CHAPTER EIGHT
Brett
One Year Ago
Bowen has a way of talking that makes time slow down, like everything moves with the cadence of his voice. He also never runs out of things to talk about. So much so that it feels like I already know him, like I planned to meet him here all along.
I might’ve taken him up on his offer to crawl into his tent and spend the night with him at the campsite, but having met his entire family just hours before, I can’t imagine staggering out of his tent the next morning to face everyone over some scrambled eggs and bacon.
His truck is blocked in by the other vehicles, so he offers to walk me back to the lodge instead. I’m not thrilled about that, either, but it seems like the best option with the least amount of embarrassment.
Bowen glances over his shoulder at me as I trudge up the path behind him, “Are you tired?”
There’s something so calming about the combination of wood smoke and nighttime air. I love it. But I don’t love trekking all the way back across the park to my room. Most of the cabins are dark now, with a couple fires still flickering along the lake and along the edge of the woods.
“No,” I sigh as we trudge up the hill, “I just forgot how long of a walk it is.”
Bowen hooks his fingers in the crook of my elbow and we slow to a halt, “Here,” he says, reaching around my back and bending down.
In one fluid motion, he hooks his arm behind my knees and lifts me into the air, starting up the hill again. I clasp my hands together on the other side of his neck, grinning at his profile. My feet dangle in mid-air, swinging back and forth as he walks. I assume he’ll put me down when we arrive at the lodge, but he hits the automatic door button with his elbow and continues inside and across the lobby without a care, then hits the elevator button with his elbow and waits.
When the door opens, he stepped inside and turns to me, his nose almost touching mine, “Floor?”
I reach down with one hand and press the number two button.
When the doors open again, he steps off and glances to the right and then to the left, “Which way, sweetheart?”
I extend my left arm along the top of his shoulder and point, “Left. 232.”
Bowen turns sharply and strides down the hallway toward the far end of the wing, glancing at the numbers on each door as he goes until we reach mine, “Do you have your key?”
Bowen waits patiently while I dig the key card out of my shorts. And when the lock clicks, I turn the handle and push the door open. He angles to the side and slides his shoulder along the door, opening it the rest of the way so he can step into the room. I listen as the door slowly swings shut and, finally, I hear the latch click.
“Thanks,” I say into his ear, catching a whiff of his spearmint gum.
“Like I said,” Bowen gently lowers me to the floor, “I’ll get you home in one piece.”
I bend down to kick off my shoes and, suddenly, the sharp aroma of burnt hickory hits my nose. It’s much more pronounced now that I’m back in my room with clean linens and the lingering smell of cleaner.
“I smell like campfire.”
Bowen leans down and presses his cheek against mine, inhaling the flood of curls cascading over my shoulder. A shot of dopamine shoots through me at the feel of skin against mine, but when I rotate my head slightly, he moves to the left and presses his nose into the shoulder of my sweatshirt.
“Yep,” he says, lifting his head, “you’re pretty charred.”
Before I can respond, Bowen reaches up and slowly begins unzipping my hoodie. And I let him, because I wish he’d kept his face pressed against mine. Leaving my hoodie open, he grasps each side and leans down, pulling me closer.
He presses his nose to my collarbone and inhales my t-shirt, “This one’s still clean,” he murmurs.
He lingers for a few moments, but as soon as he lifts his head, I cock my head, eyeing him, “Tall,” I state.
Bowen furrows his brow at me in confusion.
“I didn’t finish telling you about my type,” I explain, “tall, with dark hair and intense eyes, but he has the most beautiful smile.” Bowen shifts his stance and leans his shoulder against the wall as I continue. “He likes to be outside, and he’s kind of an asshole,” I shrug, “but he tells good stories.”
Bowen bites his bottom lip, “Sounds like a real charmer. ”
“Anyway,” I glance back into my empty room, “thanks for calling the wrong number last night.”
“My pleasure,” Bowen nods. “So, did you get it out of your system?”
“Get what out of my system?”
He motions to the door behind him, “All that out there where you let me take you on a hike, talk sweet to you, we get to know each other, and then you meet my entire family so you can convince yourself I’m a good guy you can invite into your room.”
Whoa.
I squint up at him, “ Are you a good guy?”
