Chapter 53
Lucy - Present
I’m lying on Owen’s chest, his fingers dancing up and down my back, following the broken but now healed skin of my burn scars. The motion is soothing. Every now and then, he catches a ticklish spot which makes me squirm against him.
“You’re hard again,” I mutter lazily.
“You keep rubbing yourself against me, can you blame me?”
“You’re tickling me.” I lift my head and place a kiss on his chest and reach up and fiddle with his chest hair.
“I can feel the cogs in your head turning, Luce.”
I roll off him and sit up, the covers dropping from me. His eyes drop to my chest. “I should come with you—”
He’s shaking his head before I’ve even finished the sentence.
“No, we’ve been over this.”
“You’ve been over this; we haven’t been over this at all. In fact, I don’t think there was even a discussion, you’d already decided. What aren’t you telling me?” I cock my head as he sits up against the headboard.
“Since when do you want to have a conversation about stuff?”
I grab a pillow and whack him with it. “Stop deflecting, Mr Politician. It’s safer if I come.”
“For me, yes. But not for you. Look, the press are having a field day over you. Can’t you see I want to protect you as much as you want to protect me?”
“They won’t find anything,” I say, adamant. “Andrews took care of that years ago.”
He shakes his head. “Come on, Cookie. Don’t be na?ve. Andrews put you on this case because of our past.”
“Correct. But I can’t work out why the fuck Luca sent you to Apex in the first place.”
At that point, Owen looks away towards the window, where the heavy, dark grey curtains are closed hiding the view of Westminster in the distance. “But you know why,” I push.
He sighs and looks back to me. “I told him about us, about our childhood.”
“Idiot.”
“Why does that make me an idiot?” he asks, frowning.
“You told someone you shared a prison cell with your past. Do you have any idea the power that gives someone? Especially someone like Luca, as soon as you show a weakness, people exploit it.”
“What makes you think he exploited it?”
“Erm, he sent you a hard drive with evidence to shake up the government. He sent you to Apex, where Luca knew very well I worked.”
“Did you ever think he was maybe doing us a favour?”
I snort.
“Did you ever think that maybe he was trying to reunite us? I know you don’t like Luca, for what reason I don’t think I will ever truly understand, but he isn’t a bad person.”
I shake my head.
“I don’t want to argue.” Owen reaches out and grabs my pinkie, wrapping his finger around it. “I don’t want to go back over old ground. I want to move forward, Luce, with you.”
“Then why won’t you let me come tomorrow?”
“Because I want to, no, have to do this alone. This is my burden.” He tugs me towards him and I crawl closer as he lifts his arm, allowing me to snuggle back into him.
“I don’t want to talk anymore,” he says, kissing my head. “I just want to be in this moment with you.”
I look up at him through my lashes, his lips dropping to my forehead, and I nod. Because I want that, too.
My head tilts and take his mouth gently in mine, his lips a soft caress. I straddle him, but I don’t take it further than just the kiss that has my heart thundering.
His hands wrap around my arse, his tongue pushing into my mouth, while I tug at the roots of his hair.
Liquid pools between my legs, my breasts heavy, my body slowly moving against his hard length. I run my body up his shaft and pull back enough to reach between us where I position him at my entrance and slowly slide him in, all the while I watch his features.
His eyes roll back, his weight sagging into the headboard with his face masked in pleasure.
“Fuck,” he moans, the noise gruff and sensual in the back of his throat. “You’re so fucking tight, so fucking warm.”
“This mouth.” I shift closer and grab his lip between my teeth and bite gently. “So filthy.”
I pull up until I reach his tip, and sink back down, the pleasure makes me delirious. I lean back and repeat the motion, gyrating my hips as I sink up and down, in and out.
He watches me, his eyes hooded, his lip sucked between his teeth as he pulls in another breath.
“Did anyone tell you how stubborn you are, Mr Politician?” I ask as I raise until the tip is just there. And hold. “I’ve been called stubborn, but you’re as bad.”
I slam back down, and his hands grip my waist, holding me in position.
“See?” I grin. “Even now, you’re trying to take control.” I pull his hands off my hips, gripping them as I pull back up, and slam down again.
I increase the rhythm.
“Oh fuck,” he mutters.
I tilt my head back, my hands coming to my breasts and squeezing my nipples. “Your cock feels fucking amazing.”
His hand goes to my clit and his thumb presses down, his cock thrusting up and meeting me. “And yet you say I’ve got the filthy mouth.”
He rubs my clit, my slickness coating his thumb, the sound of our bodies hitting each other as I slam down and he slams up along with our heavy breathing, creating a heady atmosphere.
“Come for me, Cookie. I want to feel you come all over my cock.”
“Oh God. Yes, just like that.”
But he moves, twisting me to my back. He puts my legs on each of his shoulders as he pulls me back onto his length, impaling me. He holds my arse up, and the angle is perfect.
“Better?” he asks.
I cry out, “Don’t stop.”
He grins and kisses my ankle as he fucks me with abandon. We’re both lost to the moment, lost to the pleasure, a slave to the pulsing round my body.
The rise of the orgasm builds in my core, exploding out through every limb. Frazzling every nerve ending.
“Owen,” I cry, my eyes squeezing shut as pleasure rips through me.
“Yes, Cookie. That’s it, baby.”
He shatters above me, his face turning into bliss, all frown lines disappearing, his muscles contract as he comes.
He falls onto me, both of us breathing heavily.
“I love your cock,” I mutter as he kisses my neck. I grip his arse in my hands. “And your arse. A politician shouldn’t be as hot as you.”
He chuckles against my skin, his breath warm.
“A bodyguard shouldn’t really sleep with her boss, it’s very cliché.”
“This is pro bono, remember?” I squeeze his butt.
He pulls back, grinning. And he holds himself there, his eyes searching mine, mine searching his. Everything that we need to say, we say in the looks that pass between us.
I’m scared.
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but know that I love you.
I nod, and he leans forward and kisses me again.
Softly, coaxing, gentle.
It says everything we can’t say to each other, because we don’t want to acknowledge that this may well be goodbye.
Because putting it out there means we give those words power. So instead, we say nothing, we just stay in the moment.
And we stay there all night.
But as the light of the morning breaks through the curtains, I reach out to his side of the bed which is cold and empty.
He left, again.
But this time I know why.