Chapter 17

SEVENTEEN

Colin

I 've been pacing the apartment for—I look at the clock on the stove—two hours and thirty-six minutes. Owen won't answer my calls or texts, Oliver basically told me to fuck off, and Isaac is also not telling me anything.

I call Owen's phone again, but it goes straight to voicemail. I want to scream.

My phone buzzes in my hand. Immediately my heart is in my throat as I look at it, but it's Cassie. I ignore it and send her a quick text. I can't talk to her right now.

Big Brother Is Always Watching: I can't talk right now. Are you okay?

PITA: Yeah, just annoyed at Mother

Big Brother Is Always Watching: lunch tomorrow?

PITA: Sounds good

Knots twist and tighten in my stomach while my skin feels like it's vibrating.

Does he hate me? Did I push him too far? Will he punish me somehow? Retaliate? Is this a way of telling me he's done with me and this marriage?

The fear of not being enough, of being too much, eats at me. I know I push people, but I don't always know when to stop. I'm too much. Too loud, too opinionated, too crass, too over-the-top.

I learned to use it to my advantage, to enjoy pissing off Dad because it saved my sister from his wrath. I'm able to deal with it better than she can, but knowing your parents wish you were dead instead of being who you are is a painful pill to swallow.

I've never done anything the way my father wanted me to. Usually I enjoy that bit of information, but tonight, it haunts me like the leftover fear of a nightmare.

Come on, Owen…

I watch the skyline darken while my stomach eats itself, but I'm too nauseated to eat.

Four hours and seventeen minutes.

Fuck!

I need a distraction. I can't keep pacing this stupid house.

The door opens, and I spin around, feeling half crazed and ready to fucking cry.

"Where the hell have you been?!" My breathing is too fast, my eyes too wide, and my voice too harsh.

Owen doesn't want to look at me, which sets me off more.

"What? You can fuck my throat, but you can't look me in the eye?" I use sex as a weapon. Everyone knows it. I used it against him too. Does he think I'm a whore now, too?

"Colin—" his voice breaks, and he covers his face with his hands. "I'm sorry."

I pause, confused by his apology.

"What are you sorry for?"

"I snapped. I was too rough. Forced you." There are tears in his voice. I don't understand what is happening. This isn't how I expected this to go.

"Forced me?" I reach for his hands, pulling them away from his face. "No, I pushed you too hard. I should have let it go. I'm sorry." I lift his chin so he's looking at me instead of his feet.

He meets my eyes, tears and guilt dulling the brightness of the blue. I'm starting to notice the variation in color from day to day.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" His voice is so soft, barely a whisper. The earnestness in his tone, the guilt, the shame, it breaks my heart.

No one has ever cared if they hurt me.

"No." I cup his cheeks. "You didn't hurt me."

Owen closes his eyes and presses his forehead against mine. I don't know who needs it more, as I wrap my arms around him in a hug. Tears sting my eyes as he holds me back just as tightly. Like he needs the connection as much as I do.

For long minutes, we stand there. Existing. Taking comfort. Breathing.

Until my stomach grumbles.

"When's the last time you ate?" Owen says against my shoulder.

"That's my line."

"You can't take care of me if you're not taking care of yourself."

He might have a point, but who the hell has the time?

"When's the last time you ate, husband?"

"This is about you, not me."

"So, probably not at all." I kiss Owen's neck and lean back. "How about we order food and go to bed? I'm exhausted."

Owen cups my cheek and brushes his thumb over my skin. "Ordering will take a while. Do you want to wait that long?"

I cock an eyebrow at him. "Is there anything in this place that you will eat right now?"

He purses his lips and thinks about it. "Probably not."

"Exactly. So, lets order food, get changed, and eat in bed."

"Oliver yells at me when I eat in bed."

"Oliver isn't here."

He grumbles, "If I get another soy sauce stain on the sheets, I'll never hear the end of it," but follows me to our bedroom. On my phone, I pull up the sushi place he likes and order his normal comfort meal, adding something for me as well.

I toss my phone on the bed and look up to find him with his shirt open and belt undone. It would be sexy if he didn't seem unsure.

"What is this?" I swirl my finger in a circle at his face.

"I—" he cuts himself off and pulls his brows together like he's thinking of the right words.

"Are you still afraid you hurt me?"

He nods and looks at the floor again.

I stand, remove my jacket now that I'm no longer freezing, and come to him. Sliding my hands inside his shirt, I hold his hips and enjoy the warmth of his skin.

"Owen, darling." I nuzzle his nose with mine. "I will drop to my knees right now and do it again if you want."

"I made you cry."

"Tears happen when you gag. It's a natural reaction." My voice drops to a whisper. "Do you have any idea how hard it made me? The way you took what you needed from me, used my mouth…" I start to thicken again just thinking about it. Pressing closer to him, I rock my dick against his thigh.

"You deserve to be treated with respect."

"I very much enjoy being disrespected by those I want it from."