But he doesn’t miss a beat, “Do you want me to be a good guy?” Bowen doesn’t wait for me to answer before he pushes off the wall, searching my face as he tries to read me, “I’ll be good to you. ” He looks me up and down, his pupils dilated so his brown eyes looked like pools of glossy ink, “That’s all that matters, right?”
That’s all that matters.
He’s so close that I have to tilt my head back to look up at him, “So, was all of that out there real or just for show?”
“Oh, it was real,” he nods, “but now I want to be done with niceties and show you what it’s really like to be with me.”
Goosebumps skitter across my back and down my arms as I realize the Bowen that carried me so gently out of the nighttime shadows and up to my room is gone. In his place is something more akin to a beast that’s waiting to be fed. And I’m glad this Bowen decided to come out to play.
He leans down, “Hope you don’t have neighbors tonight,” he whispers as he reaches behind his back and flips the swing bar shut over the door.
Bowen glances over my shoulder and then tips his chin, motioning to the dim room behind me, lit only by the glow of the lamp next to the bed. The corner of my mouth twitches with amusement as I take a step backward, and then another. His eyes remain locked on mine as I move deeper into the room, him following at the same pace until he comes to a stop just in front of me.
He reaches over his shoulders and pulls both his hoodie and t-shirt over his head in one go, revealing a set of shoulders and traps that nearly buckle my knees. His jeans hang low on his hips, but pieces of another tattoo peek out from beneath his black leather belt. Ribbons of ink curl up over each hip before dipping back down out of sight. Another block of black script is tattooed beneath his chest, curving around the right side of his rib cage, but I can’t read it.
When I take another step back, my ass hits the edge of the dresser, “Why did you take me to meet your entire family?” I ask as he comes closer.
A wicked grin creeps across Bowen’s face, “I like to try things on for size before I decide to keep them,” he reaches up and hooks the hem of my t- shirt in his fingers, dragging it up over my head and tossing my hair over one shoulder.
“Do I fit?” I ask, peering up at him.
Bowen plants his hands on the dresser on either side of me, “You fit in with them as soon as you said hello,” then he leans in close, “and I’ve already decided I’m not leaving this room until you fit me . Or do I need to talk sweet to you some more?”
My core clenches, his voice is so intoxicating. It’s irresistibly sweet until it’s too late, and before you know it, you’re totally wrecked.
I reach up and take his chin in the crook of my thumb, “What if I didn’t want you to be sweet to begin with?”
I feel him smile just before his mouth consumes mine, and he tastes just as good as I thought he would. Pressing my hips into the dresser, he tilts my head back, running his mouth over my throat as he unsnaps my grey lace bra. He lets it fall from my arms and pulls me against him, drawing a split-second moan from me as soon as I feel the warmth of his chest against my skin.
“Then you sound like my kind of girl,” Bowen grins before suddenly grabbing my hips and spinning me around to face the mirror.
Before I can pitch forward, he wraps one arm around my torso and slides his other hand over my shorts and down the crease of my hip. I sink back against his chest, dopamine flooding my brain while he leers at my reflection. He presses his cheek against my temple and hooks his thumb in the waistband of my shorts, slowly pulling them down past my hips. As soon as they hit the floor, he grabs the back of my thigh and hikes my knee onto the top of the dresser.
Bowen gazes at my reflection, his hand tracing the same path over my chest and stomach as his eyes. But as soon as I feel his hand come to a stop over my ribcage, I sober and my jaw tightens, knowing exactly what’s drawing his gaze. He gently runs his middle finger over a thin, six-inch scar that runs arrow straight horizontally beneath my left breast.
“What happened to you, baby girl?” he murmurs in my ear.
I silently cringe at his words before telling him what I’ve told everyone else, what I’ve tried to trick myself into believing after repeating it long enough.
“I cut myself on a nail in a fence.”
It’s plausible, at least enough to placate anyone who asks. And it seems to satisfy Bowen.
My breath catches as he leaves my scar and slides his hand down my stomach and between my legs. All I can look at are his black eyes burning a hole in my reflection.
“What are you smiling at,” he smirks when he feels how wet I am, “this goddamn mess you’re making?” That thick drawl of his could lay me out on its own .
My breaths get heavier, giving way to a moan as he runs his fingers back and forth over my slick skin. I feel drunk, every word hitting me like a double shot as I roll my hips against his hand. I’m losing my damn mind with each passing second, feeling my own cum drip down my thigh as he starts circling my clit.
