Chapter 27
OWEN
The door almost makes it closed before Thea slams it open.
“Talk to me. What’s wrong?” she asks, letting the heavy wood swing closed behind her.
The click feels ominous in this space that’s way too small for all the things I’m feeling.
Hurt and anger, but also this intense longing to go back to yesterday when we were curled up together on a bed of hay, sharing our secrets and our bodies.
I was filled with hope. Blindly optimistic about our future.
She’s breathtaking today in a turquoise dress, the first dress I’ve seen her in since the welcome party.
Way more casual, but no less devastating.
Something about the fabric makes her glow—her golden skin and golden hair—like Midas’s most prized possession.
Of course I couldn’t hold on to someone like that.
God, I’ve never felt so ridiculous in my life. She’s perfect, gorgeous and funny and clever, and I let myself believe she’d want me.
“What did I do?” she asks, and it’s the most vulnerable I’ve seen her. It makes me want to throw myself at her feet.
Instead, my legs give out and I drop onto the bed.
I’m exhausted. Seeing her upset is killing me.
Even now, I don’t want to hurt her. It’s not her fault that I built this up to be more than it was.
She deserves the opportunity to do something she loves.
I know how much she misses her work, and Camila would be a great boss.
She’d be happy here. Fulfilled. How fucking selfish am I that I’m mad at her for building a good life for herself?
She stands in front of me, and without my conscious consent, my legs spread, and I pull her body closer. My head drops to her chest, and she runs her hand through my hair in a move that makes me feel like every cell has suddenly sprung to attention.
“Please talk to me,” she whispers, and my grip tightens on her hips.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m not being fair to you.”
“I don’t understand.”
Her voice is so much softer than I’ve heard it, but there’s tension in her body. She’s battling her knee-jerk reaction to fight, all for me, and it makes me melt into her a bit more.
It’s moments like this that have fucked with my head.
I can see what our future would be like, how we’d argue, but that each of us would try to put the other first. I’d be such a good partner to her, treat her like the equal she is while worshipping the ground she walks on.
But she chose a life that doesn’t fit me.
“I’m happy for you. Really, I am. You deserve it,” I say, pulling back to look up into her beautiful face. “I’m just going to miss you when you move.”
Her large brown eyes go even larger. “Are you talking about the job offer from Camila?”
“Is there another reason you’d move up here? Are you planning on eloping with Gabriel?”
She clicks her tongue. “Not yet. Gotta wait until he’s old enough that I can’t get arrested for it.”
I drop my head back to her chest, laughing into her skin, but I sober just as quickly.
“You don’t owe me information about your choices.
I just … I don’t know. We shared so much yesterday and I thought we were on the same page, so learning that you’re keeping this huge thing from me, it felt like a betrayal. ”
“Owen—”
Shit, she’s going to think I’m such a dick, believing I’m entitled to her decisions.
I rush to add, “I know it wasn’t one. We agreed we’d take the week to see if we wanted to pursue this, and I promised you could walk away if that’s what you wanted.”
She wraps her fingers in my hair, giving it a tug. “When would I have told you? You’ve refused to talk to me all afternoon.”
“I don’t know, maybe some time between us baking the cakes and you coming on my cock?”
She laughs, and I can’t tell if her reaction pisses me off or soothes the ache inside me. “She offered me the job this morning.”
I blink up at her. “This morning, as in … today.”
“No, this morning as in a month ago,” she deadpans. “Yes, this morning!”
I feel like a total asshole. I’ve given her the cold shoulder all afternoon, had decided what this meant for our relationship before she’d even been offered the damn position.
But just because she hadn’t known yet doesn’t mean that she isn’t going to take it.
I can’t let myself hope only to be crushed again.
“I’m such a jackass. My mom told me about it first thing this morning and said it was a done deal. I’m sorry.” I force myself to swallow before asking, “And what do you think about it?”
There’s a pressure in my chest as I wait for her answer, so strong I have to fight the urge to look down, sure I’ll see an anvil pushing against it. Or maybe the hard barrel of a shotgun, ready to destroy my heart on her word.
Her mouth pulls to the side. “About the job? Of course I’m not taking it.”
