11. Owen
CHAPTER 11
Owen
I t's been nine days since the first time I slept at Zoe’s place, and I've spent every single night there since.
You'd think at some point we’d need a break or risk burnout with how new the relationship is between us, not to mention the fact that I see her all day at work too, but neither one of us has popped the brakes.
For me at least, it's quite the opposite.
I can't get enough of her.
And it's not just because of how spectacular we are in the bedroom.
We're good together in every facet, whether that be grabbing a quick lunch during her breaks in her workday, me grumbling at the stubborn stray cat she loves, watching ridiculous shows on Netflix together, or attending elaborate functions with her fancy friends.
It's like we've always been together—making each other laugh or going lust-starved from just an innocent touch. I'm not surprised, especially since her texts alone used to make my entire day. Now that I get to wake up next to her? It's making me think things I have no business thinking.
Things like asking her to officially be mine even though I know I shouldn’t.
She understands my work and is more accepting of it than anyone ever has been before, but that doesn't mean she's ready to commit to a monogamous relationship where I can get called away on assignment for months at a time. And despite knowing that, the idea of her dating anyone else makes this territorial asshole creep up inside me, full of jealousy and ownership I have no right to.
Still, it doesn't stop me from feeling the way I do. From wanting to keep her all to myself. From wanting the honor and privilege of calling her mine and doing everything I can, every single day, for the rest of forever, to make her happy.
Jesus, I've only known her a few months, and I’m already picturing a forever? I must be losing my damn mind, because I've never once thought these things before. Never considered quitting my contract work and letting the nightclub be my sole source of income.
Not that Zoe would ask that of me, but she'd absolutely be worth it.
Plus, I know for a fact it would be me struggling through a months-long separation more than her. She’s simply stronger than me, mentally and emotionally.
I do my best to force these racing thoughts from my mind as I scan the footage from the previous day around Zoe’s office while she's in with a client.
Nothing out of the ordinary, even Gregory has stuck to his routine. Showing up in the back of the building where the patient exit door is, demanding food that Zoe always puts out for him. It's cute as hell—despite his aversion to me—but the clockwork of the routine puts me on edge. If I've noticed that she goes out that door promptly at five p.m. every evening, then so could Spencer. And from the way he tore up her porch last week, I know he doesn’t care that I feed the cat with her every night.
I make a mental note to mention it to her later. Maybe we could finally coax him to be a house cat or switch up the times or something.
After another hour, I head over to her office, finding her door open just like I suspected. She doesn’t have another client for an hour, and I simply can’t stay away from her any longer.
“How's your day going?” I ask after lightly tapping on the side of the entryway, lingering there in case she's deep in work mode.
Her smile is bright as her eyes, flying to mine, looking up from some paperwork scattered about her desk. “So far so good,” she says, setting down a pen and rounding the desk to stand before me. “You?”
“Can't complain,” I say, then tilt my head.
Zoe notices the hesitant move and arches a brow at me. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing's wrong,” I say, smoothing a hand down her arm because she can't be this close to me without touching her. “I just picked up on something today about a routine of yours and I’m…concerned.”
Her features turn serious, and she nods. “And I thought I'd been doing so well about shifting things up,” she says. “I don't take lunch on the terrace anymore, and I take my lunch breaks at different times. I've even shuffled my clients around. What did I miss?”
“ We missed it,” I assure her. I reach my other hand to cup her cheek, making sure she can see the severity in my face. “You've been doing amazing. Honestly, you're going above and beyond.”
She flashes me an incredulous look. “But?”
“But,” I say, shifting closer to her. “Your habits with Gregory are like clockwork. Even when I’m doing it with you. It would make me a whole hell of a lot more comfortable if you started varying the times we feed him and give him those treats. Or hell, invite him into the building and make him an indoor cat.”
Zoe closes her eyes and blows out a breath before looking back up at me. “I didn't realize,” she says shaking her head. “Especially since you’ve been doing it with me. But you know Gregory. He’s the one who operates on a schedule. He knows exactly when I'll be here. And you know I’ve tried to lure him inside with treats. I think he’s warming up to me, but he’s an independent-gentleman-of-the-night cat. I’m not sure if we’ll ever be able to contain him.” Her smile turns into a little frown at that, and every instinct urges me to track down the cat and tell him he has to be her pet, if only to make her smile.
“Don't you dare,” she says, eyes flaring up at me as if I stated my thought out loud. “I can see the look on your face. You're always trying to solve all my problems, but Gregory doesn't belong to me, and if he decides he wants to take the next step in our relationship then that's on his terms, not mine.”
I laugh, deep and rough and unexpected. Something that always happens with Zoe, either from her mouth or from a teasing text. Jesus, I can't get enough of this girl.
