Chapter Fourteen: Aspen

Rory's house was dark when we arrived. I followed Owen up the front porch and over the threshold, where he switched on a lamp that rested on a small console table by the door. I was already familiar with the layout of the house and set my purse on the table, then walked over to the living room.

"Can I get you a drink or anything?"

"Um… whatever you're having is fine," I replied. I was more nervous now than when he picked me up. There was something different about being in his place. Here, we weren't faking it for anyone. There were no cameras or gossipers. No girls eagerly waiting for him to sign their breasts. It was just us, and I didn't know where in the sand to find the drawn line.

"Here. It's a vodka soda."

"Thanks."

My hand shook as I took the glass from him. He had to have noticed, as the ice clinked in the glass, but he didn't say a word. Tentatively, I took a sip of the drink, surprised when I found it cool and refreshing.

"So…"

"So…," I repeated.

"Do you want to watch a movie or something?"

"Um… no… not really." Setting my glass on the end table, the clunk reverberated in the room. "Sorry. I'm nervous."

"Why? We're just hanging out."

"That's what makes me nervous. I've never just… hung out with a guy."

Owen hummed, rubbing one of his thick fingers against his bottom lip. "How about we work on another lesson?"

"What was the first lesson?" I asked, trying to remember if we actually made a list.

"Teaching you to be more confident. Men are attracted to confidence. That's why I sent you to the bar alone."

"Oh."

"The second was going to teach you to be accepting of gifts and compliments, but you didn't have any trouble there. So, I think we can move on to lesson three."

"Yeah, and what's that?"

"Knowing what you want and being vocal about it."

My palms immediately went clammy at the thought of telling anyone my desires.

Licking my lips, my voice croaked as I tried to speak up. "Are you talking about not allowing a date to order dinner for me or something like that?"

Owen took a step closer, setting his drink on the end table next to mine as he leaned over me. His lips brushed against the soft bare skin of my neck. My body quaked at the gentle touch.

"You know what I'm talking about."

"I… I'm confused. Is… isn't this all supposed to be fake?" My eyes closed as I tilted my head toward the ceiling. The feel of his lips burned along my skin in the best possible way. Unexpectedly, his hands reached for my hips, gripping the silky material in his fists as he drew me up against him. The outline of his cock behind his pants pressed against my stomach, and I immediately clenched my legs together.

"It's as fake as you want it to be. I can stop, and we can keep this professional, or we can explore this. Tell me what you want, cricket. Tell me if you want me to stop."

Hesitantly, I touched his shirt-covered chest. Our kissing at the theater and the few stolen kisses before that… they'd all been fake, right? It was all pretend. But now, with his mouth tracing paths along my neck, collarbone, and shoulder, it sure didn't feel like a game.

"I… I don't want you to stop. Teach me, Owen."

"That's my good girl," he said as he pulled back and released my dress from his fists. He covered my cheeks with his hands as his mouth met mine. Caution was thrown to the wind as our tongues swirled, my arms wrapping around his waist, and I held on for dear life.

Without breaking our kiss, Owen released my face and lifted me into his arms, mine circling his neck as he carried me to the bedroom.

Reluctantly, I released my hold once he pulled back and settled me on my feet.

"All right," he whispered, pushing my hair back from my face and shoulders. "Tell me what you want."

My nerves popped and pinged at the thought of describing the things I wanted Owen to do to me, with me. There were things I'd only heard about in books and movies.

"W-What do you mean?" I asked as he took a step back and rested against the dresser, crossing his arms against his chest and his feet at the ankles.

"Tell me what you want to happen tonight. I can keep kissing you, finger-fuck you, eat your pussy, fuck you until you can't remember your name…."

My entire body heated at his words, though Owen didn't even bat an eye as he spoke. My body squirmed beneath his gaze. I couldn't comprehend how or why this gorgeous man wanted to do something so intimate with me.

