. At least someone’s using it in the meantime.”

Fenrys grabbed Fleetfoot’s tennis ball and tossed it into the pool. “Go get it, girl!”

When her dog swam to retrieve the ball, as happy as she could be, Aelin’s shoulders dropped in resignation. “Fine,” she relented, “but I’ll get a towel so she doesn’t wet the rest of the house.”

Aelin had been here for just two days, so she didn’t know where the towels were, but she did know Rowan kept some neatly folded ones in the guest bathroom. She stopped in the hallway, uncertain. Would he be okay with her using expensive-looking towels with the dog? He didn’t exactly give her rules about Fleetfoot—

Before she knew it, Aelin was being pulled by the arm and pressed up against the wall.

Fucking finally, she thought as she took Rowan in, caging her body with both forearms against the wall and hovering over her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he said in a low, authoritative tone.

Forcing out a carefully innocent tone, Aelin asked, “What do you mean?”

Rowan just scanned her half-naked body and cocked his head at her, and right then, something about his forest-green eyes looked dangerously close to combustion.

Aelin bit her lip, toying with the ends of her hair. “Never seen a bikini, Doctor?”

“You and Fenrys seemed awfully close today,” he grunted, changing the subject. “And however long he’s been hitting on you, I’ve wanted you longer.”

“Yeah?” Those words and their gush of air against her skin sent a long shiver through her spine, spreading to her tingling limbs. “Does that mean you’ll fuck me tonight, Doctor?”

He touched their foreheads, his breath ragged. “Are you sure? You know I’m—“

“Shh.” Aelin caressed his cheek with her thumb, their breaths mingling. “We can deal with her,” she said, knowing Rowan was aware she meant his daughter. “And guys my age never touched me like you do,” Aelin whispered, “I don’t think they could.”

Then he grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her. His lips were exploratory as he pried hers open, and Aelin melted into his touch, tangling herself in his arms and letting his tongue do whatever he wanted to.

She was out of breath and out of mind, massaging his tongue with hers and pressing their chests in search of any sort of friction. Aelin wasn’t, in any way, ready for when he broke the kiss.

Rowan was panting, their foreheads joined as he gripped her bare waist with both hands. “I should get rid of Fenrys.”

“Killjoy,” Aelin taunted, breathlessly chuckling against his lips. “He’d love to join.”

His firm touch turned into a pinch on her side. “Let’s see if I can find some good use for that tongue of yours.”

Aelin squealed from the attack, stepping away, and stood taller now that she was distant enough for him to fully look at her body.

Rowan leaned one arm against the wall, looked at her up and down and said in a low, raspy tone, “And if you’re trying to impress me, I like my women better when they’re able to breathe.”

“Noted,” Aelin said, her face heating on the spot as she relaxed her lower belly.

When he left to the backyard again, she went looking for his bedroom. Aelin hadn’t entered it before, but at least she knew where it was. He kept it all in earthy tones, with white walls, dark wood furniture and touches of green. The only bright colors were from his books, and she was almost sure Rowan was the only person to keep literature about bacteria in his room the same way normal people did with fiction books.

The sound of footsteps down the hallway made her sit on the side of his bed, thrusting her chest out and supporting herself with one arm.

“Hello, Doctor,” she purred when he walked in.

Rowan’s eyes darkened, and he strolled her way with powerful, purposeful steps. Instead of leaning in to kiss him, Aelin lied on the bed, luring him to join her.

“You look so pretty all spread out in my bed.”

“Do I?” She toyed with the string of her bikini top, teasing him further with a suggestive grin.

That was enough to make him stop looking and close their distance, kissing her mouth with a lot more hunger than he did before. He was crushing their bodies together, his hands going a further than her waist and neck. Aelin squirmed against him, her knees weak and her hips on fire as he played with her lips, kissed her neck, then went back to her mouth again.

Rowan’s hand that was cupping her breast put the bikini top aside for him to lick, nibble, flick his tongue against her breasts.

“Fuck,” Aelin moaned, untying the string of her two-piece and wrapping her legs around him, desperate for any type of friction.

Rowan stumbled away to get his clothes off, but she followed to help him undress. With no small amount of appreciation, she took his t-shirt off and slid her palms against his sculpted torso. Her hands went up, before she slid them further down and yanked his trunks and underwear down at the same time.

