7. Owen
CHAPTER 7
Owen
Z oe tastes like sweet like the champagne she's been sipping all night.
Adrenaline crackles through my veins. Two seconds ago, I'd been on the hunt for what scared her. But now? That fire in my blood is all for her. The way she tugged me closer, brushing her lips against mine in an invitation I couldn’t possibly resist.
I take control of the kiss, tipping her head back and claiming her mouth in sipping kisses that have the sweetest little whimpers coming from the back of her throat.
“Owen,” she sighs between my lips. “More.”
The word clangs through me, instinct and need taking over as I barely break our kiss and maneuver us through the stairwell door, spinning her to gently press her back against it.
There's nothing I’ll ever deny her, social proprieties be damned. Just like that night on the roof of my club, I’m insatiable for her.
My hand travels down the length of her side, my fingers brushing the soft bare skin of her thigh, the deep slit in her gown giving me all too easy access. My muscles bunch beneath my skin, my cock already hard and desperate to sink into her again. I tell it to calm the fuck down, this isn't about him.
I glide my hand behind her knee, then back up again, teasing her in long grazes that have her arching against me. Her kisses grow needier every time my hand trails close to where she's aching for me, and I can't help but smile against her kiss before I slightly pull away to look down at her.
“You want me to make you come right here, Kitten?” I ask, my voice lowered between us despite being completely alone here in the stairwell.
“Yes,” she says, her rich brown eyes flashing with pure desire and zero care for the public space we’re in.
This is twice now I've been graced with the opportunity to satisfy her excitement over a little public adventure. She may say that she's not a wild, thrill-seeking woman, but all the evidence points otherwise. Maybe she’s never had the right man to get her there, and I'm more than happy to be him right now.
I hold her gaze as I glide my hand back up her thigh, my fingers just brushing the lace that covers her heat. I groan when I find it damp, and she arches into my hand, brazenly seeking out that touch she's desperate for.
Goddamn, she's the sexiest thing I've ever seen, her eyes hooded with lust, looking up at me without a hint of embarrassment or worry, nothing but trust as I tease her with that lace, brushing the rough fabric over her clit too lightly.
“Owen,” she gasps when I do it again, her hands gripping my shoulders as I slide my free one around the small of her back, urging her tighter against me.
I slam my mouth over hers, teasing between her thighs, relishing the way she rocks against me.
I want to take my time.
I want to bring her to the edge of release and push her back so many times that I'll have to carry her out of here because she'll be too exhausted to walk.
But she seems to have forgotten there's a whole damn fundraiser happening just on the other side of this door, her friends no doubt will come looking for her in a minute.
I love that she’s so consumed with the need between us that she's not thinking that far ahead, but I'll have to take these precious minutes we have and give her exactly what she needs.
Later, I'll edge the fuck out of her, but for now? I want to give her whatever the hell she wants.
I push the lace to the side, groaning as my fingers meet her silken heat, her desire making for an easy glide inside her.
I draw back from our kiss, looking down at her, drinking in her swollen lips and flushed cheeks, her mouth parted on a gasp as I pump my fingers inside her, wishing like hell it was my cock.
“So fucking responsive,” I say, sliding another finger in, stretching her, loving the way she clenches around me. “You've been needing this since the second you left me on that roof, haven't you, Kitten?” I curl my fingers, teasing a spot that makes her gasp.
“Yes,” she breathes the word, her head falling back against the door. “God, yes.”
I smirk down at her, pure pride filling my chest as I continue to pump my fingers inside her, the motions and pace exactly what I’d do if we were at home and I had all the time in the world to fuck her properly.
I kiss her quickly, sucking her bottom lip into my mouth as I press the heel of my palm against her swollen clit, pumping and grinding, relishing the way her grip tightens on my shoulders and her breath quickens.
“Owen,” she gasps my name against my lips, and I swear my blood is on fucking fire from the sound of it.
“You're right there,” I say, holding my pace, relieving the pressure on her clit just enough that she whimpers. “So fucking beautiful,” I continue. “All flushed and needy.”
I capture her mouth again, and give her the pressure she needs, pumping and grinding until she moans in my mouth, her pussy fluttering around my fingers with her release.
Fuck, the feeling is unmatched, the shared joy and pride I feel at getting her off right here taking me right back to that night on the roof.
