Chapter 4 #2
“You need a new car,” he grunts, and I press my lips together.
“Maybe,” I mutter, not giving away I’d rather die than give up my sweet ride. I know the old sedan is nothing fancy or anything special to write home about, but it’s mine. Paid off in full and a reminder of how far I’ve come.
Alone.
I need to remember that and to somehow manage keeping my wits around Owen and all his broody, quiet sexiness. He makes me want things that are definitely not in store for me.
I am not the woman who gets a happily ever after. I will be the fun, sassy, outrageous aunt to my best friend and his beautiful soon-to-be-bride’s future kids.
“Anyhow, thank you for saving me,” I tell him with a forced smile. Unsure of what to do next, I find myself rambling. “I’ll get a ride back to town in a couple of hours.”
“I highly doubt that,” he mutters under his breath. But before I can ask him what he means, his attention is on the shower. The walls in there are made of natural stone. I smile at the sight.
“It’s like a cave indoors,” I note, and he grunts. The more I look at it, the more familiar the shower feels.
It’s exactly like the image I saved on my Dream Home Pinterest board.
He turns the shower on. I had been wrong.
He doesn’t have three rainfall showerheads.
He has four. The room quickly starts to fill with steam, and once he checks the water with his hand, he pulls it out and looks at me.
I open my mouth but shut it when he crooks his finger at me.
“Come here, baby.” The tremble that washes over me, covering my skin with gooseflesh, has nothing to do with the slight chill in the air. But without a thought, my feet make their way toward him, following his instructions until I stop right in front of him.
“We need to warm you up,” he shares as his hands slowly move to my hips and stroke the hem of my thin cotton long-sleeved shirt.
It’s not lost on me that there was that sweet little baby again.
It has my head spinning faster than two margaritas at the brewery.
Not to mention it has my heart turning inside out on itself.
I want to point it out.
Ask him about what it means. Dying to actually. But as brave as my best friend, Eli, thinks I am, when it comes to Owen, I’m a lily-liveried chicken.
His hands start to lift the material of my tee. I shiver, and he immediately stops.
“You’re still cold,” he notes in a deep tone that warms me up from the inside out. His dark eyes are almost smoldering as he stares at me. But the way he’s watching me has me feeling so much. It’s just your imagination, a little cynical voice perks up.
“Just a little.” I exhale as I try to catch my breath. He nods. His chocolatey eyes turn molten, a smolder worthy of a forest fire shining behind them.
If I was nervous before, I’m more so now. He pulls my shirt up and over my head slowly. So slowly, I know I can stop him at any moment should I want to. I have no doubt he wouldn’t push for anything else. He would give me space. He’d nod and leave, closing the bathroom door behind him.
But I don’t want him to.
I want him to see me. Maybe entice him to see me as more than his brother’s silly friend.
And hopefully see me as a woman. One he might want to take for a night.
Before I can exhale, my shirt is off and is falling at our feet.
The way my heart is racing, I am almost positive it’s about to jump out of my chest and join my shirt on the floor.
Thankfully, he’s more confident about where this is going, because he pulls me flush against him. I look up at him. His intense gaze should frighten me. Owen has always been the broody, grouchy one. More than Reed. But fear is the last thing I feel as our bodies touch.
Flesh to flesh.
He’s warm and hard all over. When his arms wrap around me , the tips of his fingers stroke the small of my back as he takes in a jagged breath.
“Tell me to get out, princess,” he rasps, and somehow, I know that is the last thing he wants me to do. I’m not sure; it may have to do with the hard length bumping against my belly or just sheer instinct.
“Princess?” I repeat, unable to stop myself.
“Baby—" My hands move between us, and the pads of my fingers touch his beautiful lips.
I’m playing with fire, and despite the snow outside, I have a feeling I know one way or another, I’ll be the one to get burned. But I don’t care. Maybe if I take this chance, this one moment with him, I can finally get over and through this crush of mine.
Wash him out of my hair, so to speak.
“I need you to warm me up, Owen,” I whisper. A deep sound emanates from inside of him. Almost makes his chest vibrate.
“Tess.” His warning is clear as day. I’m poking a sleeping beast, but I don’t care.
I’m burning up and freezing all at the same time.
I can’t seem to catch my breath, and my skin feels like it is being pulled tight over my entire body.
My nipples are puckered up and standing at attention for Owen’s mouth against the thin cotton of my bralette and an ever-growning wet spot against my panties.
I want him.
I always have.
And if this snowstorm is all I ever get a chance at having, then so be it.
“Please, Owen,” I whisper. I’ve never begged a man.
Not that I’ve had a parade of them. I don’t have the most experience.
Still single at my age, you would assume I might.
But dating when not only you live in a small mountain town where you have literally known everyone your entire life, but when every man I went out with never came close to measuring up to Owen and the way I felt around him, no matter how much I tried, it’s no surprise that I’m alone.
“Please what, princess?” he coaxes, pushing for an answer. It makes my head spin. “What do you want, beautiful?”
“You,” I answer confidently, and to prove it further, I reach behind me, undo the hooks of my bra, and let it join my shirt on the tile floor. My eyes never move from his face, but his gaze tips down, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob and his nose flare.
