Chapter 18 #2
He smirked. “I can count on one hand how many times I’ve worn a suit.”
“You should do it more often.”
“Hard to fight bad guys in this get-up.” His eyes crinkled at the edges with another hint of a smile.
“Yeah, I can’t imagine trying to do anything in this dress.” She released his tie and glanced down at her outfit.
“You look stunning, by the way.” He brushed the pad of his thumb over her bare shoulder and up the column of her throat. “More than words can describe, actually.”
“Thank you.” Her cheeks warmed, and she started to turn, not sure how she’d remain standing so close to him, but a hand on her arm stopped her. She twisted back to face him. “Are you sure you don’t need to be with your team, planning?”
“I’m where I need to be.” He angled his head slightly, and his gaze drifted down the length of her dress before slowly returning to her face.
“We have an hour to kill, and since we’re both already dressed—any ideas what we should do? We can’t go gallivanting around the hotel and getting into trouble, so . . .”
“No gallivanting?” He cracked a smile. “Damn it. You chucked my plans out the window.”
She couldn’t help but grin. “I have one idea.” It was a crazy, stupid idea.
Probably. Maybe. Or maybe not? “I think I got dressed too early.” Her red lips rolled inward briefly as he held her eyes.
“This thing isn’t that comfortable.” Her heart raced in her chest as she slowly turned, offering him her back.
“Would you mind getting the zipper for me?”
What am I doing?
Her eyes shut when the dress parted and slid down her body. The thick material gathered around her ankles, her strappy heels now hidden.
His finger slid beneath the thin strap of her thong before cupping her ass, and a pulse of desire burned through her at his touch. “No bra?”
“The dress has a built-in bra. Don’t worry, the world doesn’t need to see my nipples poking through a gown.”
“Mm. Good call.”
She stepped out of her dress and faced him.
Owen rubbed at his cheek as he observed her, from her toes up to her eyes. “Do friends have sex, by any chance?”
Friends? The conversation on Monday in the basement of the FBI building seemed to have taken place a month ago. “I don’t think they’re supposed to.” She pinched her brows together. “And we probably shouldn’t, but I could die tonight, and so—”
“Don’t say that.” He maneuvered around the material on the floor and reached for her arm, gently guiding her closer to him. “I can’t have sex with you because you’re afraid you might die tonight.” A gritty edge to his voice had her blinking a few times.
Her eyes cut to his as she decided to bare the truth. “And what if I told you that was just an excuse, so I didn’t seem so crazy for wanting you at a time like this?”
The crease in his forehead disappeared, and his lips twitched at the edges.
“I thought we already established at your apartment the other day we’re both pretty damn nuts.
So”—he reached between their bodies, his hand unexpectedly shifting the tiny strip of fabric out of the way—“if you want me because we’re both a little crazy . . . I could work with that.”
Her eyes rolled upward before closing as he caressed her sensitive flesh with his thumb, and she nearly stumbled into his body at his continued touch.
“I must seem like some sex-starved woman.” She arched her hips, the desire for him to be inside of her dulling her thoughts.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he said with a laugh. “A woman like you deserves to be pleasured all day long.” His tone was deep and breathy as if he were hanging on the edge as much as she was.
“I don’t know about that, but we have an hour.
” And maybe she was afraid tonight would be her last time, but it wasn’t because she truly thought she’d die—no, she trusted Owen would keep her safe .
. . she was just nervous Owen would be gone from her life when this was over; she was afraid that this could be their last time together.
He retracted his hand and stepped back, absorbing the sight of her. “I’d give anything to have the entire night with you, but I can’t be greedy, I suppose.” He flung his tie to the floor and slowly began working at the buttons of his starched black shirt.
Her thumb went between her teeth as she hungrily eyed his flexing muscles as he removed the fabric. His abdominal muscles seemed to tighten as he unbuckled his black belt, and his heated stare had her lungs filling with air. She released her breath once he was fully naked.
He was hard as a rock as he stepped around his clothes and scooped her into his arms. He gave her a quick kiss on their way to the bedroom.
She kept her arms slung around his neck, feeling safe there, feeling like she belonged to him.
A pinch of sadness tried to brush inside of her, light strokes at first, before a harder knot curled tight in her stomach. Not from guilt this time—but from the sudden fear that she could lose him someday, even if they only remained friends. She could lose him the way she’d lost Brad.
When he set her on the bed, he sank to his knees before her, his fingers skating up the insides of her legs and to her panties. She braced herself against his shoulders as he removed the last bit of clothing she wore, tossing the thong—and with the panties went her thoughts.
She needed to survive tonight and make sure no one died on her watch, and so, she’d have to worry about her feelings tomorrow.
Right now, all she needed to worry about was how he made her feel in the moment—complete.
“Keep on the heels.” He planted sucking kisses to the inside of her thighs before his mouth found her center, and it had her falling back onto the bed. He grabbed hold of her legs and pulled her closer to him.
“Owen,” she whisper-cried his name as her back arched off the bed.
“Come for me,” he demanded.
Her core clenched. “It’s . . . too . . . soon.” Her breathing became ragged as she fought the compulsion to give in to him.
“I’m going to get you off again. Don’t worry.” His words were like vibrations against her skin, and his facial hair teased her sensitive area. “Come for me, Sam.”
Her body tensed, and she moaned and grunted as her fingertips clawed at the comforter.
Owen’s lips lazily dragged north to her belly button.
She lifted onto her elbows, noticing a satisfied smile on his face once he was on the bed with her.
“Thirty seconds,” she mumbled, dropping her head back onto the bed. “You got me off way too fast. Not fair.”
He held his body above her. “And I also got you nice and wet for me, so it’ll feel better for you while I’m inside of you for the next hour.”
Her stomach banded tight at his words. “An hour?”
He winked and slowly lowered as if he were doing a push-up, his lips hovering above hers. “The last time was angry sex. This time, I want it to be . . .”
He let his words hang in the air for her to decipher.
“Do you still hate me?” She lifted her chest a little, so her nipples touched his muscled body.
His brow furrowed, an expression of intensity sweeping across his face. “I could never really hate you.”
She brought her legs into the air, locking them around his hips, connecting her heels at the ankles to hold on tight. “Good, because I sure as hell don’t hate you,” she whispered, and he plunged deep inside of her, making her forget what was about to go down tonight.