24. Owen
Delia was kissing me.
Ho-ly fucking shit, Delia Delatou was kissing me .
I was so shocked I’d barely pursed my lips to meet hers, readying to fucking consume her, when she pulled away, hand flying to her mouth.
“Oh my god,” she said through her fingers, cheeks going pink. “I’m so sorry. Forget I did that.”
She pressed her palm against my chest, pushing away, but I caught her by the wrist before she could get too far, dragging her back into an embrace. My fingers dove into her hair, grabbing a fistful at the nape of her neck, the other hand sliding down her side and around her back to grip a handful of her ass.
That glorious ass that continued to haunt my dreams, ever since the day she’d fallen off that ladder.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I—” she started, voice low. “You didn’t kiss me back.”
“You surprised me,” I said. “It won’t happen again. ”
The promise in my tone had her eyes turning molten in a second, and as soon as a smile began to tip the corners of that plush mouth up, I captured it with my own.
God, she was sweeter than I ever could’ve dreamed, and the chaste press of my lips against hers turned explicit and insistent in a second. Delia’s fingers curled into the front of my dress shirt, dragging me closer still, until not even a grain of sand could fit between us. Her tongue slid along the seam of my mouth, teasing, and I opened for her, our tongues tangling in a sloppy, desperate dance. In that way you kissed when you couldn’t get enough of someone and all finesse went out the window. Maintaining sense gave way to chasing sensation. My world narrowed to those points: the sharp sting of her nails digging into my pecs; the bite of her teeth against my bottom lip; the heavy curtain of her hair like silk against my forearm; her perfect backside in my palm.
This kiss was the culmination of our mutual longing. It was the dam finally breaking, the chains unlocked, the vault door on our desire opened wide at last.
My cock thickened between us, and Delia shifted her hips slightly, tilting toward me, as though desperately seeking the friction I couldn’t give her with so many layers between us.
Regrettably, I removed a hand from her glorious body to dive into my pants’ pocket and withdraw my room key. I reached around her, blindly holding the card out toward the door. A moment later, the faint beep and click of the lock permeated my senses, and I pressed down on the handle, walking us backward into the room. Finally claiming Delia had me wanting to shout from rooftops and mountain peaks that this woman was mine . I couldn’t be bothered to tear my mouth from hers for even a second, but I needed to get us out of that hallway. To get her alone where I could strip her down and worship her.
Once inside my room, I spun us so her back was against the door. When she reached for my belt, I gripped her wrists in my hand and pinned them above her head. Delia whimpered into my mouth, and the sound was nearly my undoing. I needed her skin under my lips, couldn’t resist dipping to her neck. I sucked on the skin at her pulse, soothing the sting of my teasing bite with my tongue. Licking a path up the slender column of her throat and nipping at her jaw, her earlobe.
I buried my face in the crook of her neck and inhaled, branding every minute detail and sensation of this moment onto my memory. The surreality that I finally had this woman in my arms wasn’t lost on me.
“Fuck, Whiskey,” I breathed. “You’ve been driving me crazy for months. Do you have any idea how badly I want you?”
“Probably about as badly as I want you,” she said, her statement punctuated by a gasp when I palmed her chest, cupping those gorgeous tits in my hands and thumbing her nipples, peaked against the fabric.
My fingertips trailed lower, dancing down her sides. Gripping a handful of her dress, I yanked it up, intent on exploring all the uncharted territory beneath. God, I couldn’t wait to delve into her pu—
“Wait,” Delia gasped, hands coming to rest on my pecs. She didn’t push me away, but I stalled like a deer caught in headlights.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Am I groping you? Shit, I’m sorry.”
“No, nothing like that,” she said, laughing lightly. I had difficulty focusing on her words, too distracted by her lips, bee stung by my kisses. “I just…don’t get mad at me, but I don’t want to do this here.”
“Do what? Kiss me?”
“I love kissing you,” she whispered. “I mean…what comes next.” She gritted her teeth, and I yielded a step, using the distance to study her expression. “I don’t want to, for lack of a better term, consummate this thing between us here.”
“But why ?” I asked, genuinely incredulous.
Delia gave me a sad smile, and I mentally reeled myself in. I wanted her so badly I could barely think straight. I needed to hear her making those breathy, gasping sounds into my mouth. To have her digging her nails into my hair with my face between her thighs. But if she was saying no, then that wasn’t happening.
At least, not tonight.
Now that I’d had a taste, I needed the whole fucking meal. I’d do anything she wanted to get it, including pumping the brakes.
“We’re drunk, Owen,” she reminded me, tilting her head to press a kiss to the underside of my jaw. “And when we fuck for the first time, it’s not going to be a rushed, one-night-in-a-hotel hookup. When we fuck for the first time, Owen Lawless”—she tiptoed her fingers down my chest and abdomen promisingly, though she stopped well short of my waistband—“we will be spending days in bed.”
I bent to nuzzle her neck, inhaling a deep breath of the perfume that lingered on her skin. I wanted to get lost right here, in her, but I made myself pull away after stamping her scent on my memory. Instead of hiking her dress up around her waist, hauling her into my arms, and sliding my fingers deep in her pussy, I linked my hand with hers. Lifting it to my mouth, I pressed a kiss to the back, then wordlessly opened the door and escorted her out.