“Oh, Doctor,” she breathed with parted lips at the sight of his hard, bulging cock.

Aelin stroked it once, twice, before Rowan took her chin and commanded, “Your turn.”

She took a step back, untied the other string and threw her bikini top on the floor, every one of her moves intentionally provocative. Rowan’s eyes betrayed every thought going through his head as they roamed through her mostly naked body, then stopped on her heavy breasts, his hands going up and down with lazy movements around his cock.

“All of it,” he added.

Aelin turned around, and with her back to him, she bent a lot more than necessary to take out her panties. But before she finished, Rowan picked her up and threw her back on the bed, making her squeal with surprise.

“You brute!” she complained while getting the panties off her ankles. Gods, he didn’t even let her finish the little show.

Rowan was hovering over her, his face unyielding as he grasped her chin and said, “You’re going to sit on my face.”

All of Aelin’s breath left her chest, and now she was nothing but the burning sensation spreading from her hips, taking over her whole body. She flipped them around and sat on him, but not in the way he suggested. Instead, she decided to face the other way, giving her enough leverage to suck him while he did the same to her.

He slapped her ass in approval and mouthed her pussy. Aelin let out a long moan when he first licked her clit, writhing herself against his face. But then she licked the tip of his cock, making him grip her hips harder as she flooded him with sensation as well.

Everything he gave her, she gave back. It was like a game, teasing around each other’s pleasure. Aelin took him deep into her throat, making him hiss and lose his focus on her, then he’d plunge a finger inside her while working on her clit. If it made her stop to moan, or she countered and groaned around his cock, giving him an extra layer of sensation, he’d win either way.

That is, until Rowan added another finger and added extra pressure to her already swollen clit, sending Aelin over the edge. Aelin’s gut tightened and her legs shook around his face, all while her vision blurred and she took his cock out of her mouth to moan his name.

She fell like a cartoon by Rowan’s side once her climax was over. “Just give me a second.”

“Any time you want.”

He wrapped his arms around her, taking her lips again and making her taste herself in his mouth. The kiss was warm and long, but Aelin pulled him on top of her before it got too long.

Rowan put a condom on and, hovering above her, took a strand of hair off her face. “Are you sure?”

Aelin grabbed his hair, forcing him to look at her. “For the millionth time, yes. Seriously, what does it take to get fucked around here—“

He thrust into her before she could finish the sentence, turning it into strangled gasps as Rowan stretched her whole.

“You alright over there?” he asked when she was filled all the way in.

Aelin’s breath was ragged, but she still found enough strength to tease him. “You think I can’t take you?”

Rowan’s eyes sparkled, and he started slow and deep, fucking her as if he had the whole day to use her. Probably because he had. It wasn’t her preferred pace, but it was really good. Aelin’s pleasure was slowly building, and she was arching her back to meet him deeper.

“Got yourself settled, baby?”

She hummed, holding back a lazy moan with her eyes closed, savoring the moment.

“Good.”

Then he plunged into her, turning their lazy pace into a hungry, merciless rhythm. Aelin cried out, her nerves on fire while she clutched his back and writhed her hips against his. As if this wasn’t enough, Rowan spread her legs, putting them up in a V-position over his shoulders and changing their angle enough to make her scream.

He was panting on top of her, but still said, “No sass now?”

The closest thing to a response Aelin managed was a string of curses. He was spreading her open in every sense of the word, and she was shamelessly pushing against his thrusts, her legs trembling near her head. Aelin’s muscles were tight, her skin burning and prickling with nothing but lust as she moaned and writhed and screamed his name each plunge.

She felt her peak coming, and Aelin clenched around Rowan’s cock, making him roll his eyes with pleasure and curse. They both lost composure, his hips stuttering as she went still and felt shockwaves gripping her body, moaning and holding onto each other as they were pushed over the edge.

Rowan fell by her side, then held her after disposing the condom.

“You alright?” he asked, searching for every cue in Aelin’s eyes.

“Perfect.” Her face was nothing but post-orgasm bliss. “Do you mind if I take a nap?”

What could she say? Rowan said he’d have his way with her, and he did so bad she was about to pass out in his bed, in the best way possible.

