Laya
LAYA
His gaze holds my heartbeat hostage. He stares at me with such potency I grip the vanity to stabilize myself. How I’ve longed for his eyes to devour me the way they are right now.
From the moment I set eyes on him, I’ve loved him, and not in the cute, crush kind of way that’s been insinuated repeatedly over the years.
When I was little, my stomach would flutter and my body would tremble with an awareness of his proximity. I’d become his shadow, annoying my brother and his friends to be close to Owen, but I didn’t care. No matter how many times they ridiculed him, he never made me feel like an inconvenience. As I grew, my feelings only intensified. The flutters became laced in desire, my trembles became quakes at his touch, and every sly glance he gifted me only gave my mind the reassurance I needed.
He’s mine.
My dreams were dedicated to him, my thoughts invaded by him, and my future dictated for him.
I’ve loved him with every fiber of my being, with every beat of my heart, and every breath I take. Owen James Stevens has always been mine; he’s just been too afraid to show it.
Until now.
His eyes bore into me with such reverence it steals my breath from my lungs, causing me to divert my gaze for only a moment, as my eyes are desperate to be back on his handsome face.
His thick thighs cause the fabric of his pants to cling to him, and his white dress shirt is pulled tightly across his shoulders, the top two buttons open, exposing his numerous tattoos, each one symbolic to him. I’ve memorized them over the years, even going as far as to watch him as he sleeps, sneaking photos of his bare chest and spending hours trailing my finger over the delectable photo as if it was real. Always so out of reach, yet always so close, my protector.
His wrist adorns his signature gold Rolex gifted to him by my parents on his twenty-first birthday, and beneath it sits the multicolored woven bracelet I gave him as a gift when I was fourteen.
He drags one of his thick fingers over his sharp jawline as he assesses me, and I chew on my bottom lip, wondering what he’s thinking. Does he have the same lustful thoughts racing through his mind as me, or will he always see me as “Owen’s helper” and a little girl?
Forever forbidden.
I turn to face him, and his gaze roams over my dress. My nipples peak with desperation, begging him to take me, and when he swallows thickly and his eyes fill with lust, I know he wants to do just that.
“Do you like my dress?” My voice comes out breathy, and my pulse races with the heightened tension, waiting for a response that never comes.
He releases a low grunt, and I sigh, knowing that’s all I will get from him. That’s all I ever got from him, never anything more, just the gruff noncommittal noise from somewhere deep in the back of his throat. I spin on my heels to face the mirror again and lift my lipstick as if I didn’t just apply it.
All the while, the heat of his stare radiates from him like a furnace.
He steps up behind me, his chest to my back, and I pause with the lipstick midair.
Then he pushes his hard length against me, forcing my heart to still. “That answer your question?” His gravelly voice sends desire flooding through me, and Jesus, his cock is hard because of me.
I swallow, then he slides his thick hand around my throat, and my entire body freezes, shocked by his commanding touch. His touch a whisper against my skin, but still, it’s there, he’s there, touching me like never before.
The fire in my belly ignites, and a glimmer of the hope I always had sparks, creating a determination like no other.
I want him, and judging by his rock-hard cock digging into my back, he wants me too.
“Owen?”
“Shhh,” he breathes into my neck, trailing his nose into my hair, forcing my heart to race as I watch him in the mirror. His eyes are hooded, his shoulders tense, and a tremble escapes him. That makes me realize how much he’s holding back, and I revel in the thought.
He withdraws a box from his slacks and flips the lid, then pushes my hair to one side. With trembly fingers, he settles a beautiful white-gold necklace around my neck and an emerald pendant falls from it. Emotion overcomes me as my fingers graze over the stone—it’s beautiful.
“You’re beautiful, baby. So fucking beautiful it hurts.” His admission makes my eyes fill with tears. His words, his actions, they’re everything I’ve ever wanted and so, so much more.
He uses his body to cage me in, with one hand on my hip. His eyes are full of craving, his muscles coiled tight, and as his hand moves to cup my jaw, I jolt at his firmer touch. His blue eyes snap to mine as if seeking approval, and I bite into my bottom lip, forcing his focus there. Then his thumb plucks it from between my teeth where he leaves it resting. He slides his thumb back and forth over my lip, and when he swipes the lipstick roughly from my lips, my mouth falls open. Then he brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks on it, our eyes never straying from one another’s.