“Today. No strings,” I find the courage to say out loud. Anything to get him to agree to give me what I need.
“Strings?” he questions, but I am not going to mess up the moment with the logistics of everything.
Like a woman on a mission, I move my hands to the front of my jeans, and despite being slightly shaky with excitement and anticipation, I get the top button undone.
I’m about to start pulling them down and over my hips when his hands cover my wrists, and I know he can feel the way my hands are shaking.
Hell, I know he can feel that my entire body is on edge.
“Let me.” His request is raspy yet hoarse, and my knees wobble at his tone. Like he is holding on to his control by a very thin thread. Without looking away, our eyes locked, he drops to the ground in front of me on one knee. In that moment, the only thing that exists is him.
I’m afraid to even blink and miss a moment.
And like the moment he opened my car door in the middle of the road, he surprises me. With the patience of a saint, once again giving me the opportunity to change my mind, he pulls my jeans off.
Slowly.
Carefully.
With a gentleness I would have never expected from him.
A tenderness I have never had directed at me.
He pulls my jeans down, holding my hand as I pull my leg out of one pant leg and then the other.
Leaving me topless in nothing but barely-there black cotton panties.
They’re high waisted with elastic bands at the hips instead of material.
They’re not the sexiest, but they’ll do in a pinch. At least they’re not granny panties. Thank god I’d had enough foresight not to put those on this morning.
“Fuck, Tessa.” His voice is hoarse, slightly scratchy in my ears. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this sight?” I can’t tear my eyes off him. His chest rises and falls heavily. His fingers skim the back of my bare thighs, and I can’t help it when my eyes flutter shut.
“So sweet,” he says, almost to himself, as he stands and takes off his own pants, for whatever reason leaving on his boxers on. There is no hiding the tenting at the front of them. He grabs my hand in his and brings it up to his lips. “You wanna stop, all you gotta do is say so. You understand?”
God! Why does he have to be such a gentleman?
“I won’t,” I reassure him. His eyes flare wide and then narrow.
“I’m serious, princess,” he grits, and I smile softly. There is something about his fierceness and need to make sure we’re on the same page that makes my heart soften. Makes me hope that maybe this is more than a moment. More than a night. More than a snowed-in fluke.
“So am I, handsome.” My hands move up his face. “I’ve waited too long for this.” The admission slips frommy lips, but I don’t regret it. “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life, Owen,” I tell him, probably a little too honestly.
But I can’t help it.
I may not be telling him how head over heels in love I am or how the time I spend with him when I deliver his muffins is the best part of my day, but it’s a hint at it.
Before I know it, he’s dropped my hand and I’m back up in his arms. Though this time, his hands are on the back of my ass, and my legs instinctively wrap around his waist as my hands rest on his shoulder.
Without trouble, he walks us into the shower and shuts the door behind us. Steam and warmth envelope us. In that moment, in his shower, it’s like we’re in a whole other world. One I have dreamt of more times than I count.
He sets me on the ground, and I close my eyes as I tilt my head up into the warm water. It sluices down my body, warming me up, taking the remnants of the chilly snow far, far away. I shake my head and wring the water from my hair before opening my eyes. He’s standing still, watching me intensely.
We’re mostly naked and very wet, and that gives me the courage to touch him freely. My hands move to his chest. “What is it?” I whisper, looking up at him. The man is so tall Strong.
“You’re here,” Owen rasps, his voice full of emotion I can’t pinpoint before he pulls me into his embrace.
“You’re really here,” he repeats in that same tone atop my head.
I feel my lips start to twitch upward. Happiness fills me from head to toe.
I can’t stop myself from hoping that maybe this moment is a dream come true for him, too.
“You think you’ve waited a long time for this, princess? You have no idea. You have no clue how long…” His voice cracks. He clears it. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited.”
“You have?” My head pops up to look at him as I process what he just shared.
“Years. Since we met.” He rocks my world with his confession as my belly goes whoosh.
“That’s not possible,” I whisper, wiping the water from my face. His lips tip up.
“It is.” He rests his forehead on mine while his hands stroke my back. Pulling me closer to him. I willingly go. There is no dubt about his need. Not when he is impossibly hard and long. Harder than I knew any man could physically get.
“I didn’t think you liked me,” I blurt out. His laughter sounds rough as it echos in the shower, and I see what I have felt all this time reflect in his gaze.
Love.
Snow this is love.
Love that isn’t just a one-way street but truly and irrevocably reciprocated.
“Let’s get something straight right now.” Owen’s hand catches the back of my neck, forcing me to look up at him. “There hasn’t been a second since we met that I didn’t not like you. Get me?” he hisses, and even though a dominating side of him is showing, I’m not scared.
“I think so.” I lick my lips, and I could swear he groans as his dark eyes dilate. His fingers slide up the back of my head, through my hair perfectly. My scalp tingles, and I press myself against him. Owen’s head drops.
“I need to kiss you,” he divulges darkly, and I start to nod.
“I need that, too,” I admit honestly. He makes a deep sound.
As if by sheer natural instinct, my eyes flutter shut.
Hot water is running down our almost-naked bodies just as his lips touch mine for the first time and fireworks go off behind my eyelids.
With one wet perfect kiss, Owen Woodman confirms what I have always wondered.
He was worth the wait.