“Please do.”

“Okay.” She closed her eyes and opened them again. “You can wake me up in, like, 10 minutes for round two.”

Rowan chuckled, hugging her closer. “You know I won’t.”

She lifted her head to squint her eyes at him. “I’m serious. If not for sex, I need to wake up so my dog doesn’t starve to death.”

“If I had to come up with possible causes of death for Fleetfoot, starvation is be the last one I’d consider.”

Aelin gasped. “Are you calling me a bad mother?”

“Shh.” Rowan kissed her forehead. “I thought you wanted to sleep.”

You can get notified when I update by either turning notifications on for @backtobl4ck-fics or entering my (sometimes glitchy) tag list!!

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I couldn’t tag the people in bold, sorry!

@aelinchocolatelover

@autumnbabylon

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@courtofjurdan

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@swankii-art-teacher

@thegreyj

@violet-mermaid7

“How‘s the baby?” Dr. Moonbeam asked in the examination table as Aelin slid the ultrasound transducer over his abs. She was still figuring out if he was flexing them to look stronger, or to make her work harder by hardening the area she had to move the probe on.

Aelin was “examining” Dr. Moonbeam just to check if she’d fixed the glitch in his ultrasound machine, but of course he’d have a field day with it.

“Very funny,” she answered with the dullest face possible, and then gasped. “Is that a kidney stone?”

“WHAT?” He bolted upright and took the probe from Aelin’s hand, pressing it harder against him, but relaxed when he studied the monitor. “You’re evil.”

Aelin tilted her head back, cackling.

Being the engineer responsible for Mistward General’s very expensive machinery, Aelin was glad she was out of the hospital’s crazy hierarchy. She didn’t take orders from any doctors, which let her be more at ease around them, unlike most of the staff.

Even if some were shameless flirts.

“So…” Dr. Moonbeam called her attention, slowly sliding the paper towels against his abs that looked shinier because of the gel. But his eyes had this playful glint because, at this point, he knew she was immune to his moves. “When are you breaking up with that tool of yours?”

“In two weeks, actually.”

His eyes widened. “You’re joking, right?”

Aelin looked away and checked the ultrasound just to have something to do with her hands. “I already paid this month’s rent, so I’m waiting a little before breaking things up and moving out.”

She wasn’t in a rush, but it was time. Chaol hasn’t been the same. Aelin hadn’t felt the same about him either. When she went to her best friend to talk about this, Imogen was very supportive and offered her spare room.

Imogen Whitethorn wasn’t Chaol’s biggest fan, to put it lightly.

Dr. Moonbeam had his arms crossed, head cocked with a shameless grin. “No need to go through that, Galathynius. You can stay with me those two weeks.”

Aelin snorted, slowly shaking her head. “You’d love that, huh?”

Before he could answer, she felt her phone vibrating against her pocket and took it to check.

Dr Whitethorn: Aelin

Dr Whitethorn: 911

Dr Whitethorn: Anne Jausten is acting out

And by that, he meant there was something wrong with his new digital slide scanner.

“Gotta go.” She gave Dr. Moonbeam a quick salute. “Good luck with the pregnant ladies.”

Aelin rushed to the Pathology lab, which was pretty much the standard. There was always someone running or yelling in these halls. As busy as she was today, she always made room so assisting Dr. Whitethorn was always on her top priorities. He was the one who got her this job, after all.

After Aelin accidentally met Imogen’s father while drunk after a college party, he disregarded her for years. She was convinced he hated her and thought she was a bad influence, but working here slowly changed her mind. Or his, she’d never know.

One night, Imogen commented to Dr. Whitethorn over the phone that Aelin’s boss was too handsy.

The next day, Mistward General’s HR called her offering an interview.

His shoulders dropped when she came in. “Oh, good. It’s not scanning.”

Oh boy, did her breathing just get a little faster? Aelin would not, under any circumstance, show how much the scrubs, reading glasses and frazzled gray hair combo did it for her.

She always had a thing for men in lab coats, but Dr. Whitethorn was on a whole new level.

When Aelin rushed inside the cold Pathology lab, he immediately got up to give her his chair and bring another one for himself.

She clamped her lips together after assessing what was going on, trying not to make him feel bad.