When we reached her door, I faced her. “Sure you don’t want to at least spend the night with me? Sleep only , scout’s honor,” I said, raising three fingers.
Delia shook her head with a giggle. “You’re too tempting.”
I dropped a kiss on her forehead. “The feeling is mutual, Whiskey,” I said with a wink when I pulled back. I gave her hand a squeeze, then let go. “Good night.”
“Good night, QB.”
In the week that followed our trip to New York, I quickly realized I should’ve tried harder to get Delia to spend the night with me there. Upon touching back down on Michigan soil, we were both so busy with other shit that we barely saw each other in passing, much less had time to spend days in bed, as Delia had promised.
By the end of that week, I’d had enough. I was edgy and irritable, and the people around me were starting to take notice.
Namely, my best friend.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Cal asked that Friday morning.
We were seated in my office, going over financial projections for the holiday season. Or, rather, Cal was trying to do that. My mind was a thousand miles away, or however far away Delia was from me at that moment .
“I kissed Delia,” I blurted. “In New York. Well, she kissed me first, and then we started making out right there in the hallway.”
“What hallway?”
“At the hotel, dipshit,” I said. “I drop all of that on you, and that’s the part you latch onto?”
“Sorry,” Cal said. “I’m just…surprised? But also not? You guys have been dancing around each other for months. Honestly, it’s about time.”
Somehow needing that reassurance from a man who was already inextricably linked to the Delatou family, I found myself relaxing with Cal’s words. “How do you think Amara is going to feel about it?”
Cal scoffed. “Why would she care? Whatever you guys had was over ages ago. We’re happy, and now it’s your turn.”
I grinned. “Thanks, man.”
“So what’s the problem, then?” he asked. “Obviously something is bugging you.”
“Major case of blue balls,” I admitted. “We didn’t take things further than kissing in New York because…well, the why isn’t important. But we’ve been back for a week and I’ve hardly seen her, much less had the chance to get her alone.”
“So call her. Ask her on a date. It’s Friday afternoon, you’re the boss, and she works for herself. Make the time right now.”
I considered that only briefly before realizing Cal was right, and that it truly was that simple. Before I’d even made a move to reach for my phone, Cal was collecting his things and shooting me a hasty “goodbye” over his shoulder as he disappeared.
Delia answered on the first ring.
“Hey, stranger. ”
I smiled, her voice a balm to my frayed nerves. “Hey yourself. What’re you up to?”
“I was actually just about to call you,” she said. “I’ve got some mood boards for the distillery decor made up, and I wanted to run my ideas by you.”
“That’s perfect,” I said. “Because I’ve been dying to see you all week.”
“You have, huh?” she asked, tone suggestive.
“Yes. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you started in New York, missy,” I said playfully. “So I was calling to beg you to let me take you on a proper date.”
“Why?”
“I figured I should feed you before I break your back.”
Delia barked out a surprised laugh. “Let’s get business out of the way first,” she said. “Where do you want to meet?”
“How about The Locker Room?”
“Why not your office?”
“Because too many people interrupt me here. The Overtime building is closed right now, so I can have you all to myself.”
“I like the sound of that,” Delia said. “See you in like twenty?”
“Perfect. Drive safe.”
“Will do,” she said, then the line went dead.
She showed up with a massive black bag dangling from her arm, weighed down with I didn’t even want to know what.
Women and their purses , I thought with an eye roll.
Still, I welcomed her with a chaste but lingering kiss to her cheek, then directed her to one of the booths at the side of the room, scooting in next to her.
She withdrew her laptop, fired it up, and navigated to some software that held a slideshow of her work on the so-called mood boards.
“You’ve been busy,” I mused, impressed.
“Lots of excess energy,” she said, smirking at me.
“I would’ve happily taken care of that for you, you know.”
“You offering sex this time, QB? Or are you going to put me through another hellish work out?”
I scoffed. “It wasn’t hellish . Admit it, you loved it.”
“I loved seeing you shirtless and sweaty.”
“Just say the word, Whiskey.”
She shoved me playfully then settled her fingers on the keys of her laptop. “Work first.”
“Play later?” I quipped.
She ignored me, instead launching into her presentation.
“What happened to all of this stuff being too pretentious this far north?” I asked when she finished speaking, gesturing to the higher end finishes and luxury fabrics. Honestly, it reminded me of that place we went to in New York. I loved it, but I was confused.
“I meant the plans for the exterior,” she said with a sigh. “Inside, luxury is fine. Encouraged, even. We want warm and cozy and inviting, but also masculine and sexy. We want rustic but we don’t want people to feel like they’re in some shoddy cabin in the woods.”
“And why do we want all of that?” I was genuinely curious, especially given the stink she’d put up about the facade in that meeting with Clarke.
“To give people an experience. Your name is synonymous with wealth and fame, right? The club and Birdie’s are part of that brand, and this will be too. We want people to feel rich and celebrated when they come through those doors, even if they’re in the middle of nowhere, Michigan.”