"Is there something in it for you?" I murmured. That was one of my biggest fears, being used for a game of some sort. But Owen and I were already playing a game to fool everyone else. I worried about fooling myself in the meantime. I knew from town gossip and tabloids that Owen wasn't a playboy. Not by the common definition. Before they broke up, he planned to settle down with and marry a woman I couldn't compete against, so I had no idea what he wanted with me.

"Just the pleasure of making you come."

I gasped. No man had ever spoken so bluntly to me. Of course, I'd never given them the chance to. Immediately, I felt my core tighten and my stomach clench at the thought of Owen touching me, tasting me.

"Tell me what you want, sweet girl."

Closing my eyes, I thought about my end goal. How I wanted to be intimate with someone and how I didn't want it to be awkward. With Tryston, I'd have to get to know him first, but with Owen, I'd known him most of my life. It was both awkward and exhilarating.

"Take off my dress," I mumbled, my sweaty palms fisted.

Owen reached out and pulled my body against his. I didn't hear or feel the zipper make its way down my back. All I felt and heard were his gentle fingertips sliding down my bare skin and the soft sound of each of his breaths.

The material pooled at my feet, and Owen took a step back, admiring me as I stood before him in my strapless bra, lace panties, and wedges. It took every ounce of self-control to keep from covering myself with my hands and arms. Though still not completely naked, I'd never felt so exposed as I did at that moment. Owen's eyes traced over every inch of my body as if he was saving it to his memory.

"Take off your clothes," I requested, my voice trembling as I tapped out a rhythm with my fingertips on my thighs. I had no idea what the song was, but it kept me from completely abandoning ship, grabbing my dress, and running for the bathroom.

The smirk I'd started to grow fond of appeared on Owen's lips just as he reached behind his head, gathered the material of his shirt, and pulled it off effortlessly. If I tried the same thing, I would have ended up in a tangled mess.

"Damn, you're hot," I said, not realizing I uttered the words aloud until I heard Owen's chuckle as he toed off his shoes and socks. He made quick work of his pants, and they landed in a heap atop his ankles.

I counted an eight-pack. Eight mounds on his lower abdomen and a freaking line darting down from each hip. He had the body men desired and women dreamed about.

"You know, I used to think they worked magic with some sort of editing software on the images they put of you in magazines, but no. Of course you actually look like a freaking Greek statue."

Owen looked down, his brow furrowed like he was seeing himself for the first time. Following his movement, I did the same. I was toned from years out on the ranch, but Owen's body was on a whole other level.

His boxer briefs rested low on his hips, and the cotton did nothing to hide his large cock pressing against its confines. Most women probably would've quivered with anticipation if the chance of having Owen's dick was on the night's dessert menu. Unlike them, my throat dried up, and my core clenched in fear.

Thank goodness I was saving myself for Tryston, or whatever steady boyfriend came along after Owen's and my fake relationship ended. This man would've been too much for me.

"Cricket. Eyes up here," he said, pulling my thoughts back to him instead of his almost-naked form.

"Sorry," I mumbled, my eyes focusing on his chiseled face.

"What do you want next?"

My teeth chattered, and I clenched my shaking hands, as I whispered, "Touch me."

Owen took a step closer, his bare feet almost making contact with the tips of my espadrilles. "Where?"

Our breaths mingled, and my skin grew warm all over as he lifted his hand toward my neck. Even though his fingers didn't touch my skin, they left a heated path along each centimeter they moved across. The electricity jumped off my skin in waves, leaving prickles in their wake.

"Everywhere," I moaned in anticipation.

He finally made contact, his fingers drawing around my clavicle, then a line down the middle of my chest between my breasts and to my navel, where he swirled around the soft skin. The sensation nearly made my knees buckle.

"You're going to have to be more specific."

My impatience was growing as his fingers glided along my hips, slipping just inside the waistband of my panties. "Take it off, please. The bra and panties."

"My pleasure," he responded with a cunning smile.