“You can laugh, you know.”

“I won’t.” Despite her words, Aelin’s shoulders were quaking, a full laughter ready to burst. “But you’re too young to be this old.”

He sighed. “What did I do this time?”

Aelin tilted her head, biting her lip. “You forgot to adjust a few scan settings. It won’t start until you do.”

He groaned, resting his face on his hands. This time, she let out the tiniest giggle.

Dr. Whitethorn was so excited when he got his new, more modern equipment—until he had to learn how to work with them, that is. Watching him get used to those was like watching elder millennials in the genesis of TikTok.

Resilient as he was, he got his chin up, squared his shoulders, and tapped the few buttons he missed out in the first place.

“Well, thanks for that. And sorry I wasted your time.”

Aelin waved him off and rested her head on a fist, not caring about the few strands of hair falling on her face. “Nonsense.”

He trained his eyes on the scan. “I can go on from here.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Do you remember how to use the new photo editor?”

He used his right to remain silent.

Aelin leaned back on her seat, getting comfortable with both hands behind her neck. “Then I guess I need to wait for these scans to be done.”

Dr. Whitethorn was like that. He'd listen to her talk about anything and everything, from tissue engineering to Taylor Swift tickets, then flip a switch and politely shut her off until she made her way back into his lab again. Rinse and repeat. Right now, he wasn’t too chit-chatty, but she’d crack him in no time.

Aelin stayed there, watching his Adam’s apple bob as they listened to the soothing hum of Anne Jausten, the scanner.

“Fleetfoot and I are moving in with Immie soon, but I’m sure you know that already.”

His gaze slid to hers. “I know where you’re going.”

She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “My point is already proven, I’m just being annoying about it.”

“I’m not a gossip, I’m just a good listener.”

“Well, did you, or did you not know that already?”

He gave her a flat look. “Next time you’re looking for a boyfriend, at least get one who doesn’t forget his wallet on date night.”

“Ouch!” She clutched her chest, playing down the tightness in it. “Way to go, doc.”

“Sorry.” He grimaced. “That was insensitive of me.”

Aelin waved him off. “That breakup was overdue, anyway.”

“I think so, too.” His lab’s phone started ringing. Dr. Whitethorn got up to take it, but not before saying, “You deserve to raise your standards.”

Easier said than done. If she had a pass for every man in the world, Aelin would know exactly where to start.

People would think it was the sixteen-year age gap, but the only thing stopping her from taking a chance and trying to sit on Dr. Whitethorn's lap right now was her best friend, who happens to be his daughter. With him looking like that, Aelin wouldn't mind if he was 300 years old.

Every time she saw a legion of girls online losing their minds over some older actor who aged like fine wine, she felt a little relieved they didn’t know Dr. Whitethorn. She could appreciate the view alone.

He looked pale when the phone call ended. “It was Salvaterre. Imogen just got here in an ambulance.”

“What?” Aelin jerked upright, feeling her pulse stronger each beat. “What happened?”

”I don’t know, I—" He pointed to the scanner. “Keep an eye on Anne. I’ll go to the ER and keep you posted.”

Aelin did as she was asked and stayed there, feeling her throat get tighter as the AC’s dry gushes of air cut through her layers of clothing. She didn’t know for how long she did nothing but listen to Anne Jausten’s mechanical whirring, but she did notice she was quieter than Jane Austen, Dr. Whitethorn’s previous slide scanner. It was an obvious observation, since Anne was cutting-edge technology, but Aelin would rather think of the equipment than the fact that her best friend and soon-to-be roommate was in the ER right now.

Her heart almost leaped out of her throat when his text came.

Dr Whitethorn: I think you should come here.

The few minutes she sprinted there were a blur. The nurses’ carts were on her way, the elevator was too slow, there were confused people on her way. The only thing that felt fast was her pulse, thrumming blood through her tense muscles.

Aelin relaxed when she noticed Immie looked fine, despite her friend’s blotched face from crying. Dr. Whitethorn’s face was red as well, but he wasn’t crying like his daughter. He was fuming, to put it lightly. And in the hospital bed, she saw… Chaol?

“What’s going on?”

Dr. Whitethorn was the one to break the deafening silence. “We have a penile fracture here.”

No.