“I’m not sure…” I said, eyes sweeping over her collages.
I mean, honestly—velvet? In a distillery? She couldn’t be serious.
“I need you to trust me on this, QB,” she said, bracing her hands on her hips. “I know what I’m doing.”
“I do trust you,” I assured her, and I meant it. Despite my protestations, I could admit I didn’t know shit about interior design. If this was what she wanted, this was what she’d get. “And if this is the direction you want to go, then we’re in agreement.”
She narrowed her eyes on me. “Just like that?”
I shrugged. “Just like that. We’re partners, and I can admit my expertise doesn’t exactly apply to design concepts.”
Delia grinned, delighted. “Thank you.”
“Now…is it time to play yet?”
She giggled and smacked my chest. “You’re insatiable.”
“Only for you. When are you going to let me kiss you again?”
I couldn’t fight it anymore. These months of dancing around this attraction between us, the sample of her sweet mouth I’d gotten in New York—it’d all driven me mad.
I wanted her, and while I had every intention of wining and dining her first, the caveman in my chest was screaming at me to claim her now .
Delia raised a brow. “What happened to feeding me first?”
“It’s only a kiss,” I said.
“‘Only a kiss,’” she scoffed. “You know kisses are gateway drugs.”
“Yours certainly are.” Delia’s cheeks pinked, and I grinned. “Tell you what, Whiskey. You beat me in a game of pool, and we’ll postpone the kiss until later. But if I win, I’m taking it here and now.”
“That’s it? Win a game of pool and we kiss at a time and place of my choosing?”
“That’s it.”
She extended her hand, and I took it in mine, shaking on our deal.
Unsurprisingly, I wiped the table with her, finishing her off in only three turns. Both times I’d lost my turn only because she distracted me by running her hands up and down her thighs, toying with the hem of her skirt and lifting it higher and higher. My mind had blanked, muscle memory deserting me.
I almost felt bad. Not for winning—I was, at my core, a fierce competitor—but because Delia was so bad. Later, I’d teach her how to play.
As she put our cues back, I headed for the doors, first the one to the street, where I also hung a “closed for private party” sign, then the one to the bar upstairs, flipping the locks on both of them.
“What’re you doing?” Delia asked as I was turning the deadbolt on the door to upstairs.
“Taking my reward,” I said as I faced her again.
“And we need the door locked for that?”
Anticipation thickened the air around us as I stalked toward her and backed her against the rail of the pool table, my hands resting by her hips, bracketing her in.
“Did you notice I didn’t specify where I was going to kiss you? ”
Delia’s breath hitched. “I just assumed you meant my mouth.”
I slowly licked my lips.
“I didn’t.”
“Then what’s the sign for?” she asked, breathless.
I splayed my palm over the front of her throat, my thumb notching under her jaw and tipping her head back. “We both know we’re not stopping at a kiss. And no one but me is going to hear you screaming my name as I pleasure you, Whiskey. No one gets to watch me fuck you until you come so hard you see stars, and I’m not risking being interrupted.”
“Promises, promises,” she said, though her shaky tone belied the attempt at bravado.
“This is your chance to back out. If you don’t want this, we can leave now and pretend it never happened, but…”
“But what?” she prompted.
I could feel it in the air then. Some big, momentous shift was coming. My next words would change everything. We’d dabbled before, flirted with the idea of giving us a go. But this? This was uncharted territory, a life-altering leap off a cliff.
“I’ve wanted you for weeks. Months . If I kiss you right now, there’s no going back. There’s no stopping, no waiting until later. If I kiss you right now, you’re mine. And I promise,” I said, dropping my voice low and bending until my lips brushed her ear, “if you let me have you, I will make it so fucking good for you.”
I felt more than saw the shiver pass through her, as though the air between us had suddenly electrified and zapped her skin. I felt like that too, like a live wire ready to spark.
Delia pulled away, staring into my eyes. “What if I don’t want you?”
My heart stopped dead in my chest, though my mind kicked into overdrive. Had things changed for her in the last week? Was that why I’d hardly seen her? A thousand insecurities ran through my brain, memories surfacing of women who only wanted me until they had me. Who preferred the chase to everything that happened after. Had I only been projecting my feelings on her, hoping she’d reciprocate? Had last weekend been an anomaly brought on by endless sparkling wine and forced proximity?
“You don’t?” I asked tentatively.
Her expression remained serious a beat longer before a slow smile unfurled, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Please, QB. Have you seen yourself? Of course I want you.”
I exhaled in a whoosh and bent to nip at her neck. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“I’m good for you,” she said, placing a hand over my racing heart. “Gotta keep you young.”
I grinned and cupped her cheeks. “You are good for me. And now I’m going to be so fucking good to you.”
“Do your worst.”
My mouth was on hers before the words were fully out.
Against her lips I said, “Nah, Whiskey. You’ll get my best. You’ll get everything.”
“Everything?” she asked.
“All of it,” I confirmed, peeling away to stare into her eyes, hoping I conveyed everything I meant with those three words. For good measure, though, I added four more. “Mind, body, and soul.”