All the tension in my body is sucked out in an instant, but it’s followed by crushing guilt. I think of her face—the smile that stretched across it and the light in her eyes while talking to the customers—and I hate the idea of her passing up something that would bring her joy.
She must see the concern in my eyes, because she goes on. “Did you really think I’d walk away from this? That I’d do it without talking to you?”
I look up at her, my gorgeous, heart-stopping girl. “I think you’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met and so far out of my league it’s laughable.”
“Then I’m not doing my job.” She traces the line of my jaw with her fingertips, and I lean into the feeling. “You should know you’re perfect and that I think I’m the luckiest woman in the world that you’re willing to even look at me.”
I shake my head. “Part of me still thinks this is a very elaborate dream I’m going to wake up from at any moment.”
She brushes my hair off my brow. “It’s not.”
I give her body a tug, and she falls into my lap, legs on either side of my hips. “You’re real?”
She sighs and lets her lips drift over mine. “I could ask the same of you.”
My grip on her hips tightens, grinding her down against where I’m rapidly hardening and showing her just how real I am. Her head drops back, and I run my lips down her neck, reveling in that spicy scent. I lap at the spot where her pulse is beating wildly, and she moans.
“Owen,” she whimpers, and I love the sound of my name on her lips, the way she whines like she’s coming apart at the seams. She’s always so strong. Watching her turn soft in my arms is a drug I don’t think I’ll ever be able to kick.
I inch up her dress until I glimpse her light blue lace underwear, and a loud groan tears from my throat. She’s so perfect. When she rolls her hips over mine, her heat is right over my aching cock, and I wrap my arms around her, anchoring our torsos together.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into her neck. “I should have just talked to you.”
She stops the erotic way she’s grinding against me, brushing a soft kiss on my temple. “It’s hard, being vulnerable. Trust me, I’m absolute trash at it.”
“It’s not an excuse for me to be a dick to you.”
She pulls back, trapping me in her dark gaze. “You’re not one moment, and the good of you far outweighs the bad.”
They’re an echo of the words I said to her in the closet, and the way her eyes shine, she knows it.
A whole Fourth of July fireworks show sets off inside me, and I’m hyperaware of every place we’re connected as I drag her lips back to mine.
She moans into the kiss, and I want that sound seared into my brain as a reminder of how much she wants me on the days my asshole brain tells me I’m not enough for her.
“I can’t figure out how to stop wanting you so badly.” My head drops to her shoulder as I pant onto her skin, and she shivers against me. “It’s never been like this.”
“Me neither,” she whimpers, tilting her hips and gasping at the pressure she’s putting on her clit.
I slide the straps of her dress over her shoulders, pushing down until she gets the idea and pulls her arms out.
The fabric pools at her waist, leaving her in nothing but a lacy bra that matches her panties.
She’s stunning like this, but I want it all.
I can’t resist the temptation, yanking the dress back up and over her head so I can see the set together.
I stand, keeping her legs wrapped around my waist, and she makes the most adorable squeak that has me chuckling on her lips.
It only takes two steps to reach the antique desk set up across from the king bed, and I drop her on top of it, running my hands down her legs as I take a half step back to look at her.
The lacy bra doesn’t hide much, her nipples pushing against the material and begging for my attention.
I delay the gratification, letting my eyes take their fill of her.
Her heels are still anchored around my back, forcing her thighs wide and giving me the most enticing view of the dampness between her legs.
There’s a little tear in the lace of her underwear, and my hand goes straight to it, fingers playing with the bit of skin that I shouldn’t have access to.
My eyes track back up her body, and there’s a trace of vulnerability in her eyes. “Not my nicest lingerie.”
I can’t abide her thinking she’s anything less than perfect.
“You’re the most glorious thing I’ve ever seen.
Nothing has ever come close. Not the waves in the Atlantic Ocean or the Blue Ridge Mountains or any other thing people travel the world to experience.
None of it can compete with you, just like this. ”
Her throat bobs, and my hand drifts up until it wraps around her neck. Thea’s back arches. I could spend the day this way, letting my fingers map and explore her just to see the way she squirms.
Her self-control breaks, and her hands come to my jeans, opening and pushing them down with lightning speed. I groan when she closes her fingers around me over my boxer briefs.
“Why is it always you getting to look at me?” she asks innocently. “What if I want to look at you?”
“Next time,” I pant.