Aelin looked around, taking everyone in once again and processing this new information.

Her heart stopped in her chest as her senses seemed to betray her.

There was no fucking way.

“YOU BROKE MY BOYFRIEND’S DICK?” Aelin’s voice boomed through the room.

Imogen’s lips wobbled. “Aelin, I’m so—“

"Sorry, yeah." She let out a bitter cackle and yanked off Chaol's blanket. His dick looked exactly like an eggplant.

"Babe," he slurred, grinning at her. He must be high on painkillers already to look clueless like that.

"You fucking slut!" She shouted at Chaol and pinched his swollen penis, twisting the purple, hypersensitive skin between her fingers.

No amount of painkillers could stop the earth-shattering scream Chaol let out, loud enough to tear anyone's eardrums in half.

For the very first time, she saw Dr. Whitethorn flinch.

The curtain separating them from the rest of the ER was yanked open to reveal a very pissed Chief Salvaterre. And he caught her with a hand on the patient’s dick, in the worst way.

“Stop that right now!” He yelled and ran Chaol’s way, then pointed between Aelin and Dr. Whitethorn. “You two, out of my ER!”

The silver-haired doctor raised both hands in surrender. “What did I do?”

“I told you not to cause me any trouble.” Salvaterre pointed at Aelin. “Trouble.”

“But she needed to know!”

“Not to assault my patient!” He was looking at them with raging, bulging eyes. “You’re both leaving this hospital right now, and when you come back tomorrow, you’re going to forget about Mr. Westfall’s penis and act normal like you always have. Are we understood?”

Dr. Whitethorn sighed and nodded. Aelin had her chin up, but didn’t argue.

Imogen turned to Aelin, but kept her gaze lowered. "I’m so sorry, Ace."

She wanted to yank those chestnut curls until the crack in Imogen’s voice became a scream.

Instead, she rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut it. You can have his teeny weenie."

˜˜

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Whitethorn said the umpteenth time after they were kicked out of the hospital. He insisted on giving her a ride, since Aelin didn’t own a car.

“Stop saying that.”

“I’m sorry, I—“ He groaned. “I know I shouldn’t, but I feel responsible. Being my daughter and all.”

One corner of her mouth tugged up, but her smile had no brightness. “You really shouldn’t.”

They were in front of her apartment complex, where Dr. Whitethorn stayed the last twenty minutes waiting for her to pack up. She’d have to iron her clothes all over again soon, but the careless packing was better than spending more time at Chaol’s cursed home.

To be fair, she was mad at Chaol, but she wasn’t surprised he cheated on her.

But Imogen? She was the main source of the sharp pain in Aelin’s chest as she recalled how supportive she was of the breakup. Now that she thought of it, the last few Friday nights Aelin stayed alone at home because her boyfriend and her best friend were busy? Indeed, they were.

The doctor gave a pointed look to the Playstation under her arm. “What’s that about?”

Aelin shrugged. “You know, if you wanna crush a man’s soul, you gotta start with his video game.”

“And his car.” Dr. Whitethorn looked up, something devious sparkling in his eyes. “Where do you keep the sugar?”

Five minutes later, they were standing next to Chaol’s car. She held the jar of sugar as he held Fleetfoot’s leash.

“So, what are we doing?”

“If we put sugar in here.” Dr. Whitethorn pointed at the fuel door, where the gasoline went. “The sugar will turn into caramel and break the car from the inside while he’s driving. The engine will melt like butter. It’s a mess to fix.”

Aelin’s eyes widened, and she felt that sparkle of joy a girl could only feel due to a good revenge. Grinning, she didn’t think twice before filling Chaol’s ugly ass car with sugar.

Dr. Whitethorn was leaning against the car, eyes sparkling as he watched her excitement. “Having fun?”

She let out an evil cackle, already picturing her ex’s face when his car stopped Mala knows where. When Fleetfoot barked, Aelin felt like her dog was telling her she’s a good girl, not the other way around.

”Alright,” Dr. Whitethorn said after they were finished. “Where am I dropping you off now?”

That question took the words out of Aelin’s mouth. She had absolutely nowhere to go.

She either said it out loud or Dr. Whitethorn read it in her face, because he asked, “What about your cousin?”

