13. In My Bed
Chapter thirteen
In My Bed
Charlie
Six weeks have changed so many things in my life. Well, maybe not many but one. And it’s a huge one. Odd really, how I can feel so strongly for someone I know is backing away from me. Someone who I hardly know yet, but feel like I have known forever. He’s ingrained in my every cell. I know that makes no sense whatsoever, but I can’t help it. I have feelings for him, that tall, god-like man with the fire tattoos. My mistake? I let myself see what could be. I dared to peek into the future, to see us, myself and Owen as an us.
Us.
Walking back to the flower shop, he’s all I think about. My footsteps remind me how I hear him at night. How I hear him in the morning. The shiver that coats my skin from the light breeze of the summer afternoon gives me flashbacks to his touch.
The ding of the door, when I enter, has the builders saying, ‘hi’ as I walk past them to the kitchen to make them all a drink. I’ve seen the changes in Owen since Millie's shooting. He’s isolating himself, withdrawing. It’s changed him, triggered him in some way.
Stirring the three strong teas, with extra sugar, I can’t help the surge of hatred I feel towards Millie’s ex, Glen. I would kill him myself if I ever had the chance. I’d beat him black and blue for what he’s done to Millie. I was so selfish that night. I could have helped. I could have been there when she got that message from Em, the night of the ball, that it was her life or Millie’s. My best friend chose her own life. She knew Em was pregnant and willingly walked into Glen’s gun-holding hands, and where was I? Throwing a self-pity party. I know deep down there was no way I could have predicted what would happen, or even if I could have actually helped, but given the chance, I would have done anything to prevent Millie from getting shot. Even putting myself in the line of fire.
In the end, Owen was there when Millie needed him, and when I needed him in the aftermath. Forgiving him for lying to me, that was easy. That's when it changed for me, my feelings. I’m not sure it was for the better, but my heart took over my head. Now my head is trying to have a serious talk to my heart—it’s not working, no matter how much I try. Hanging my head while the tea stews. I wasn’t even there and I can see how difficult it must have been to be part of it all. Owen had to hold Jack back, while Millie was helpless at gunpoint. A tough choice to make. I can't imagine how you would come to process that.
Owen’s been on a roller coaster of emotions since then, none of which he talks about, but I can see them playing out in his eyes and his actions. Conflicting emotions, torn between wanting to give me more, and something else, something darker, something he’s trying to hide and keep me safe from.
When we’re together, he can't get enough of me, just like I can’t get enough of him. The way he is with me, physically we are good, explosive even. Mentally, however, the heaviness that encompasses him when we speak. Like he wants to know everything, about me, my day, my interactions, my life, but doesn’t process the answers, or never stays long enough to talk.
Placing the mugs on the counter, I make my way back upstairs as the builders shout their thanks. Owen confuses me. A few weeks back we spent every moment we could together, breakfast at mine, he’d bring me lunch, we’d sit on the unfinished floor and eat, chat and laugh. Sneak in a quickie before he went back to work. He’d help me with the shop refurbishment, bring his tools around at the weekend and build something unexpected, like the sign that now hangs over the shop front. I cried it was so beautiful. It’s in pride of place. It really took my breath away, just like he does in those moments.
But then the lunches stopped. He would be gone before I woke, and the weekends became mine, with no sight of him. Not in the waking hours, anyway. The nights are still ours when he climbs into bed with me. I’ve not asked how he gets in; I’ve not given him a key. I’m just glad he chooses my bed every night. There’s just something not right. I know it, and that has my mind reeling. I feel it in my chest, in the pit of my stomach, and in every breath I take. I can feel him pulling away like he’s torn. Sitting at the table in my finished apartment, no boxes in sight, I pull out my laptop, checking on the case I left behind to see if there is any news. Simon’s asked a few times since I moved in if I would consider working for him again. The answer is still no. It doesn’t stop me from checking in though.
Climbing into bed hours later, I drift, knowing Owen will be here when he’s ready.
I feel the bed dip when he climbs in beside me, his arms sneak around me, his warm breath on my skin. I feel his hard length pressed into my back as he holds me close. My chest tightens, just that little bit more. I should have been stronger, but I think it’s too late now.
“Angel, I want to give you something,” he whispers across my back. I try to roll over to face him, but his hands hold me in place at my hips. “Stay there.”
His hands slide around my neck and I feel something cold against my skin. My hand moves up to feel what he just placed there. A necklace. He places a soft kiss on the side of my neck, where I know he likes to feel my racing pulse and right now it's beating hard. I feel the smile on his lips before he flips me over, his body pressing against mine.
“This,” he says, softly tracing the line of my new necklace with his fingers, “I want you to wear it all the time, no matter what.” He places a kiss where the small silver pendant sits. I can feel the engravings, but I can’t see them in the dimly lit room.
