My Fated Mate Can Have Her

Chapter 267: Rocking The Boat

Violet

I startled. "Yes?"

Rowan was watching me, his head tilted slightly. A small smile played at the corner of his lips.

"You seem distracted."

"I’m not," I said too quickly. "I was just... looking at the water."

I slowly focused more on our surroundings. The place really was beautiful.

His smile widened, but he didn’t push. He reached for the jug and poured two glasses of the sweet drink, offering one to me.

Our fingers brushed as I took it.

I nearly dropped the glass.

"Careful." His hand steadied mine, and he held it for a moment longer than necessary.

My pulse hammered.

I pulled my hand back, cradling the glass against my chest like it was a shield.

"Thank you," I managed.

Rowan leaned back against the cushions, one arm draped along the back of the seating. The position pulled his shirt tighter across his chest.

The fabric strained across his shoulders, hinting at the solid muscle beneath. Where the collar parted, I could see the hollow of his throat, and the beginning of his collarbone. The breeze caught the loose fabric again, pressing it flat against his stomach before releasing it.

’What are you doing?!’

I forced myself to look at his face and found him staring out at the water, a wistful look on his face.

I felt immediately relieved he hadn’t noticed me staring. I took a sip of my drink, trying to keep myself calm.

The drink really helped, and it tasted as sweet as it smelt.

I thought of Kael and felt a bit guilty. It helped a bit in dampening my craving, but the feeling also made me feel sour.

Rowan was also my mate, was there anything wrong with wanting him?

I swirled the drink in my hand, mesmerised by its golden colour.

"You haven’t eaten or touched your food. You don’t like this place?"

I flinched. Rowan had leaned close beside me, worry lingering in his eyes.

"No, sorry, It’s not like that. I like the quiet..."

I shouldn’t spoil our time together like this.

I do not know or understand why my body reacted the way it did, but I seemed to melt as I leaned into him. I stilled, clutching the cup to my chest again.

I took a gulp from the cup.

The liquid burned going down, sharper than I expected, and I coughed. Rowan reached over immediately, his hand landing on my back, rubbing in slow circles.

"Easy," he murmured.

His palm was warm through the fabric of my dress. Each circle he traced sent sparks skittering down my spine. I could feel the individual press of each finger, and the gentle strength in his touch.

"I’m fine," I choked out. "I’m fine."

He didn’t remove his hand.

The boat drifted beneath a stone bridge, the shadows cooling the air for a brief moment before the sun found us again. I stared at the water, at the dappled light dancing across its surface, at anything that wasn’t him.

But I could still feel him beside me, along with the weight of his attention. He was watching me.

The canal grew quieter as we moved deeper into older parts of the capital.

The other boats had thinned, their voices fading until the only sounds were the gentle lap of water against the hull and the rustle of leaves overhead. The buildings here were older, their facades covered in creeping vines, their windows dark and shuttered.

It felt like we had slipped into a different world entirely, and it was eerily beautiful.

I was grateful for the distraction of the scenery.

Rowan started pointing out a few more landmarks, and some were oddly funny, like a bridge where some famous poet had supposedly thrown himself into the water over a broken heart.

I soon found myself relaxing a bit more, and eating some of the fruits. His voice had grown softer, more intimate, matching the quiet of our surroundings.

His words washed over me without the desperate need to block them out.

When he shifted away from me, I sat up, missing his warmth.

"Come here."

I blinked, startled.

Rowan had created space in front of him. He patted the cushion between his spread legs, his expression open and inviting.

"What?" I whispered.

"I want to hold you." He said it simply, like it was the most natural request in the world. "Please." His eyes softened.

My heart lurched.

I should say no. I should maintain some distance, some boundary. But the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, I found myself moving despite knowing deep down that this was not a good idea.

I settled between his legs with my back against his chest, and his arms wrapped around my waist immediately, pulling me flush against him. His chin came to rest on the top of my head, his breath tingling my scalp.

"There," he murmured. "Better."

I couldn’t disagree.

His chest was solid and warm behind me, rising and falling with each steady breath. I could feel his heartbeat against my back, and his arms were a comfortable weight around my middle. One of his hands rested on my stomach.

The boat rocked gently, and the motion pressed me closer to him with each sway.

It felt a bit too intimate.

"Violet," he said softly.

"Yes?"

He didn’t answer immediately. His thumb traced a slow arc around the edge of my stomach.

My throat tightened.

"I’m glad you’re here," he said simply.

The words were quiet, sincere, and utterly devastating.

"Me too," I whispered.

The moment was peaceful for a while, but my attention kept drifting to the warmth seeping into my body despite the cool air, and to the way his thumbs had started tracing absent patterns against my stomach.

It was slowly driving me mad.

The longer we sat there, the more aware I became of every point of contact between us. His thighs bracketing my hips. His chest against my spine. The way his breath stirred my hair.

And beneath me—

I shifted slightly, and Rowan’s hands tightened on my waist.

"Stay still," he said quietly.

But my body refused to cooperate.

My face burned.

Had he noticed?

The heat that had been simmering since I woke from that dream was building again. My skin felt too tight and my dress suddenly felt suffocating.

"Rowan," I breathed.