Aelin grimaced. “He’s allergic to Fleetfoot. But I could make him take some histamines until I find somewhere else.”

“None of that.” He took her bags and pulled her dog’s leash towards his car. “You can stay with me for a week or two. I don’t mind.”

“What?” Aelin asked as her heartbeat got a bit faster.

“I have a spare room for you and a lot of grass for Fleetfoot. It’s the least I can do.”

She took a step further, but eyed him up and down. If Dr. Whitethorn showed any sign that he didn’t want her there, she’d go straight to Aedion’s.

“Come on.” He nodded to his car, face open.

Well, there was no arguing with an invite like that.

˜˜

9 p.m. Aelin wanted to kill 6 p.m. Aelin for even thinking about refusing to stay here.

His spare room? Comfy.

His books on medical imaging? A treasure.

His food? As mouth watering as the chef.

Aelin could stay the rest of her days here if it wouldn’t make her look like a parasite.

Fleetfoot was staying in the bedroom with her tonight, but she’d leave her outside during the day. Mala forbid her clumsy dog breaks something expensive while she’s at work.

Aelin tilted her head at the mirror, examining her own image. It was a sight, the way Aelin looked with that tiny nightgown of lacy and silk.

Too bad Chaol liked his video game better. And traitorous brunettes, apparently.

Tonight wasn’t about him, though. Neither would it be about the cock-breaker bitch she once called a friend.

Maybe a little, actually. There was this one thing she never did just to protect her friend’s feelings—a courtesy that wasn't reciprocated, so there was no stopping her now.

Aelin put her tinted lip balm on. The no-makeup makeup look she did looked perfect. Her hair was carefully messed up, every strand in its perfect place for an effortless look. She put her robe on for modesty reasons, of course. Too bad it was a little see-through.

Her own footsteps were the only sound in that hall, and the yellow light slipping through his office’s door guided her.

She knocked on his door once, twice.

“Come in.”

He didn’t take his eyes off his desk the whole time, leaning over his medicine books and laptop. That casual white t-shirt and tousled hair combo was enough to make her heart skip a beat.

Aelin leaned against the doorframe, letting that movement alone slip part of her robe open, showing off her curves. She tilted her head and assessed him like a predator hunting its prey.

“Hi, Dr. Whitethorn.” Her voice was a sultry caress, just enough to make him look up.

You can get notifications when I update by either following me on @backtobl4ck-fics or entering my (sometimes glitchy) tag list!!

TAG LIST

I couldn’t tag the people in bold, sorry!

@aelinchocolatelover

@autumnbabylon

@bookcide

@booksandteaonarainydayislife

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

@courtofjurdan

@dreamer-133

@elentiyawhitethorn

@elizarikaallen

@fangirlprincess09

@goddess-aelin

@gracie-rosee

@leiawritesstories

@lululululululuop

@renxzs

@rowanaelinn

@superspiritfestival

@swankii-art-teacher

@s-uppertime

@thegreyj

@violet-mermaid7

Dr. Whitethorn looked as if he'd seen a ghost.

His eyes lingered on her body for a second before they snapped back to her face. “Is everything alright?”

Aelin strolled his way without fixing her half-open robe, and moved a book so she could sit on his desk. Dr. Whitethorn didn’t restrain his gaze when she crossed her legs.

“I think I have a fever.” Aelin tilted her head, looking him in the eye. “I’m burning up, Doctor, and there’s also this ache. It’s torture.”

“Oh.” He tore his eyes off her and slightly shook his head, as if shaking something off his mind. “I’m sure I have a thermometer somewhere.”

While Dr. Whitethorn looked for his thermometer with his back to her, Aelin took her robe off.

“Got it!” He turned around with the device in his hand, but his expression changed. Dr. Whitethorn’s eyes were blown wide, lips slowly parting as he took her new state in. “Where’s your robe?”

Aelin tilted her head, exposing her neck while feigning confusion. “I thought you were going to examine me.”

“I-“ Rowan’s mouth opened and closed before something clicked and his eyes got full of determination. “We don’t need a thermometer, do we?” He closed the few steps between them, setting the thermometer down. Instead, he put one hand on the desk, next to where Aelin was sitting, and the other against her forehead. “Very feverish indeed.” The back of his hand ignited her as it softly slid against her cheek and neck. “Look, you’re shivering.”