“Faster…” I whimper as I writhe against him.
I can barely see straight. My nails dig into Bowen’s arm clamped so tight around my torso that I can barely breathe. But the tighter he holds me, the more he becomes the drug I want at all costs. That feeling—the one I’ve been trying to suppress—starts clawing its way out; I want to fight against him, but I hope he never lets me go.
“You like that, baby girl?” he murmurs in my ear as the orgasm starts to build.
I draw in a shaky breath and my body tenses, but then, without warning, he stills his hand and lets it fall away from me. My eyes fly open and I see him smiling back at my bewildered reflection, running his tongue along the back of his teeth with amusement.
After a few moments, he leans down, his lips brushing my ear, “Then ask for it nicely,” he whispers.
I should be outraged, but at that moment, Bowen could’ve asked me to go drain the lake by hand and I’d have run off to find a bucket. Instead, I slide my leg off the dresser and slowly turn around. I give him a gentle push in the chest and step around him, my bare feet moving silently across the thin carpet. I crawl onto the bed and turn around, kneeling at the edge, then motion for him to come closer with a curl of my finger.
As soon as Bowen gets close enough, I reach out and hook my fingers over the waist of his jeans, pulling him to me. Suppressing a smile, I start unbuckling his belt. I’m going to find out what he has tattooed where no one can see…
When I pop the button and the zipper on his jeans free, he reaches up with both hands and runs his fingers up my neck and into my hair. I hesitate, curling at the feel of his fingertips on my scalp as he combs his fingers over the base of my skull. Letting out a breath, my fingers hook over both his jeans and boxer briefs, tugging them down over his hips in one impatient motion.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Below Bowen’s navel is an impressively realistic tattoo of three snarling dog heads that fill the space between the V of his hips. The swirling black and grey ink framing them stretch across his lower abdomen and curl up over his hips. I recognize it immediately as Cerberus, the three-headed dog from Greek mythology who guards the underworld. Shadows of black and grey undulate across his pelvis, detailing each dog’s unique face and coalescing into one set of shoulders and front legs whose claws extend toward each of his thighs .
As if this isn’t enough, Bowen’s tattoo isn’t the only impressive thing drawing my attention to his lower body. My hand slides up his thigh to fist the base of his cock, hard and at attention. I begin stroking him up and down, still marveling at his tattoo. I don’t even care if he sees me gawking at him.
He rolls his head across his shoulders with a low groan, sending a heatwave through my stomach and making my entire groin ache. The things I’d do for him right now are profane. And I think he knows it.
“Bowen?” I slowly stroke his cock at my shoulder, rolling my head with the movement of his hands.
He glances down at me, “Yeah, baby?”
I run my tongue up the underside of his shaft, “Will you make me come now,” I close my mouth over his tip and slide his cock over my tongue to the back of my throat, his hand clenching my hair tighter the further I go. Slowly, I slide him back out and continue stroking him at my shoulder, “ Please? ”
Bowen tips my head back, continuing to knead my scalp and weave my hair in and out of his fingers, “Lay down and spread your legs for me.”
Finally...
With a sigh, I sink down onto the bed and let my knees fall open to show him the dripping mess he’s created. His mouth opens slightly and his chest heaves as he kneels down onto the mattress in front of me, lodging his knees against my thighs. Sitting back on his heels, he gazes down at me, scanning my entire body until his eyes find their way back to mine.
Then Bowen reaches down and starts to slowly stroke his cock from base to tip, “Touch yourself,” he commands.
“What—” A chill runs down my spine all the way to my tailbone, making my torso tighten with excitement.
“Show me how you want me to make you come,” he rakes his teeth over his bottom lip, “get me ready to fuck the hell out of that pretty little pussy.”
I could melt into the bed right now, a pile of useless limbs dumbstruck by his energy alone. I’ll do anything to satisfy that hungry look in his eyes.
Suddenly, Bowen drops down, planting one hand next to my shoulder and seizing me under the jaw with the other, “And don’t you dare make yourself come.”
I should probably be freaked out, but I’m not. Because he feels…familiar.
His eyes follow my hand as it travels down the inside of my thigh. He gently releases my head, straightening back up as I push one finger into my pussy, coating it before sliding it back up to my clit to rub circles over my glistening skin.
