Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Owen
“So I can drink?”
Dr. Gibbons smiles as she nods her head. “Yes, Miss McKinnon, you are free to drink. All signs of your concussion are gone.”
“You hear that, Owen? I’m a free woman!”
Yes, I heard her. However, I’m not nearly as overjoyed about her updated health status. But I force my excitement because she’s so damn happy. I’m glad she’s better, but it’s only been seven days since someone tried to kill her. I’d hoped I’d be able to keep her forever.
“I did. That’s great news. We need to celebrate.”
I give her the high five she’s looking for when we walk out of the doctor’s office, and I play along when we see Mia on the way out of the clinic. Daisy has mastered walking in her boot and practically skips to my truck.
Once I’m behind the wheel, she sighs. “What a freaking relief, right?”
“Right.”
I can feel her watching me, so I smile, but I don’t trust myself to say anything else. I’m afraid that if I speak, I’ll beg her to stay. I stay mute, thinking of a solution.
“You know, I was thinking...”
She trails off, not finishing her sentence.
“What?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
“Tell me what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours.”
“You’ve already done too much.”
“Well, I’m not sure what it is you wanted to ask, but you aren’t going anywhere until we’ve got these assholes behind bars.
Besides, your boot is on your right foot.
That’s your driving foot, so technically you can’t drive.
Concussion or no concussion, I think you need to stay with me until you’ve kicked your boot to the curb and you’re safe. ”
So much for keeping my mouth shut.
I sneak a peek at her, checking for her reaction. She’s beaming. Her dimples wink at me from her bruised face. She’s so fucking gorgeous, and I’m so happy right now, my smile is big enough to match hers.
“Great minds think alike!” she squeals. “I was going to use the boot as a reason to stay, though. I forgot about the other part.”
“Well, I haven’t.”
Her gaze drifts out her window.
And just like that, I’ve killed the mood.
“Since you can drink now, wanna stop by The House on the way home?”
“No, thanks.”
“Listen, I didn’t mean—”
“How about a house party with just the two of us?”
“You sure?”
“I’m more than sure. You’ll dance with me, won’t ya?”
“You know I will, darlin'.”
“I wouldn’t mind another performance if you have one in you?”
She’s referring to the lip-sync performances she’s gotten every night this week. The first one went over so well I thought, what the hell? If me making an idiot of myself brings her that much joy, it’s worth it.
“I’ve spoiled you.”
“You have. I’d like a repeat of ‘Boogie Shoes’, please. Only I’m thinking full striptease this time.”
“In your dreams.”
“Only you can make that dream come true.”
“You’re playing with fire, little lady.”
“Last time I fucked around, I liked what I found out,” she says as I pull into my driveway.
I throw the truck into park and turn in my seat to look at her. “You’re my dream woman, you know that. Perfect in every damn way.”
“Stop it, Owen,” she whispers.
The pink staining her cheeks is adorable. I know she’s already wet for me, just like I’m already hard for her. However, she’s getting quiet, and that’s never good. She’s in her head, which is the last thing I need.
“Come on, we have a house party to prepare.”
I’m out of the truck and opening her door in a flash. I lift her and she wraps her legs around my waist. I throw her purse over my shoulder, unable to carry her sexy ass into the house fast enough, but as soon as we walk through the door, my excitement comes to a screeching halt.
“It’s my fault, sir.”
As if having a bodyguard wasn’t strange enough, seeing Smith standing in the middle of the living room, with Maui in his arms and feathers floating in the air, takes it to a whole new level.
Since I qualify as a bodyguard, he didn’t go on the appointment with us.
Instead, he stayed back to watch the house.
Daisy slips out of my arms to take Maui from the sheepish hired gun. “What did you do, little girl?”
“She was crying in her crate, and I caved. I let her out with me and left her for two minutes while I did my walk around the house. I came back a minute before you and walked into this. It looks worse than it is. From what I can tell, this all came from one throw pillow.”
“Silly girl. That was a big no-no. You made Mr. Smith feel bad, and you ruined Daddy’s pillow. That wasn’t very nice.” She pulls a feather out of the corner of the pup’s mouth. “How about a little time-out while we pick up your mess?”
She hobbles toward the laundry room to put the dog in her crate as I absorb the scene in front of me.
The feathers and the pillow barely register; it’s watching the perfect woman cuddling the puppy and calling me daddy that has me so distracted.
Visions of a future with an actual child in her arms fight their way to the forefront of my mind. It takes Smith to snap me out of it.
“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll pay for a replacement.”
“No need. It was just a random pillow. Besides, this is part of having a puppy. Don’t sweat it.”
“Thank you for understanding; I’ll get things cleaned up.”
“I’ve got it. Take a break. It’s all good.”
“I’ll be out front.”
“Sounds good. Oh, and you may hear loud music tonight. Daisy and I are having a house party.”
“Of course, Mr. Swift. Is there a guest list?”
“Nope, it’s just myself and Miss McKinnon.”
He nods his head in understanding and steps outside as Daisy reenters the room, meeting me in the middle of the mess of feathers.
Slipping her arm through mine and resting her head against my biceps, she sighs. “Our daughter has done a bad thing.”
“It was just a pillow.”
“This time. What if she were to ruin one of my shoes? That would be a travesty.”
“Well, you only need the left one, so she has a fifty-fifty chance of ruining the right shoe.”
She gasps and swats at me. “How dare you?”
