9. Owen
9
OWEN
She’s sad. My little lamb has such a lost look on her face that it guts me. Something that just meant the world to me has caused her pain.
I rub her back in a soothing circle, trying to ease her hurt. “Too rough?”
“Just right,” she says before reaching up to trace the bitemark on my shoulder with her fingertips. “Are you OK?”
I reassure her that I’m fine even as I catch on to the fact that she’s attempting to redirect my attention. I’ll wait and try to find out what’s bothering her later.
Her stomach growls and I chuckle. “I think it’s time for porridge, Goldilocks.”
Slowly, I pull out of her body only to realize my mistake too late. Way too fuckin’ late.
“We—I didn’t use a condom. But I am clean, and I’ve never had unprotected sex before,” I reassure her.
I don’t want her memory of her first time to be tainted with worries about this. I can’t believe I forgot to wear one. Yeah, I don’t have any here, but I’ve never been so interested in being balls deep that I didn’t have the foresight to even think of one. “If we managed to conceive—”
She stands from the bed, wrapping herself in a sheet. “Don’t worry. Infertility is another fun part of my disease. I have a less than one percent chance of being able to successfully conceive.”
I want to go to her and comfort her, but I don’t know what the fuck to say to that. “I’m not father material.”
Hell, I’m not even good son and brother material. I haven’t talked to my folks in over five years and almost never see my brothers despite the fact that we all live on the same damn mountain.
Family isn’t something I deserve. But even as I think the thought, I’m imagining what Everly would look like with her stomach round with my kid. I’m wondering if we’d have a daughter with her eyes or a son with my nose.
“No one asked you to be father material,” she points out as she reaches for her suitcase. When she bends over, the sheet hugs that heart ass perfectly. Fuck, what I’d give to take her from behind.
“I don’t want to give you false expectations.” I wince the moment the words come from my mouth.
She drops the sheet and turns to me, showing off those lush curves. “I’m just here for some fun. I don’t want this to get heavy.”
Her words should ease my mind, but they don’t. I keep thinking about the sad look she got in bed. Still, I’m not about to make promises that I can’t keep. I’ve never been that type of man.
Everly
I snuggle deeper into Owen and wait for him to finish reading the page. We’re sprawled out across his bed after a late lunch of grilled cheese and soup.
What we’re doing now, reading a book together is probably something a couple would do. Except that we’re not a couple and Owen isn’t interested in becoming one. He made that abundantly clear earlier today.
But even knowing that my heart is going to break when I leave won’t stop me from enjoying our time together. If this is all I’m going to get from my mountain man, then I plan to savor every last moment of it.
He nudges my arm and I flip the page, perfectly content against him. We’re lying in a T-shape with my head on his flat stomach. A heating pad is wrapped around my stomach and pelvis, easing some of my cramps.
Owen said some women experience pain after sex the first time and that it’s completely normal. He was really calm about it which helped because I had started to freak out a little bit.
“You’ve stopped reading.” He plays with my hair, running his fingers through it. “Is the pain getting worse?”
“I’m just lost in thought.” It’s hard not to purr with him touching me like this. I wonder if I’ll be able to find another man I like half as much. Somehow, I doubt it. I think Owen is it for me. He’s my one.
“I can’t promise I can fix it, but I’m willing to listen,” he prompts.
I’ll never see Owen again after this, so it doesn’t matter if I tell him the truth or if he knows my real identity. “My dad is a senator and um, he got arrested. They’re trying to say it’s for fraud. Our home has been searched and everyone online is saying that he’s guilty. But my dad is an honest man.”
He reaches for my hand, uncurling my fingers and pressing kisses to my palm where my nails dug into it. “You’re hurting yourself, lamb.”
“It’s a shitshow and my uncle sent me here to ride it out.” I let out a sigh. “I wish I could do something. Have you ever felt helpless to change something horrible that was happening?”
“I have,” there’s a gritty note to Owen’s voice that wasn’t there earlier.
“Then you know how I feel,” I whisper.
He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “The truth will win out. Your dad will be vindicated.”
I don’t answer him. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the world of politics, it’s that by the time the truth comes out, no one is interested in hearing it anymore.
“Let’s have some fun together,” he says.
“What do you think?” I ask Owen as I show him my latest creation. He’s been teaching me about woodworking. He’s trying to keep me busy, so I don’t spend too much time thinking about my dad.
“It’s beautiful,” he reassures me, kissing my temple. He’s been sitting on one of the tables, just watching me make this. I thought maybe he’d get bored of doing that at some point, but he observed me all morning.
The wooden wind chime probably has a thousand things wrong with it that I’m not experienced enough yet to see. But still, getting to stay in the woodshop and build new things each day has been fun.
This is the first project that I did completely on my own. It took me two days and a lot of cussing. I had to ask for Owen’s advice a couple of times. He steered me back on course without taking over the project. I love that he gives me the tools and freedom to make my own decisions. That’s not something my dad and uncle have ever done for me.
“I like it too.” I turn toward him and press a kiss to his jaw. There’s a spot here that drives him wild. It’s been six days since I’ve arrived at his cabin and I’m pretty sure the snow is starting to melt enough that I could leave if I really wanted to. Except that’s the problem. I don’t want to go.
When I find that spot, Owen lets out a slow groan. We’ve had sex every day since the first time. He always makes it good for me, always takes care of me first.
“I’m done working now.” I like when he’s sitting down. It puts us at roughly the same height and makes it easy for me to touch him. “Maybe we could go back into the house and do something else.”
He slips a hand under my shirt and caresses my breasts. “And what would this something else be?”
I arch into his touch. It doesn’t matter that we keep doing it. I always want more of Owen. I want his hands on my body constantly. “Maybe mutual exploration?”
He nips at my ear lobe at the same time he pinches my nipple. I gasp at the mix of pain and pleasure. He always knows how to put me in just enough pain to make it so damn good.
I call his name in a moan. I’ve learned that there’s a certain needy tone that he can’t resist. Before I can even blink, he’s scooping me up into his strong arms with a growl that seems to come from every part of him. “I’ve warned you about what happens.”
He grabs a coat, tossing it over me because he’s too impatient to wait for me to slip into it. I don’t blame him. I feel the same way.
Inside the house, Owen wrings orgasm after orgasm from my body. His desperate need to see my pleasure is written all over his face.
When I collapse against him, I press kisses to his chest. I’m straddling his hips, my center only inches from his cock. He’s taken care of me, ignoring his own body’s needs. But now, it’s his turn. I want him to feel just as amazing as he makes me feel. “What do you want?”
Before he can answer, there’s a loud, insistent knock on the front door. We exchange a look and Owen slides me off of his body.
“Stay here,” he commands, pushing to his feet. He grabs his jeans from the floor and slips into them.
“Wait,” I say before he can leave the room. “Don’t you want a weapon?”
He quirks an eyebrow at me. “Baby, I am the weapon.”