“Is this what you do,” I breathe, watching him fist his cock again, “find strange girls to run around the woods with and then sneak back to their rooms? ”
“I do like the woods…” Bowen doesn’t take his eyes off my hand, “but I don’t need to sneak anywhere,” he glances up, flashing me a smile, “that’s why I took you home to show everyone my new fetish.”
The pulse in my core gets stronger the longer he watches me, pushing me closer to the edge. But I feel my muscles tense and stop right before the rush hits me, just like he wants. Bowen mouths expletives I can’t hear, his shoulder muscles pulsing as he slowly works his cock, my movements making him harder and harder.
“How often do you do that—” my skin is so wet I can barely feel the friction anymore, “find a new fetish?”
Bowen gives a shake of his head, “Almost never,” he murmurs as he strokes hard and slow, his breaths deep and steady.
Maybe he’s a liar, but it doesn’t matter right now. I can’t focus on anything else except the tension building. Finally, it’s too much and my hand stills again, letting the rush fade away in frustration.
Bowen caresses the inside of my thigh, “One more time, baby girl,” he whispers salaciously.
“ Fuck, Bowen,” I whimper, dragging my arm across my face, “ please... ”
“You have good manners for such a dirty whore,” he smirks.
With a smile wicked as sin, he watches me bring myself to the edge again. My body contracts and my hips roll in waves as I let my hand fall to the side, letting the rush dissipate. The energy radiates down my legs as I toss my head from side to side, languishing in an excruciating, half-conscious state.
Bowen leans off the bed and grabs his jeans to dig something out of the pocket. He straightens back up and tears a condom wrapper open with his teeth, blowing the shred of plastic out of his mouth. Seconds later, the mattress sinks down and I finally feel his body against mine.
Combing his fingers up the back of my hair again, he tilts my head so he can taste every inch of my throat. I wrap one leg around his waist, pulling him closer, the weight of him sending my heart into palpitations. He feels so damn good, I want to feel every part of him, but I’ll never get close enough.
“I could watch you all night,” Bowen murmurs, his voice thick as honey, “but now that you’re done being my whore, you get to be my queen.” He raises up on his knees again with a curt nod, “Turn over.”
Half-crazed, I roll onto my stomach as he reaches over me to grab one of the overstuffed white pillows from the headboard, “Up for me, baby girl,” Bowen gently tugs my hip until I lift up and he slides the pillow underneath me.
Kneeling behind me, Bowen pushes my knees apart with his, spreading them as far as they’ll go. I knead the bedspread impatiently, the rest of my body fidgeting uncontrollably the more he touches me.
“You really like being on your knees for me, don’t you?”
“I’ll live on my knees,” I press my ass against his stomach, “if you keep being this sweet. ”
He slides his cock between my thighs and teases my throbbing pussy, “Sweet, huh?”
I hear a jingle and, suddenly, a crack echoes through the room, followed by a stinging pain that radiates across my ass like fire. I pitch forward, letting out a shrill scream into the mattress, but Bowen grabs my hips before I collapse onto my side.
“You don’t want sweet,” Bowen sneers, tossing his belt onto the mattress next to my head, “you want to be owned and used.”
I claw at the sheets, gasping through the pain. My ass is still on fire, but I can finally catch my breath. He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m not the only fetish in this room. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but I’ve just found the feeling I thought I lost forever—and it’s him.
After exhaling a long, drawn-out moan, an airy giggle escapes my lips.
“Are you laughing?” Bowen’s tone hitches in amusement.
“That was so good ,” I croon, my voice half muffled by the mattress.
“Brett,” Bowen runs his hands up and down the curve of my waist, “I’ll gladly destroy you and fuck you back together as many times as you want—whether you ask me or I decide you deserve it makes no difference.”
“Please,” I plead with him through gasps and moans, “ please just put your cock inside me…” I have zero shame, I’ll beg him for this all night, I don’t care.
He rests his tip against my entrance and slowly rocks back and forth, toying with me as I push against him.
“You’re such a polite girl,” he grips my hips tighter, holding me still, “and that’s the difference between you and me—I don’t ask, I just take what’s mine.”
At the last word, he slams his cock into me with such force that I let out a yelp, clenching the sheets in my fists as I go rigid. He slowly pulls out before thrusting back in even harder, drawing another shriek from me. But then he slows his movements, finding the perfect rhythm as he rolls his hips against my ass, stretching and filling me completely.