An emotion I'm starting to recognize flashes in his eyes, jealousy.

"I assume the one time you had sex with a woman, you weren't like that?"

"No one would like that side of me. That's why I don't let it out."

"I liked it. No, I fucking loved it."

"How do you like it? I'm being—mean." He hesitates on the last word, like he can't find the one he wants.

"You mean, aggressive?" He nods, and I smile, dragging my teeth over my lip. "I love it." I grind against him again.

"Is this because of your trauma?"

"Excuse me, that's rude, and maybe, but that's beside the point." I wave it off. "Plenty of people like it rough, so it doesn't make me strange!"

"Okay, princess, if you say so."

"Princess?"

He lifts a brow at me and the buzzer of our food being delivered interrupts my retort.

I point at him and mock glare on my way out. "Get changed, you're cuddling me tonight."

I get our food and bring it into the bedroom. Owen has found a tray somewhere and set it up on the mattress. He's once again in dark silk pajamas, but this time they're blue.

I set the food on the tray, and he unpacks the bag while I get changed. Once again, I wear my "Ask me about my tongue" crop top and some short shorts.

Owen gives me an unamused look when he sees it, but I laugh as I climb on the bed and sit on the opposite side of the tray from him.

We eat in silence for a few minutes before I have to know if he'll let me suck him off again.

"So, on the scale of ‘never again' to ‘right this second', how was the blowjob?"

"Colin." My name is a warning.

"But was it sticky?"

"No," he admits.

"Then I should be able to do it again." I smile triumphantly.

"Why? What do you get out of it?"

"You mean besides your gorgeous cock in my mouth and a stomach full of cum?"

He blushes a little. "Yes."

"Spank bank material."

"What?"

"Knowing I got you off, that you enjoyed yourself, gets me off. I could jack off while I do it, but that would get…messy."

Owen absorbs that information but doesn't ask anything else, which is fine. I've pushed him too much today as it is.

When we're done eating, I clear our mess, and Owen slides into bed for the first time since we moved in here. I like seeing him in here.

I turn out the light and suddenly feel a little nervous. I take my time getting into bed beside him. I'm desperate to cuddle, but I don't know if he actually wants to or not, and I don't want him to leave.

"This isn't cuddling."

"Do you want to?"

"I want you to get your needs met."

Ouch.

"That's not what I asked." My tone is a little harsher than I meant for it to be, but that stung. He doesn't want to touch me, to cuddle me. He's only allowing it because he needs me to keep pretending to be in love with him.

"I've never really cuddled with someone that wasn't Oliver, so I don't know."

"You don't know if you want me to touch you?"

With a frustrated huff, he turns toward me and pulls me against him. "I don't know how to do this."

I roll onto my side to face him. "How to do what?"

"This. Relationship, human nature stuff."

"Are you an alien? A robot? Raised by wolves?"

"Have you met my parents? Yes, I was raised by wolves."

I snort because he isn't wrong. "I don't want you to cuddle me if you hate it."

"I don't hate it."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

After the best night of sleep I've had since I married Owen, I make us coffee and breakfast. It's nothing fancy, scrambled eggs and toast, but it's the thought that counts.

I've set our plates on the island for us to eat together when my phone buzzes.

Insufferable Asshole: What are you giving Owen?

Colin: What are you talking about?

Insufferable Asshole: HE WAS CHEERFUL.

Colin: What did he do?

Insufferable Asshole: He said good morning. It's never a good morning.

I roll my eyes.

"Your brother is freaking out. What do I even say to him?" I holler loud enough for Owen to hear me in the bedroom.

Colin: Maybe he's happy?

Insufferable Asshole: Don't gaslight me. I've known him for twenty-three years, and he's never said good morning to me. Are you drugging him?

Colin: Only with the meds you told me to pick up.

Insufferable Asshole: I will get to the bottom of this.

"What are you doing?"

Owen's voice scares the shit out of me, sending my pulse through the atmosphere. "For fuck's sake! I'm going to tie a bell to you."

"You're smiling like a villain. What are you doing?"

"Oh, tormenting Oliver."

Owen's phone starts buzzing, and he sighs. "Thanks a lot."

"Ignore him and eat breakfast."

"He'll probably show up and demand I take a drug test."

I shrug. "That sounds like a him problem."

Owen sits in the seat next to me. "Until he makes it my problem."

"You know, you can tell him no, right?"

"Have you ever tried?" He picks up his coffee and takes a drink, licking his lips before putting it down. Gods, the way I want to put that tongue to better use…

"What are you thinking about, princess?" There's an edge to his voice that has my dick waking up.

"Better things to do with your tongue."

"And what would you do with it?"

"Did you wake up choosing violence today? I'm already going to be jacking off all day. Don't make it worse." I groan, still hard from last night.

He sets his fork down and turns to face me, looking intrigued. "So you can fuck with me, but you can't take it?"

I lean forward until our mouths are just shy of touching. "Bring it on."