I work her through the throes of her release, my kiss slowing along with my touch until I gently pull my fingers out of her, helping her adjust her dress as she looks up at me with a satisfied look.
She reaches for me, her delicate hand just grazing over my hard cock, the quick touch making me jolt?—
A voice sounds over the loud speakers, announcing the winners of the silent auction, the reality of the event we're at crashing around us so quickly that we both laugh.
I smooth back some of her hair, kissing her again just because I can, before I shift away.
“I guess we should get back,” she says.
“We probably should,” I say, grinning down at her. I take a deep breath, a low growl rumbling from my chest. “I love that I'm going to smell like you for the rest of the night.”
Her eyes flare just a bit, that flush reigniting on her cheeks as I hold the door open for her.
We fold ourselves back into the party, mingling with everyone as if nothing happened. But Zoe keeps catching my gaze, her eyes filled with a needy desire I know will be the absolute end of me.
“Everything's going good here,” Caleb says as I hold the phone to my ear. “Numbers are steady, there's only been one fight this week, and we've only had six glasses break. All in all, it's been a chill week.”
“I'm glad to hear it,” I say, shuffling some of the papers on the small table before me.
“How’s the case?”
“Slippery,” I grumble.
“This fucker really is,” Caleb agrees. “He’s either smart and intentionally not using his credit cards to help me get a lead on his location, or he’s getting lucky. Either way, it’s annoying as shit.”
I huff a dark laugh. “You’re telling me. I just need two minutes with him. He’ll never bother Zoe again.”
“How is Zoe?” Caleb asks, his voice switching to that tone that tells me he’s wearing his shit-eating grin.
I blow out a breath, my thoughts jumping to the fundraiser last night and how I made her come on my hand. I couldn’t get that visual or the taste of her kiss out of my head.
“That good?” Caleb asks, laughing.
“Told you, man,” I say. “She’s a dream.”
“Still can’t believe your client ended up being the rooftop dream girl.”
“Me either, but I’m not complaining. Sucks under the circumstances, but she’s every bit the fantasy I’ve been dreaming about for months.”
“When do I get to meet her?” he asks.
“When she’s ready.”
“Fair enough,” Caleb says. “I’ll text you if anything new pops up. Let me know if there’s any new developments. We’ll nail this guy.”
“Thanks.”
“And Salty?”
“Yeah?”
“Try and have some fun while you’re out there. It’s not every day the girl of your dreams happens to be within an arm’s reach. Don’t waste that shit.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say. “I’ll try.”
We hang up, a little relief uncoiling in my chest knowing Caleb is taking good care of my club.
The case I'm working is frustrating as hell.
I’ve stared at the letters Zoe gave me from her stalker, plus all the information I've pulled on the guy's background in the days since, for the last hour.
Within the last decade, Spencer Joel has been arrested twice for assault—information I’ve yet to tell Zoe. She's already scared enough as it is with this guy, and I worry telling her might impact her day-to-day routine. That's the last thing I want to do. Besides, I'm here to protect her, and won't let that bastard get close to enough to even breathe on her, let alone attempt to hurt her. If he ever tried...
My hand curls into a fist atop the table, anger boiling inside me in a way that fires up all my alert sensors.
I'm thorough at my job, and damn good at it too. But the idea of someone hurting Zoe? This deep protective instinct flares inside me in a much more intense way than with my previous clients.
Shit .
The lines are getting blurred here. I always take my cases seriously, and never want anything bad to happen to any of my clients, but I can tell there's a little something extra when it comes to Zoe’s safety. Emotional, physical, it doesn't matter—there's nothing I wouldn't do to make sure she’s taken care of.
A flash of last night blasts through me, hot and searing. The way she'd gone soft beneath my touch, submissive and responsive in a way that told me the brilliant woman who was independent in every single facet of her life, liked to give up control in certain areas. Liked to be taken care of when she's usually the one handling everything.
And fuck me, she turned me on. I’ve never reacted so viscerally to someone in my life, never needed or wanted someone on the level I do her.
Ever since that night on the roof, our flirtatious texting, and then getting to spend more time with her now has led to this intense connection I can’t deny.
And I don't want to.
