Chapter Twenty
A s soon as the robe hit the floor the chill in the air bit against my skin, but I stood there letting Owen drink in every curve of my body. No more regrets , he had whispered out, and the fire burning low in my belly ignited. There may never be another chance for us to be together, not like this. Not when the world felt far away and time seemed like it didn’t exist. For this afternoon, it was just the two of us, here in Owen’s home where we both felt safe.
I led Owen back to his room, to his bed. His careful, appreciative gaze moved across my body like it was a tender caress. He took in the scales of course, not with revulsion, but desire. He gazed at the sweep of my hips, his eyes dropping down to my aching warmth between my legs. I didn’t know the words for it, but I knew how this would work. I knew what intimacy was, no matter the shape of my body.
His eyes were on every bare inch of me, sending heat flaring across my skin. My breasts felt heavy with need, and my nipples hardening into peaks, begging for his touch, begging for his attention. The patch of scales in the center of my chest glimmered in the low light of his room like a beacon to summon him.
His stare was lustful, worshipful–I welcomed it, needed his eyes to stay on me forever. With shaky, nervous hands, Owen fumbled to remove his shirt. It slid from his broad shoulders, and I savored the planes of his body that were just as attractive as I’d imagined. His bare chest was covered in chill bumps, and the muscles of his stomach rippled as he worked to undo his pants. My mouth felt dry, like I needed him to kiss me just so my lips wouldn’t crack open.
This part was different–the length of him was hardened and full, ready to connect with me. We’d be one heartbeat then, one fluid being. The pressure and intensity of my need threatened to swallow me in heat.
Owen gingerly cupped my breast, flicking the nipple, pressing kisses to the hollow of my throat. He murmured, “Is this okay?” and I nodded, leaning further into his touch. His other hand trailed down my backside, squeezing to get my attention and I gasped.
When our bodies finally collided, a moan escaped my lips.
Owen rubbed maddening soft circles on the innermost parts of my legs, so close to the center of me, to the center of my core. I wanted to rub against his hand just to feel the friction, to hurry this moment, this need along.
But now was not the time for hurried motions. Owen laid me down on the bed, pressing his body against mine, until we kissed again. I hooked my leg around him and his lips curled into a delicious smile.
“I want to see you,” he said, husky and thick with desire. “I want to see every part of you.”
So I let him explore, letting my legs part open just a bit further, until I watched as his eyes went wild, looking at the most intimate parts of me. Owen trailed kisses starting at the top of my head, kissing my brow, then my cheeks, my lips, my throat and stopping to linger at my collarbone, causing chills to cover every inch of my heated skin. I arched into him, willing him to keep touching me, as he moved his mouth lower and lower until he swirled his tongue around my nipple. Lightning raced through my body, sending more heat to my center, my toes curling at the sensation of it all.
“You truly are so beautiful. I could never capture all of you on paper, Merrow. There’s too much beauty here for the paint to hold.”
My eyes were damp. Cherished . That’s what this was–he cherished every brush of his lips against my skin, reveling in the taste and feel of me. His hand that cupped and caressed my breast now touched the scales right under it, and he gently, slowly, so damn slowly , dragged his fingers over the scales until I gasped.
“Are they sensitive?” he asked, as his lips now whispered against them.
“Yes,” I breathed, and Owen brought adoring lips to the parts of me that were so foreign to him, tracing his tongue along the outline of my scales. His hand moved down my body, over the sensitive skin of my stomach until he found the warmth between my legs, where everything seemed to be building. I was wet, slick against his fingers, as he rubbed over my opening, over the bud of nerves that made me see stars. My legs opened wider, my hips angling for him, and Owen responded with hoarse breathing. His eyes switched from my face to my core. He licked his lips like he wanted to taste me.
“Is this still okay?” he said, as his mouth found my nipple again and began to lightly suck. I nodded, my words had fled me, and all there was nothing but this maddening, building pleasure all from him. A gift, a sweet and loving gift from him, showing me just how large that heart of his was.
I needed to touch him, to bring him closer, and I saw how he gasped every time his length brushed against me. So I took him in my hand and stroked him until Owen moaned my name, mouth still against my breast.
“Is this okay?” I asked him, and he smiled.
“You can have anything,” he said .
