Chapter 13
thirteen
CLAIRE
If Owen didn’t kiss me soon, I might spontaneously combust right on his sofa. Just burst into flames of pent-up need. I could feel my heartbeat against the rope. Having my arms restricted took some getting used to, but being at Owen’s mercy was delicious.
‘Kiss me,’ I pleaded. It should have embarrassed me to be so wanton, but I didn’t care. Anything as long as that thick-chested Scot finally locked lips with me.
At last, he did.
Slowly.
His mouth brushed mine. The softest graze of his lips. I leaned into the kiss, losing myself in the delicate sensation of our first kiss. I craved it harsher and tried to take more, but he held the rope behind my back tight.
‘More,’ I begged.
‘What to you want, pretty girl?’
‘Everything.’
Then he kissed me again. Longer and deeper, the kind of kiss that dissolves all sensibility. Heat slid to my core. My shoulders relaxed as I let everything go. Focused solely on the way Owen’s tongue sent waves of need into me.
He didn’t rush. Taking his time like I was the tastiest thing he’d ever encountered.
Gentle kisses at the corner of my mouth.
Deep, passionate kisses that had me gasping for air.
His hand cupped my jaw, and I opened for him without thinking.
A soft sound escaped me every time he backed off a fraction.
He swallowed each sound like a man starved.
Most people kissed as if it were the first step on a ladder to where they actually wanted to be. Not Owen. He kissed as if it were an Olympic sport.
Every time I sought more, he diverted it with another brain-melting make-out session. I let go in increments. The frantic part of my brain was finally quietening. All I had to do was feel. To let him steal my breath away.
He gathered me up without breaking the kiss and pulled me into his lap. I moaned as my spread legs straddled his hips while the dust sheet crumpled beneath us. His arm snaked around my waist, the rope tugging as I settled.
He kissed as if kissing was his end goal.
Slow, then slower. A tease of tongue that made my toes curl in my socks.
He tasted faintly of coffee; I imagined I did too.
I tilted my head, and he followed. He leaned, and I followed back.
We found a rhythm that soon had me whimpering against his lips.
I forgot about performing, like I usually did in the bedroom.
It was all lips and breath and the sweet ache of wanting.
Heat enveloped me, and I writhed against Owen, all too aware of the hardness against me. My leggings were thin enough to feel every inch.
‘So needy,’ Owen murmured, his mouth sliding to my throat. ‘I don’t remember telling you to grind against me.’
‘Technically, you put me here.’ I rolled my hips as he nipped my neck with his teeth.
‘A good point.’
‘Not the only point being raised…’
Owen smirked, his grumpy facade warming.
‘Now, now. I hope I don’t need to tame your brat side.’
‘You need to tame something.’ I rolled my hips again, eliciting a delightful groan from him.
‘Are you saying that my kissing isn’t enough to fulfil you?’ Owen gave a mock pout that had me laughing.
The laugh turned into a moan when Owen gripped my hips in his large hands and moved my hips. The sudden manhandling caught me off guard.
‘Oh,’ I whispered as the head of his cock ground right there.
‘God, you’re so beautiful. I love the way you moan.’
‘Fuck, Owen.’ I ached to reach out and steady myself against his shoulders, to leverage myself and take what I so desperately needed.
‘All in good time.’
It’s a good thing he had my arms bound. I might have slapped him otherwise.
But my ire didn’t last long. Not with his thickness driving against me. Owen looked up at me with those blistering blue eyes, his jaw ticking as I let out a groan. The rope bit into my flesh with each judder of my body, and it made my head go fuzzy.
The earth narrowed to the two of us. To the mingling of our breath and the dampness of my skin.
‘If you’re not careful, I’m going to come before we’ve even taken off any clothes,’ I panted.
‘Yes, you are.’ There was a commanding edge to his voice that had me quivering. ‘You’re going to come right here in my lap so I can memorise the face you make when you finally lose control.’
Facing him while he arched pleasure into me had my cheeks flushing. It almost felt more intimate than the full-blown sex I’d had.
His teeth caught his lower lip as threads of need unravelled inside me.
‘Please kiss me,’ I whimpered.
For the first time since he’d touched me, his control slipped enough that he kissed me with harried abandon. If slow, steady Owen had me sweating, heated Owen had me erupting. I lost myself in the clash of our tongues and the way his fingers dug into my hips. Bliss washed over me in a growing tide.