“Heard,” I finally say.
Her grin deepens, and she smooths her hands over my chest before bringing her body flush against mine. I immediately snake an arm around her lower back, securing her against me as our mouths are an inch apart?—
The bell sounds, signaling someone entering the building, and we immediately break apart, her eyes losing all sense of warmth they had a moment before.
My instincts snap to high alert, and I carefully secure her behind her office door before spinning around to check who the unexpected guest is.
“Ah, Mr. Rolfe,” Senator Casson says, Zoe’s father striding through the door in one of his expensive suits. He extends a hand toward me, and I shake it, blowing out a breath that it's only him and not Spencer finally getting brazen enough to try me.
“Dad,” Zoe says from behind me, coming out of the cover of her office to hug him quickly. “I didn't know you were stopping by.”
Senator Casson slides his hands into his pockets, his eyes darting between us before he focuses on Zoe. “I just had a wonderful lunch at Lyla’s Place,” he says. “And I couldn't resist a quick pop in to see how you’re doing.”
“I'm doing great,” Zoe says.
“Really?” he asks like he’s not totally buying it. “I know Rolfe here briefed me on an incident last week, and you've ignored my texts asking about it.”
“I haven't ignored your texts,” she says. “I've been busy.” Her eyes flash to mine for a moment before they return to her father's, and it's all I can do to not smirk. “And yes, that situation rattled me. But I'm grateful for Mr. Rolfe. He's definitely making me feel safe.”
Lava streaks through my veins with the way she says my name so formally, definitely not the way she said it last night, breathless and intimate.
Senator Casson nods, a bit of tension dropping from his shoulders as he looks at me. “I'm certainly glad you're taking care of my daughter,” he says. “Worth every penny to keep her safe.”
“She’s my number one priority,” I say, glancing at her before forcing my gaze away. “I'm doing my best to take very good care of her.”
Zoe laughs, loud and effortless and so damn sweet.
He smiles, looking a bit confused at her reaction, and I chuckle softly before nodding to them both, shaking her father's hand again before I head off to my workstation to give them some privacy.
They have a quick chat before her father has to hurry off to another meeting, and I hear the click of Zoe’s heels before she rounds the corner and stops at my workstation, gaping down at me.
“Taking very good care of me?” she asks, laughter in her tone.
“What?” I ask, pushing away from my desk and standing in front of her. “Am I not?”
She shakes her head up at me, but there’s a smile shaping her lips. Her hands find their place against my chest again. “You are,” she says. “But I'm not sure what he’d say if he found out just how well you're taking care of me.”
“It doesn't matter if he fired me, Kitten,” I say. “I'd still take care of you. I’d still protect you. Regardless of a contract or a paycheck.”
It’s the truth. Honestly, it feels a little unsavory to be accepting her father's money, but he'd paid me up front, before I even knew who my client was. I'd already been calculating ways to get it back to him without being too obvious, but figured we had time.
“I have no idea what good karmic energy I put out in the universe to deserve someone like you in my life,” she says, drawing up on her tiptoes, bringing her lips a mere breath away from mine. “But I’m sure as hell grateful for it.”
“That's my line, Kitten,” I say, folding my arms around her.
She looks like she wants to say more, something serious fluttering in those rich brown eyes of hers. She blinks it away and presses her lips against mine, bringing us both back to the common ground we love to dance on.
Our mouths crash together in a slow and possessive kiss that has fire licking through my veins, and a growl rumbling in my chest. I know we have minutes before her next client, definitely not enough time for me to do much, but I can't get enough of her. Her laugh, her smile, her words, her mind, her kiss, her body…I want to drown myself in all things her .
“Speaking of taking care of me,” she says as she draws her mouth away from mine, her lips slightly swollen from my kiss. “Every year I have a conference I run for therapists around the country. I host tons of guest speakers who run panels with the latest research and techniques, and there are dinners and dances in between. I speak at the end of it too. It’s in two weeks. It'll probably be boring to you, but if you want to be my plus one, it's at one of the nicest hotels in Charleston.”
I smooth my hand over the line of her jaw, my thumb just grazing her bottom lip. “Like you could keep me away,” I say.
She smiles up at me, looking at me like I’m the damn answer to all her problems.
I can't deny the way it makes my heart thud against my chest that much harder. I'm about to lean down and kiss her when the bell sounds again, and she blows out a breath.
“That'll be my three o’clock,” she says, backing away from me. “After this hour is up, I'm done for the day. We'll make sure to feed Gregory early, and then maybe you and I can go for tacos?”
“Sounds like perfection,” I say before she heads toward her client, ushering them into her office before closing the door behind them.
Perfection .
Everything with her feels like something close to it.