“The truth can be hard. I know.” I kiss the top of her head. “C’mon, let’s pick up after our little monster.”
“Whatever.”
The two of us clean up, marveling at how many feathers fit in one throw pillow. Once we think we’ve got them all, Daisy collapses on the couch, and one renegade feather floats out from between the cushions.
“I have a feeling we’ll be finding feathers for a while,” she says, blowing it away from her face before a yawn escapes her.
All I hear is that she’s gonna be here for a while. The feathers aren’t even on my radar.
“You look tired. Go put your foot up and I’ll get everything set up.”
“What's there to set up?”
“You said you wanted a house party. That’s what you’re gonna get.” I offer my hands to help her up. “Go rest.”
Once she’s on her feet in front of me, she wraps her arms around my middle, pressing a kiss to the cotton over my tattoo. “I don’t deserve you.”
Does she feel the way her words jumpstart my heart until it’s nearly pounding out of my chest?
“You’ve got things twisted, baby. I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you, but there isn’t anything either of us can do about it. I’m stuck, remember?”
She doesn’t confirm my question with words.
Instead, she moves her hands behind my neck to bring my mouth to hers.
Now I know she must feel the racing of my heart as she glides her hands over my chest and down my torso until she grips the hem of my T-shirt.
The warmth of her soft body against mine and the whimper that escapes her when I trace her top lip with my tongue create a hypnotic combination for my senses.
This tender caress is her confirmation. Still too scared to tell me how she feels, she’s showing me instead, and for now, I’ll take it.
Our kiss remains just that. A kiss. Both of us are content with our current mode of communication. Knowing this intimacy is more than ripping each other's clothes off.
It’s important she knows what I feel for her is more than sex. She is my person. The one I want to grow old with. The one I want a family with. She’s it for me.
Eventually, Maui crying from her crate forces us to come up for air. “Go rest. I’ll let her out.”
“If I had dollar bills, I would make it rain!” Daisy yells over J-Kwon’s “Tipsy”, from her spot on the sofa where I take it she’s enjoying her lap dance. The woman loves it when I twerk, so of course, I’m giving her what she wants.
Needing to touch her, I join her on the couch. Grinding my hips against her as I straddle her, I whisper in her ear. “Your money’s no good here, Clover. But I can think of other ways you can show your appreciation.”
“With pleasure, Cinnamon,” she purrs, using the stripper name she gave me on night two of my lip-sync performances. “Trade places with me and I’ll appreciate the hell out of you.” She presses against my chest to move me.
Curious, I move so I’m sitting on the couch, while she gets up and stands between my legs, lightly kicking my feet apart to grant her more room.
When she starts to drop to her knees, I stop her. “No, baby. Not right now.”
“Yes, right now.”
“You’re still healing. I don’t want you to do anything that causes you more pain than you’re already in.”
“Then how will I show you how much I appreciate you?”
“By letting me take care of you.”
“What do you call this?” she asks, opening her arms to the family room I decked out earlier.
The overhead lights are off. White Christmas lights have been strung up around the crown molding and a disco ball spins from the ceiling to illuminate the room.
A speaker that lights up and changes colors to the beat of the music is perched on the mantel.
I pushed the furniture to the side, so we have plenty of room to dance.
“I did good, didn’t I?”
“You did great. Please let me show my gratitude.”
“I’ll let you thank me, but it won’t be on your knees.”
“You getting bossy, Cinnamon?”
“Only if that’s what you want.”
Her grin is mischievous as she nods her reply.
Scooping her into my arms—which seems to happen at some point every day—I leave the music playing as I carry her up the stairs to the bedroom.
The moment her feet hit the floor, she pulls her tank over her head, finally revealing the perfection she’s been flaunting in front of me all night.
She went braless in a white tank top tonight for a reason.
It was an intoxicating form of foreplay.
She knew what she wanted before I hit play on the first song on my playlist.
In seconds, she’s naked, has the bedding pulled back and is making a show of crawling onto the bed. On her hands and knees, she looks over her shoulder to make sure I’m watching while I practically rip my clothes off.
Oh, I’m watching, darlin’.
It’s hard to believe it’s only been three weeks since we were last together at Oktoberfest. With everything that’s happened, it feels like we’ve lived two lifetimes since then. Her battered body is evidence of all that has occurred.
Once I’m lying next to her, I circle one nipple with my forefinger before moving to the other. “You sure you’re up for this?”
“More than sure.”
“Daisy, I don’t want to fuck around anymore.”
“Neither do I,” she says, taking my cock in her hand.
As her hand works my erection, I try to decipher her reply. Does she mean right now, in this moment, or does she mean she’s ready for our future together? Because that’s what I meant.
“Sweetheart, I’m all in. I told you I’d wait however long it took you, and I meant it, but you have to know, if we do this, it isn’t just a hookup for me. All you’ll be doing is pulling me in deeper.”
“I know,” is all she says as her thumb rubs my pre-cum over the head of my erection. “Now, how may I show my appreciation, Officer?”
“Spread those legs and give me that pussy. I’m starving.”
She does as she’s told so I can settle myself between her thighs, my face only inches from her slick center.
“I want to hear you, Daisy. Tell me everything you’re feeling. Everything you want. I want to hear you scream my name every time you come. And you’re going to come over and over again.” I drag my tongue over her inner thigh, and then around her needy center. “You understand what I want from you?”
“I understand.”
“Good girl.”