I don't know how the fuck I got lucky enough for someone as smart and wonderful and gorgeous as her to even entertain someone like me, but I’m sure as hell not going to waste it. Caleb was right about that.
I study the papers before me for a few more minutes, frustration settling heavy in my gut. The fact that Caleb is struggling to track him down is unsettling.
Normally, if I can just find these people and explain to them the severity of the situation and the consequences of what will happen if they continue, they back off. Getting an arrest on a stalker is a difficult and complicated situation—unless they cross the lines and make a physical attack on the person they’re stalking, it's an entirely difficult situation. And I'm sure as hell not going to let it get that far, hence me needing to find this guy and let him know the real-world consequences that lie just inside the law if he continues his bullshit.
I blow out a breath, checking the time. I have a half an hour before Zoe will open up her practice, and decide to drive to her favorite coffee shop in Sweet Water, grabbing the iced coffee that she can't seem to get enough of, before heading to the office.
She parks her car next to mine where I wait for her, and we both climb out at the same time, me with two coffees in tow. I hand her the sweet, cold concoction, and her eyes light up as she takes the drink and looks up at me.
“Thank you,” she says, glowing like I've just given her a diamond instead of an iced coffee. Her smile is breathtaking, the gratitude pouring off of her enough to make me want to buy her a coffee every day for the rest of forever if it makes her look at me like that.
“How did you sleep?” she asks as she unlocks the building, and we head inside. She takes a sip of her coffee as she sets down her bag in her office, moaning around the swallow.
Fuck, I want to hear her moan like that while I'm pumping between her thighs.
“I slept okay,” I say with a shrug.
“Just okay?” she asks, tilting her head.
I step farther into her office, cocking a brow at her. “I had a few things on my mind that kept me up.” I let her know exactly what I'm talking about with my eyes, and I'm rewarded with another flush from her.
“Oh,” she says with a little hint of surprise. She fidgets with a few things on her desk, breaking our gaze. “I'm sorry if I left you hanging. I had way too much champagne at the party and then you left so quickly after dropping me off?—”
“Zoe,” I cut her off, rounding her desk to stand in front of her, tipping her chin up so she meets my eyes. “You have nothing to apologize for,” I say. “You didn't leave me hanging. Not even close. And I was happy that you enjoyed drinking champagne with your friends last night,” I continue. “I'm glad you felt safe enough with me to let loose. I'm not sure if you get to do that too often.”
She smiles up at me, shaking her head slightly. “Where did you come from?”
I tilt my head.
“It's like you have some kind of superpower,” she continues. “First, you're so irresistible that I wanted you when you were hidden behind a mask, and then last night happens and you're right. I feel so safe with you, Owen. I've never had that before. I've had a couple serious relationships, but any time I'd get wild like that I’d get lectured about it, them saying I was making a scene or being too loud. I don't think you know what it means to me to be able to be myself without having to worry.”
“Fuck those guys,” I say, sliding my hand along her cheek.
We’d had the exes conversation during our texting sessions. Knowing what I know now, I imagine she's been with political types, men concerned with social proprieties that I’ve never even considered.
In my line of work, either at the club or with my private clients, social rules and class statuses didn't matter.
“You're never too loud,” I continue. “And you're certainly never too wild. If you haven't noticed, I like your passion.”
Zoe bites back her smile, her eyes flicking from mine to my lips and back again.
With just that look, I want her.
She reaches for me, almost like she’ll kiss me right here in her office?—
“We can't,” she says quickly, blinking a few times and taking a step away from me.
“Here. Not that I wouldn't want to. God, I'd love for you to take me right here on my desk. I mean...” She cringes, and I smile at her adoringly. “I have a client coming in ten minutes and even though I know what you're capable of with even less time than that, I have to keep some professional boundaries.”
“You got it,” I say, unable to contain my smile or the pride filling my chest at just how flustered I make her. I head toward the door, pausing as I look over my shoulder at her. “Do you have a desk at your house?”
Her rich brown eyes flare. “Yes,” she whispers.
My smile deepens. “Good to know.”
I head out of her office, grinning at the sound of the soft gasp that radiates from her as I head to my work space. I force myself to focus on the case at hand but have a really hard time when images of her sprawled out in her home office, propped up on a desk and me buried between her thighs keep popping into my head.