Bowen slides his hand underneath me, searching for the most sensitive spot. When he finds it, my voice cracks as I’m bombarded with the euphoria. My hips move faster, grinding harder against his hand as the orgasm builds deep in my core.
“ Goddamn , baby girl , ” he groans, staying deep inside me, “you’re the fucking tightest I’ve ever had.”
Moments later, when the orgasm rips through me, it’s so intense that I throw my hips back, a chaotic mixture of screams and gasps bursting from my throat. My body convulses and I pound my ass against him as I contract around his cock.
“ Oh…my…ggg…Bowen! ” My screams turn to desperate moans as I slow, riding out the waves made more intense by edging myself for so long .
Sliding out of me, Bowen flips me over and throws my legs open, my thighs glistening with my own cum. He hooks one elbow under my knee and flashes a smile as he lifts it to my shoulder, “I like looking at my girl when she makes me come.”
I barely inhale a breath before he slams his cock back into me, sending shockwaves up through my belly. He gazes down at me hungrily, enjoying the wet sounds as he thrusts. Feeling a new orgasm building in the pit of my stomach, I reach down with one hand and press my fingers against my clit, moving in circles, frantically trying to draw another out.
Bowen’s mouth stretches into a feral grin, “You’re such a fucking whore.” I grin back at him, wanting him to keep talking, keep saying every vile thing that comes to mind. “Don’t stop, baby girl,” he groans, “show me how much you want it…needy little bitch.”
“ Bowen… ” I pant, quickening my pace, “I’m gonna—”
He lets my leg fall and rips my hand away from my legs, replacing it with his. Holding my wrists above me, he works my clit as the orgasm rips through me, bucking my chest like I just took a shotgun blast. I cry out and roll my hips with Bowen’s, squeezing his waist between my thighs while every one of my muscles feels like they’re seizing. I expect the waves to fade and my body to settle into the euphoria of the aftershocks while he finishes, but when I try to lower my wrists, he only squeezes them tighter.
He quickens his pace and begins rubbing my clit harder and faster, “I thought you liked pain,” he murmurs insidiously.
Overstimulated and short-circuited, the pleasure turns to pain radiating from my clit down my legs and into my core. I pull against Bowen’s hands, trying to free my arms as my breaths turn to panicked whines. I open my mouth, trying to find words that don’t exist.
“You look awful pretty down there,” Bowen taunts, “squirming and clutching on my cock.”
Tears pool in the corners of my eyes and my vision blurs, turning the dim room fuzzy. I convulse beneath him, trying to twist my torso, but his knees spread my legs too far apart to gain any purchase. Any movement I make is nothing but a spasm, dulled beneath his vise grip.
Bowen leans down, his hair brushing my eyebrows while he hovers over my face. His voice reverberates against my chest, cutting through my whimpers, “Let me hear you beg.”
I let out another cry, my voice shaking and muted by gasps. The tears roll down my temples as I thrash beneath him, “ Stop…please… ” I grind out, barely intelligible.
He starts pumping harder and faster, “ Fuck, you’re gonna make me come so hard,” he groans, biting his bottom lip while he watches my breasts bounce sharply with each thrust of his cock.
I squeeze my eyes shut in agony and desperately fight against him. He’s agonizing and all-consuming, but I love how he’s tearing me apart at the seams. Finally, he relents and brings his hand up, eclipsing my throat as he grips my jaw.
“Now tell me,” Bowen smirks as his hips smack against me, “who do you belong to now?”
I finally catch my breath for a split-second, “ You… ” I cry out in a broken voice, the word tumbling out without so much as a thought.
Still pressing my wrists into the mattress with all his weight, he throws his head back and slams his cock deep inside me as he comes. My body bucks against him as he buries every inch, ready to split in two as the shockwaves ripple through my core. As soon as Bowen releases my wrists, I throw my arms around his neck, clinging to him while he consumes my mouth and my heart begins to melt through my ribcage.
Soon, his hips slow to long, smooth rocks that lull me like waves on a beach. His chest and forehead glisten with sweat, his hair brushing saltwater streaks across my forehead.
Bowen’s deep voice turns soft and gentle, “You OK, baby girl?” he asks as he brushes his thumbs along the corners of my eyes, wiping away the tracks of tears.