Aelin nodded, lips parted. “I might even need continuous care.”

"I'd advise you to stay out of trouble and rest.” The hand he kept on the desk slipped to her thigh, tracing idle circles as it went up. “But I don’t think you’d follow my orders.”

“You’re wrong about that.” Aelin leaned away a little to look him in the eye, thrusting her chest out in the way and feigning innocence with her eyes. “I’ll follow every order you give me, Doctor.”

A shattered breath left his lungs, and he closed his eyes before continuing, “If you want me to take care of you…” Dr. Whitethorn sneaked his way towards her throat, applying enough pressure to send a jolt of electricity down Aelin’s spine. “You have to say my name.”

“Dr. Whi—“

He squeezed her throat harder, making a trail of goosebumps erupt on her skin. “Say my name, Aelin.”

“Rowan,” she rasped, slightly rocking her hips against his desk, desperate for any sort of friction.

His lips were almost brushing against the shell of her ear when he whispered, “Good girl.”

Aelin turned her face to him, but he still gripped her chin to meet her lips halfway. Rowan’s kiss was ravenous, he took over her mouth and turned Aelin’s blood into wildfire with every possessive swirl of his tongue.

She slid to the end of the desk, trying to meet his hips, and the movement gave him leverage to work on her neck. His rough kisses on her pulse point made her breath hitch, but Aelin wasn’t expecting it when Rowan yanked the thin strap of her nightgown, exposing one breast just to cover it with his hand.

“You’re so fucking pretty.” His voice was hoarse as he slid his fingers under her lacy panties. “But you know that already, don’t you?” He toyed with her entrance for a moment before plunging one finger in, curling it right at the spot that made her see stars. “You wouldn’t have come here if you didn’t know how gorgeous you are.”

Aelin whimpered, grinding against his now two fingers before she replied, “I like hearing it better when it comes from your mouth.”

He let his free hand tease her nipple and wander around her breast, collarbone, neck, before holding her chin and tilting towards him.

“Turn around,” he commanded while removing his fingers from inside her.

Aelin frowned at the change, but complied.

“Bend.”

She leaned over his desk, not missing how her short nightgown rode up as she did, and now her ass was sticking out, unprotected from the AC’s cold air and—

Rowan smacked her ass, and it lingered in a way that made her ache and press her thighs together with need.

He leaned over her, yanked her hair so it wasn’t covering her ear, and whispered, “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

Rubbing the redness off, he pecked her shoulder from behind, and gave her a moment to recover. However, that lingering burn only intensified when Rowan spanked her again.

One.

Two.

Three times.

"And this is for toying with me to get revenge."

Aelin‘s mind was too fuzzy to process his words now. She was trembling, whimpering on his desk when Rowan mentioned for her to turn around. He kneeled when she did, and the sight of him guiding her leg so it could rest on his broad shoulder made her insides flush.

Rowan didn’t spare a second before greeting her pussy with his tongue, looking her in the eye as he tasted her folds and massaged her clit. She was a whimpering mess, holding herself upright with one hand, her nerves on fire. The sight of Dr. Whitethorn worshiping her on his knees was enough to make her brain short-circuit.

He leaned away for a moment, lips parted and chin glistening with her wetness as he slowly pushed two fingers in. Trying to watch her gasp and his fingers filling her in at the same time, Rowan didn’t know where to look. He was taking her dismantled state in when Aelin grabbed his hair and led his mouth back to her.

It was too much. With his tongue on her clit while he fucked her with his fingers, Aelin felt like she was shattering from the inside out, ready to burst. Rowan toyed with her as she fell to pieces on his mouth, but she couldn’t last much longer.

Aelin cried out, knees buckling as shockwaves rippled through her body. He drew it out, not stopping until she went limp and muttering that she was being such a good girl and taking his fingers so well.

Rowan got up and wiped his chin with the back of his hand. She couldn’t understand what the look in his eyes meant, so Aelin pulled him in for another kiss.

This one was long and sweet, with Rowan rolling his tongue over hers like he had nowhere to go. He held her face with both hands and such care as if she was something precious, gently caressing her with his thumb. Aelin tugged on his waist, closing whatever little distance still was between them.