"I think it's the other way around," I said, my voice hitching when he unhooked my strapless bra. It toppled down my body, exposing my breasts I now fought not to hide.

"Fuck. Stop distracting me," he groaned with a lusty gaze focused on my chest. My nipples pebbled under his stare.

"I'm not doing anything," I replied with a chortle.

"You certainly are. How am I supposed to focus on the task you've given me, when you have these perfect breasts to distract me with?"

I never thought my breasts were anything to write home about. They were always on the smaller side, and most of the time, I felt self-conscious when I wore a tight shirt. But with the way Owen was staring at them, I wondered if I'd been wrong all these years.

"Sorry." My apology for distracting him was just for show, because I liked the way he looked and appreciated my body. It left me wanting more.

With a powerful breath in through his nose and out through his mouth, as if to calm himself, Owen slipped both his index fingers into the waist of my panties and tugged them down my hips until they fell at my feet on their own.

His body descended, his hands softly sliding down my sides until they cupped my ankles. My breath was coming in heavy pants by the time he gazed up at me. Lifting one of my espadrille-clad feet, he slipped it out of the panties and then repeated the action with the other, tossing the lace and my bra over toward the dresser.

I was stark naked in front of the most gorgeous man in baseball—and definitely in Ashfield—and he was licking his lips like he'd just been invited to an all-you-can-eat buffet.

"Shoes," I mumbled. It was unintelligible to my own ears, but Owen seemed to understand, as he unbuckled each strap and slipped the shoes free.

I dropped almost three inches in front of Owen, where he kneeled on one knee before me after setting my shoes aside. His eyes were patient, but his body was wound tight. His jaw ticked, and I felt my core grow wetter.

"Owen," I pleaded, wanting him to do anything he pleased with me. I was at his disposal. A willing student ready to be taught.

"Yes, cricket?"

"Touch me."

"What do you want?" he asked again, leaning back only slightly and clasping his hands together. His erection tented his boxer briefs. "Where? How? Tell me what you need, sweet girl."

"I need it all, Owen," I whimpered. "I'm begging you to put your mouth on me."

"God… damn," he growled.

I thought he'd go straight for my breasts, which had garnered so much of his attention the peaks were straining for his touch. But Owen glided his hands up along the back of my legs until he reached my thighs. Then, in a flash, he lifted one over his shoulder.

Before I could take my next breath, he settled back onto his ankles and ran his nose along my wet, hot slit.

"Oh my gosh," I cried out, nearly falling backward the moment his tongue ran across my center, but he immediately reached up and gripped my ass in one hand to steady me. He used the other to slide a finger back and forth over my clit.

Moaning out his name, I reached up and cupped my breasts with my hands, rolling my nipples between my fingers before I even realized what I was doing.

"Mmm. You taste so good. Like spun sugar." He pulled back slightly, his finger still swiping along my folds.

"What does that mean?"

Suddenly, I was lifted into the air and tossed onto the bed. As I bounced, Owen crouched between my legs, bending them at the knees as he spread me wide.

"That I have a sweet tooth, and I plan to spend a lot of time devouring your pussy."

I didn't know it was possible to grow wetter than I already was, but I was mistaken as my inner walls compressed, and I released more.

"Show me how you get off, baby. I need to see it." He sounded like a crazed junkie waiting for his next hit. I'd never been big on masturbation, only doing so when my body was too tight to ignore and I had no choice but to give myself a release.

"I thought I was in charge," I joked.

"Oh, you definitely are. You drive me wild, cricket. I want to make this good for you. Show me how."

Slowly, I slid one hand down my stomach, running my middle finger in circles around my sensitive clit, while my other hand caressed one of my breasts, tugging and pinching the sensitive peak.

My hips started grinding against my hand to increase the friction. I crept a finger inside my channel, coating it in my slickness, then drew it back over my clit, repeating the process until my knees shook.