I nod and let out an exhausted sigh, basking in satisfaction. I don’t want the blissful torture to end. I don’t want any of it to end.
Bowen shifts his hips and pulls out, making me wince in pain, “Can’t promise you’ll get used to that,” he chuckles, stroking the side of my face with the back of his hand.
I run my fingers up his arm and squeeze his wrist, “Small price to pay, I guess.”
“Figured I’d go easy on you,” he smirks.
“ Easy? ” I scoff.
“Yeah,” Bowen shrugs, “thought I’d be a gentleman and leave your ass for another time.”
“You wish,” I chortle, brushing a lock of hair out of his eye with my fingertip.
“You laugh,” he kisses me softly, “but just like that tight little pussy of yours is mine and that pretty little mouth of yours is mine, that sweet little ass of yours is also mine. And soon, you’ll be begging me to fuck that, too. And when you do…” Bowen leans into the nape of my neck, biting it with a groan.
“That’ll be the day,” I snicker.
“Mark my words, darling,” Bowen radiates with arrogance as he reaches down between us, but then his face drops, “Oh, shit. ”
“What?” I raise my head, my eyes darting up and down.
Bowen looks up at me, his mouth ajar, “I lost it.”
“Lost what?” I pop up onto my elbows in a jolt of panic, “ Inside me? ”
Bowen blinks and stares at me in silence for a few moments, “No,” his face explodes into a Cheshire Cat grin, “I got it,” he raises his closed fist and waggles his eyebrows.
I collapse back onto the sheets with relief, purging my lungs of air. Laughing to himself, Bowen crawls over me to the edge of the bed and stretches halfway off to ditch the condom in the trash can. And when he does, I do a double-take, struck by a tattoo that stretches from one shoulder to the other. It's a fox, drawn with thick, sharp, black lines. Its head curls over Bowen’s left shoulder blade, looking backward and baring its teeth, while its tail swirls over his right shoulder like a jagged black tidal wave.
How did I not see this massive tattoo across his back?
Because he hasn’t turned his back to you since coming in this room.
“Whoa,” I reach over and run my fingertips across his traps, following the black waves over his muscles, “I didn’t even see this.”
I lift my fingers when I come to a scar on his left shoulder blade. It’s hidden under the black ink and easy to miss at a distance, but the skin is raised and looks like the track of a shooting star. I leave it be, in case it’s sensitive, but I can’t imagine getting a tattoo over a scar that big. Bowen retracts back to the edge of the bed and looks over his shoulder, letting me admire his ink.
“Why a fox?” I ask.
He crawls back over me and settles between my legs again, “Ever heard the saying, don’t let the fox guard the hen house, even if the fox is really good looking? ”
I give a half shrug, “Sounds familiar.”
“Foxes are cunning and sly, but so are humans,” he explains, “some are smart, attractive, and good at deceiving people. You have to recognize which ones are the foxes and always stay five steps ahead them.”
I arch my brow and nod, “I take it you’ve met some foxes, and not just the pretty kind.”
Bowen trails a lock of his hair back and forth across my forehead and smiles, “It only takes one, and you never make that mistake again.”
I gaze at my reflection in his dark brown eyes. They’re vibrant, but have a distant look when he stops speaking. But silence with him isn’t awkward or off-putting. Instead, it’s like looking through a pitch-black doorway, and knowing that beyond the doorway was something incredibly exciting, like being drawn to the void.
This is what he was talking about—this is exactly what it feels like to be with him. And now I want to go wherever he’s going.
I finally break the silence, “Are you staying or heading back?”
“Do you want me to stay?”
“Yeah,” I stretch my neck from side to side, “if you want to. ”
A shadow falls behind Bowen’s eyes and he looks down at me with the same darkness he had when he flipped the swing bar shut on the door. “Then say it,” he says slowly, “tell me what you want from me, and mean it.”
I don’t know why it’s so hard to say what I need to say, especially now. For some reason, it’s easier to make demands of him while he’s fucking the life out of me rather than just telling him that I want him to stay the night. But the imminent threat of him leaving finally drags me out of the idiotic conflict in my head.
I reach up and stroke the side of his face, “I want you to stay here and sleep with me.”
Bowen’s eyes soften again and he lifts my leg, wrapping it around his waist, “Now that you’ve invited me in,” he drawls, sending a shiver over my shoulders and neck, “I’m never leaving.”
Thank God.