Instead of heating things up like she silently ordered, he rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling, and they just stayed there, silent. She didn’t know what he was thinking, but Aelin wasn’t able to think a lot herself.

She ran her hands over his chest, through his cotton shirt. How can a fully-clothed person give her a mind-blowing orgasm like this?

˜˜

Dr. Whitethorn was avoiding her.

Aelin had her suspicions when he didn’t do anything after giving her head, then didn’t show up for breakfast this morning before going to work. However, it was only confirmed when Dr. Towers commented how weird it was that he asked her intern to pick up the patient’s results at the lab.

Which meant he forgot how to send the images and his report in the new software, and printed them out instead of asking Aelin for help.

She was striding down the hospital halls, her heartbeat strong as she calculated what to say.

Rowan’s spine went rigid when she stormed in unannounced, but he still gave her a close-lipped smile.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I guess I should grow a sixth sense to know when you need help with Anne Jausten, since you’re avoiding me now.”

His face fell. “I’m not avoiding you, I’m…” he trailed, feeling the weight of her suspicious gaze. “…buying some time before we talk.”

Aelin sat on the chair beside his and crossed her arms. “Talk about what? How you fingered me into oblivion and ghosted?”

He had the gall to flush on the cheeks. “I didn’t mean to ghost you, I was just trying to sort things out by myself first because I need to be straightforward with you.” He sighed, his eyes looked pained when he said, “Last night shouldn’t have happened.”

What.

Aelin blinked, thoughts frozen as her chest tightened.

He continued, “You were hurt. Still is, probably. Angry, too. I should’ve been the one to stop, so we can just blame this on me and pretend it didn’t happen.”

“What are you talking about?” Aelin’s mouth hung open for a second, not quite understanding his train of thought. Rowan had an unannounced woman throwing herself at him in a flimsy nightgown and gave her earth-shattering oral without having a single orgasm in return. How in hell did he turn himself into the bad guy? She replied in a matter-of-fact tone, “I’m an adult too, Rowan, and I wouldn’t show up at your office half-naked if I wanted you to stop.”

He swallowed, his gaze a little too intense before he averted it. He pulled in a breath and slowly released it, his shoulders looking heavier each second. Rowan replied in a quieter voice, “Look, Aelin, I can’t be a pawn you use to get back at my daughter. I’m not saying Imogen’s right, you have every right to be mad at her, I’m just saying I have my own feelings to protect before engaging in whatever you two have going on. Hers, too.”

Oh. His words tied off whatever thread was tightening her chest, and now she felt it expand again, full of warmth. So that’s why he was acting weird. Rowan thought the only reason she sought him was to get back at Imogen.

Well, that was kind of true. Not completely, though.

“That’s one way to see it.” She tilted her head and ignored the way her pulse got faster. Laying all her feelings and intentions like this wasn’t what Aelin was used to doing with the guys her age, but it was better this way. “The way I see it, is that there’s this thing I’ve always wanted to do, but never did out of loyalty. But now the only tie holding me back is broken, so…” she trailed when something seemed to click inside his head, making his eyes widen.

“Are you telling me you were interested in me before it was convenient for you?”

Aelin nodded in response, trying to look earnest and not laugh at his confused face. The poor thing, so clueless of the effect he had on her.

“Huh.” Rowan frowned at Mora, the microscope, as he analyzed this new piece of information. “I hadn’t considered that.”

Unable to restrain herself, Aelin beamed. “Well, you should.”

He slowly nodded, still quiet. It was cute to watch him like that, all flustered and not quite processing that a girl actually liked him.

Now that he knew it, she decided to give him space to mull this over.

“There’s this broken monitor in the ER. I should go before Chief Salvaterre throws a hissy fit.”

“Sure.” Rowan aimed her a small smile. “See you at dinner?”

Aelin grinned, walking backwards to the door. “Or when you need help with Ms. Jausten.”

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~~

PART 1 - Adenine: paired with U

PART 2 - Concentration gradient: going down on you

PART 3 - Glucose: sticking to you

PART 4 - Vaccine: I want you in my arms

PART 5 - Lonely TCGTATGG would like to pair up with congenial AGCATACC

And look at this beautiful moodboard by @elentiyawhitethorn!! <3