Chapter Fourteen #2
“He’s enamored,” he agreed. “I’m gonna go grab my bag.”
With that, he was off, and I smiled to myself before getting up to go make sure the nicest guest room was fresh and the bathroom clean.
I was just coming out of the room after adding towels to the bathroom counter when Owen came around the bend.
“I gave you fresh towels,” I told him.
“I took out Tuna, checked all the doors, and armed your alarm system.”
My heart swelled at that.
That had always been my job—closing down the house for the night. Aside from when I’d been living at home, I’d never had someone else to check the locks and close the curtains and make sure everything was safe so I could sleep peacefully.
I was perfectly capable of doing it.
But felt unexpectedly nice to have someone else do it for me. I loved how Owen took the initiative. It was exactly the kind of thing I felt you could expect from a man like Owen. Everything about him was mature, capable, and considerate. Maybe even a little protective.
“Thank you.”
He shrugged it off.
“I’ll let you get settled,” I said.
I grabbed Adelaide, took her into the nursery for a feeding, change, and rock to sleep before going into the primary suite to change into pajamas.
Not my usual matching set. Because despite knowing it was borderline pathetic, I wanted to look my best with Owen in the house.
So I reached for one of my nightgowns. Not one of the ones that could be called a nightie, but not a house dress either.
It was a V-neck with wide straps that hid my bra and fell about mid-thigh in a soft baby yellow color.
Then, as the air kicked on, chilling my skin, I fabricated a reason to go into Owen’s room.
A spare blanket in case he got chilly. Because, you know, that was a common complaint about men I knew. Men who kept their thermostats at arctic levels.
But I wasn’t letting my logic talk me out of it.
I grabbed one of my nicest blankets and walked to the guest room, finding the door open, so I stepped inside.
To find it empty.
Deciding to take that as a sign, I was going to drop the blanket on the foot of the bed and leave.
When he came walking in from the hallway.
From the shower.
Because he was wearing nothing but a towel.
My mouth went dry.
And a strange choking sound worked its way up my throat then escaped in something that sounded embarrassingly like a whimper.
“Willa,” he said, straightening.
“I, um—” I couldn’t form a single coherent thought.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, no. I just…”
“Brought me a blanket?” he asked, gaze slipping from my face. Which gave me the perfect opportunity to let my own gaze sweep over him.
And there was a lot to take in—the width of his shoulders, the indents of his abdominal muscles, the corded muscles of his biceps, and the delicious V of his Adonis belt that disappeared into the towel.
“Yes,” I said when my gaze leisurely made its way back to his face.
To find him already watching me, a slight quirk to his lips that said I was absolutely caught ogling him.
I turned, pressing the blanket onto the edge of the bed while hoping I didn’t look as flushed as I felt.
When I straightened, I’d either miscalculated how close he’d been before, or he’d taken a step or two closer.
My breasts nearly grazed his chest as I turned to face him again.
“Thanks,” he said, his voice a sexy rumble that was doing all sorts of things to my insides.
“Yeah. I, um, I didn’t want you to get too cool. I once went to a house party where people were trying to use random towels and old newspapers as blankets. I never want to be the ‘guests shivering all night’ kind of host.”
I needed to shut up.
“No worries. You’ve been very accommodating,” he said, his hand lifting.
Everything in me froze—my breath, my pulse, my thoughts.
His fingers tucked my hair behind my ear.
It was a barely-there touch. But try telling my body that.
Sensation came running back. My pulse raced. My heart hammered. Everything was pulse and ache and a need so deep it seemed to imbed in my spine.
My gaze was transfixed by his and I could see him recognize the heat in my eyes as his own warmed to match.
Maybe that’s what had my own hand lifting, sliding up the wrist that he’d rested on the side of my neck. Over his forearm. Then settling on his shoulder as my gaze slipped to his lips, then back up again.
I was close enough to feel the way his chest expanded as he sucked in a greedy breath. Close enough to see the decision get made just a second before his head ducked and his mouth found mine.
His lips slanted over mine, slow and sure, drawing me under as my arm went around the back of his neck and my chest pressed to his.
That cracked what was left of his control.
His one hand slipped around the back of my neck, his grip firm, possessive, as his other arm wrapped around my lower back, holding me tightly against him as the kiss deepened.
A soft sound escaped me and his tongue swept inside to find mine, teasing, toying, stoking the flames of the desire that threatened to burn me from the inside out.
His hands were moving then, sliding up and down my back, then sinking into my ass, dragging me more firmly against him until I felt the proof of his desire pressing against my stomach.
A moan escaped me as the ache inside grew sharper, almost painful.
Owen moved then, bringing me with him as he turned, and lowered down onto the foot of the bed, pulling me to straddle him.
Hands still on my butt, he pulled me down until his hardness was against the juncture of my thighs, making a moan move up my throat and burst out. Hearing it, Owen’s hands flexed, and a rumble moved through him, vibrating into me.
The kiss tipped harder, hungrier.
Owen’s hands rocked my hips, grinding me against him. Once. Twice.
I didn’t need any more encouragement than that. I let my desire guide me, rocking harder and faster against him, my little whimpers growing into loud moans his lips only partially muffled.
His hands started to move then, sliding over the tops of my thighs, my hips, over my ribs.