With only the light of the full moon lighting my bedroom, it’s easy to see what he feels right now. His eyes soft and tender, caring, wanting, his frown set in place. In his body language, loving almost? Tracing the chain of the necklace, letting me know it’s important to him. Maybe I got it wrong about him backing away. A bubble of hope appears in my chest. I want to take all his worries away. But the way he said it, no matter what, I want to ask him what that means. I want to say something, but I can’t. I’m scared what the answer would be. The words won’t come out.
I’m protecting myself from the hurt I think is coming by not asking. Ignorance is bliss, right? I don’t want to know. It’s better I don’t. I won't be able to handle the truth. Because I’m not falling anymore, I’ve fallen with a loud and messy bang. My hands come up to my chest, to where the necklace now sits across my heart.
“Thank you. I will… Always.” when I move to get up, I want to take a look at what he has bought me, but he yanks me back down. Landing back beside him, he cups my face in his hands and places a soft kiss to my lips.
“Promise me… Angel, please, no matter what.” his voice is thick with emotion. His words scare me. He’s mentally pulling further away from me. I feel the shift in what's happening. It's deep, just like his eyes right now. Telling me his unspoken words of need and desperation, of what will happen next, all messed up with sadness and lust. It’s a heady mixture, one I would never regret looking into if I could do it forever.
I have a feeling after tonight things will be different, very different.
My heart sinks a little. I hope to whoever is listening that I have it wrong.
“No matter what,” I whisper back into his lips before they crash down on mine. Bruising them with everything he has and everything I want to give in return. My heart can’t take it. It feels so full, but so lost at the same time, I don’t know how but I shove it all down, somewhere deep to deal with another day. It’s going to ruin me.
We move together; he lets me take control, something he never does. I push him down and straddle him, his hands grip my hips tight, guiding me as I slide onto him in one move. A soft moan escapes my lips, his eyes never leaving mine, filling me so completely. This is different. I know it is. This means more.
What have I done? I let him sneak his way in. If this is it, I'll take it.
All of it.
Everything.
Anything he is willing to give me. Because right now, in this very second, connected to him, I’d rather have this than nothing.
His hands trace my body, rolling my hips against his. He sinks deeper, his touch leaving flames across my skin. Like he wants to remember everything, every detail. I savour every touch of his warm callused hands, rough but so tender on my skin. His eyes bore into mine, and it takes everything not to break down and tell him how I feel, because I know it won’t make a difference, not now. I won’t cry.
I’d wait for him. My lost soul.
“Angel.'' His hand moves up from my hips, gliding his fingers up until he rests them over my heart, pausing for a few seconds before bringing them to my back, as he sits up, face to face with me. Still holding my gaze, he places a soft kiss on my parted lips. Resting his forehead on mine, he starts to move with me. Driving deeper, finding the spot that makes me crazy.
“Take what you need, let me watch...” And I do. I chase the feeling of him so deep inside me, the feelings I have and can’t share with my words, I show him. With every touch, caress, and kiss. I drown in him. Engulfed by the flames that are Owen.
I'm not sure any other man will live up to how he stretches me, how he makes me feel. How Owen Archie Stone makes me feel everything. After everything I’ve been through, I never thought it was possible. I take it all. When I’m close, he thrusts up and his words echo in my mind.
“You’re mine, Angel. Say I'm yours…” I can't speak as the most intense orgasm takes over me. “I’m yours,” I manage to say when he slams into me one more time, and he comes with me, sending me higher. My head drops back and Owen places his hand on my heart again, as his thumb circles my clit. I hear it, but I don’t think it's me, something that resembles a sob, as I let go.
I’m his.
I don't remember much after that. I must have fallen asleep. I woke up to the sun rising; golden yellows with hits of reds. A new day.
Owen was gone. The bed was empty, cold. This time, it felt different.
Last night is a night I will never forget. The necklace, it’s so beautiful. My fingers tremble every time I touch it. The words turn in my head on repeat…
No matter what.
You’re mine.
I’m yours.
Every time I touch the delicate gold chain. No matter what. With the most staggering gold locket I have ever seen. You’re mine . Engraved with the most intricate design—angel wings tangled up in wisps of fire. It’s sealed shut. I’m yours.
The memory of his eyes haunts me, even now, eight hours later. You could see the pain, lust, and desperation in them. I’ve tried so hard to get on with stuff today, but I just can’t. The builder keeps asking me questions I have no answers to, not today. He stopped asking a while ago and left me to my thoughts.
My overwhelming thoughts.
Tonight, that’s what it comes down to. I don’t know what it will bring. I’m not sure what I will do if Owen doesn’t climb into my bed tonight.
Shatter.
Break.
Crumble.
I’ve been standing here most of the day, watching the builders finish up the work. I officially open on Monday. The work is done, apart from a few last-minute things. I’ve got my first flower delivery tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn, and orders to get ready to send out.
The papers I have been staring at for hours in front of me shift slightly as the front door opens and the bell chimes. Looking up, I watch as Leon steps inside. I know before he says anything…
Owen’s gone.