‘That’s it, Claire. Come for me.’ The growl in his voice tipped me over the edge, a ferocious orgasm ripping through me, each nudge of his hard dick making me cry out.
By the time I came back to myself, Owen was openly admiring me. I’d never felt so sated, yet so exposed at the same time.
‘Like what you see?’ I asked.
‘More than you know.’
Owen pulled me forward for a sweet, tender kiss.
‘You all right?’ he murmured, forehead resting against mine.
‘If I had bones, I think I’ve misplaced them.’
‘Good,’ he said, kissing the corner of my mouth like a stamp of approval.
When he finally drew back, I chased him with my lips because apparently I’d become needy around him. He smiled. An actual full-on million-watt smile. My stomach swooped at the sight of it.
‘God, you should do that more often,’ I said.
‘Pin you to my dick and make you scream?’
Damn. I thought he was hot when he was stoic, but potty-mouthed Owen was a whole new ballgame.
‘No. Well, yes. Obviously, more of that would be fantastic, but I was talking about smiling.’
Owen curled an escaped tendril of red around his finger. ‘Noted.’
His hands moved to the knots behind my back. ‘Any tingling? Sore?’
‘Floaty,’ I admitted. ‘In a good way. Like my head’s filled with helium.’
‘That’s a good sign.’ Lifting me without even a grunt, he turned me to face away from him.
The tension eased as he undid the knots and slowly looped the rope from my arms. Pins and needles rushed into my fingers.
Owen tugged me against his chest, warmth covering my back.
He rubbed my wrists and fingers until feeling returned, making me sigh with pleasure as he worked in careful circles.
Lifting my hands, he pressed a kiss to each wrist. A small, almost ceremonial thing that made my throat burn.
‘I’ll get you a drink and something to eat,’ he said, standing and tugging me gently upright with him.
‘I’m a bit wobbly.’
Owen scooped me up in his arms as I squealed, carrying me to the kitchen and depositing me on the counter.
‘Toast?’
‘Please. And there’s cheese in the fridge. And marmalade.’ He looked at me as if I’d grown two heads. ‘What?’
‘You want cheese and marmalade? Together?’
‘Yeah. It’s good!’
‘Yet I’m the kinky one.’
The kitchen light was dim, making everything look softer, including the mess. He put a mug of coffee in my hands and a plate of toast on the table, half buttered, and half with my abomination. I ate like a woman who’d been to the edge and back.
His face kept that steady, infuriating calm. Sitting in the messy kitchen with Owen was worlds away from where I had been in London. Not just in distance. Marty would never have touched me in a house that has so much disorder. Or while I was covered in paint with my hair like a rat’s nest.
But Owen looked past it all.
‘Do you want to stay over?’ I blurted.
He leaned against the counter and shook his head. ‘I’ll stay until you’re alright, but I need to get back. Meowrse will be furious with me for his dinner being so late.’
‘I could make you feel good?’ I offered in a rush, attempting to sound saucy but coming across a little needy. ‘I like giving, too.’
He shook his head gently. ‘I got everything I needed.’
‘Oh my God,’ I raised my brows. ‘Did you…you know…in your jeans?’
He laughed. A full belly laugh. Head back, eyes creasing in a way that made my thighs clench.
‘No. But thank you for your concern.’
‘You don’t want to finish?’
‘I can wait. I enjoyed watching you immensely.’
We finished the toast and the pie in a companionable hush. Me with thoughts whirring in my brain. Why didn’t he want to sleep with me?
‘When will I see you again?’ I asked, trying to make it sound casual and failing.
‘Isla’s hoping you’ll come by Monday to help us make more videos and talk through a plan for the autumn fair.’ The corner of his mouth kicked. ‘Apparently, we require content.’
‘Only Isla?’ I nudged his knee with mine.
He sobered just a touch. ‘No. Not only Isla.’
Owen threaded his fingers into my hair and tipped my face up to his. ‘Don’t mistake my restraint for disinterest, Claire.’
‘Okay.’
‘Now go to bed,’ he said softly. ‘To sleep. I’ll lock up and put the keys through the letterbox. Text me if you need anything.’
‘Yes, sir,’ I grinned. I’d meant it in that cocky, bratty way, but it unlocked something behind his eyes that flashed with desire.
Unfortunately, he still didn’t pin me to the counter and ravish me, but sent me on up to bed with a bottle of water.
Leaving me more confused than after the not-kiss.