“As can you.” Our eyes met again, and he chewed the bottom of his lip as he slipped a finger inside of me. His heart thrummed so strongly, I felt it in his chest. Owen flipped the locks of his lovely, sandy hair out of his face until I reached for his hair too.
“You’re so warm,” he purred, stroking against another pressure point of nerves that made me writhe beneath him. This was joy, I realized, and not because of the sensuous heat bubbling under my skin, but just being here in this moment with Owen. With the easy, confident smiles I’d never seen on his face before. Owen slipped in another finger, massaging me until I was left panting.
He brought me to the brink of coming undone, tension and fire filling me until he removed his hand to kiss me again. I hooked my legs around him, trying to bring our centers together. I craved that togetherness, that fullness, until I was panting his name. “Owen,” I pleaded. My still-wet hair felt like ice against my skin, and it only seemed to push me closer to the edge, the back and forth between hot and cold.
He lined his length up to my entrance, still slick with my arousal from his lovingly, gentle hands. He sucked in a breath before pushing inside of me. Our bodies met and joined together, and a low, guttural noise came from both of us. I breathed to adjust to this union, and Owen’s sea green eyes were locked on mine. It reminded me of home, like the tides pulling me out to sea.
“Merrow,” he breathed, his voice barely loud enough to be a whisper. Owen filled me and all of my senses. The scent of his skin, his sweat, was in my nose, the taste of him in my mouth. I was swept away, and Owen was the riptide.
The rhythm of his hips was maddening; each time he slid in and out of me his length grazed every nerve, rocking us together until I felt the end coming .
He squeezed my hips, angling them up a little more and then I saw stars. I rode each wave, each pulse, each heartbeat of this pleasure until my body trembled and was spent. Owen peppered kisses over my chest, focusing on where my heart pounded. I wondered if he felt how thunderous it was, if he knew how I felt like the endless, deepest ocean.
His hands tangled in my hair as our bodies were still joined. He shifted slightly, and when he moved so his weight wasn’t fully on me, my body felt empty. Hollowed. I turned to him and Owen held me in his arms. His own heart raced like mine did, and I needed to kiss him again. There were so many words I still had to say, but I wasn’t sure that I would be brave enough to risk those. Not yet. Not when this moment was still so fragile, so perfect.
I scooted myself up so I was laying on his pillow, pulling the mess of my hair out from under my back.
A flush stained his skin, the satisfaction blooming like a brand lingered on his chest. I did that to him, I thought, I was the one you came undone with. We were overheated and chilled all at once, and I wriggled away just enough so we could crawl under the blanket of his bed. I wanted to sleep again, but there was too much to be done–too many books for Owen to read, too many for me to listen to.
“I can hear you thinking,” Owen murmured in my ear.
“Can humans hear thoughts? Is that possible?” I sat up on my elbow to look at him, amusement dancing across his features. That little, upturned smile made me want him again. Every detail about this man made me crave more of him; the color of his eyes like the color of home, the taste of his lips, the brush of his hips, and the feel of the hair all over his body. His gaze drifting down to my breasts told me that he still wanted me too.
“It’s an expression,” he said, pulling me back into his arms.
“An odd one.”
“It means that I’m worried, and you should relax, at least for a little bit. ”
“In the water, we say that you’re fighting the currents.”
“Stop fighting the currents, Merrow. Fifteen minutes won’t make or break our research,” he said, sleep tugging at him. He looked younger then, with his eyes shut and the smile on his lips. It was easy to forget how lonesome his life had been, how he slept in this bed every night without someone to love him.
I didn’t care about the research right now–not truly. Time was slipping away from me, from us , and I let it. There would be so little time for me to know what the warmth of his body felt like, so little time to soak him in. A tear rolled down my face, and I tried my best to hide it. Time slipped away like the sands being washed from the shore. The same color as his hair. I’d never be able to look at sand again without remembering the feel of it between my fingers, against my bare skin.
“Later,” he assured, and I realized that it wasn’t just for me. He needed the assurance too. Looping my arms around his neck, our foreheads were together, still sticky with the sweat of our love-making.
“Later,” I said, and he kissed me. I saw the tears welling in his eyes too, but we didn’t speak of the tears. We didn’t speak at all, as Owen and I drifted into a soft, comfortable sleep.