"Yeah, baby. Make yourself come. You're fucking beautiful." I was surprised to find he wasn't looking at my hand between my legs, nor the hand on my breast. Instead, his eyes were trained on my face, darkening with each heavy, quick breath I took as I reached the edge.

"Owen?"

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me."

He crawled up the bed and laid beside me. Forcefully, his mouth descended on mine. There was no sweet or gentle pecking, only the hungriness of longing and desire.

The hand on my breast reached for Owen's head, and I held him steady against me as our tongues dueled.

Without warning, my body exploded, and I pulled my lips away to gasp for air.

"That's it. Ride it out," he commanded as I gyrated my apex against my hand.

Just as quickly as it rose, my orgasm came down, and I was left feeling unfulfilled. Usually, I was good for weeks before I needed another release.

But this time, I wanted… more.

"That was," I mumbled, unable to tell Owen what I needed, because I wasn't sure what to ask for.

"Hot as fuck," he supplied for me as he rolled his body over mine. His very large, very hard cock settled between my legs, and without a second thought, I rocked myself against him.

"Oh, hell," he said, clenching his eyes shut. "Steady, baby."

"I need more, Owen."

His lips brushed against mine in the sweetest way, like the caress of a flower petal.

"I know you do. I won't fuck you tonight, cricket, but I'll make you come as many times as you need. My hand, my tongue, my leg. You can ride every part of me but my cock."

"Geez. I don't know what to say to that."

"Say, ‘Yes, Owen, I want you to make me see stars.'"

"Yes, Owen, make me see stars."

"Your wish is my command," he replied as he dove between my legs again and showed me exactly how magical he could be.

His mouth did things I never imagined, and it felt like heaven. I couldn't get enough of it. My hips rocked and swirled against his face as he fucked me with his tongue and fingers. By the time he added a second digit to my tight sheath and sucked on my clit, my second orgasm made itself known.

I cried out Owen's name and arched my back, reaching down to grip his hair with one hand while the other fisted the bed covers.

"Oh my gosh, I feel like a limp noodle," I told him after he went to the bathroom to clean his face, which glistened with my wetness, and to retrieve a warm washcloth to clean between my legs. Owen was surprisingly tender in his care. "I'm not sure how I'll get dressed," I cried as I tried to lift my body off the bed and failed.

Owen fell upon the bed with a flourish and tugged me against his semi-naked body. His erection was still hard and thick inside his boxer briefs, and it throbbed against my hip.

"Stay," he told me against my hair as he draped one strong arm across me.

"Owen," I scolded. "You know I need to—"

He quickly hushed me by pressing his lips against mine. His kisses purged my mind of every thought, question, and scenario until it became a blank canvas.

"Please," he whispered as his mouth brushed back and forth.

I should've been leaving to get a good night"s sleep. Work started bright and early on the farm, and I was already cutting it close. But as I gazed at Owen's shimmering gray eyes, I couldn't say no. Instead, I asked him to grab my phone for me and turn off the lights.

By the time he returned with my phone and blanketed the room in darkness aside from the moonlight coming from the window, I was tucked under the covers with a corner pulled back for him to slide into bed.

In the subtle blue glow, Owen tugged down his last remaining stitch of clothing and slipped in beside me. He trailed his fingers up my exposed arm until they reached my shoulder, then neck, the face. They combed through my hair as he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against my lips again.

I moaned in contentment until he pulled back and tucked me against him.

"This changes things," he murmured.

And though I felt the same, I kept reminding myself this thing with Owen was temporary. He was leaving, probably sooner rather than later if his coach got his way.

And every once in a while, the nasty reminder that he was about to walk down the aisle just a few short weeks ago to marry another woman would make itself known. It was clear to me, and most people who knew him, that he hadn't loved his ex-fiancée, but he had planned to make the commitment regardless of how he felt.

And that made it impossible for me to believe he was ready for something more than a quick fling. Even though my heart strangely decided she wanted a piece of Owen.