Chapter 19

chapter

nineteen

OWEN

"Please continue." I lunge toward a table at the back of the room and bypass the nightmare of red fabrics and blinding sequins stacked on top of it. I opt for the chair and find Addie gaping back at me.

"I'm not going to dance for you," she asserts, outrage coloring the tops of her ears the same crimson red as the material next to me.

"Pretend I'm not here."

"That's impossible." She shakes her head, then pauses with amusement flooding her eyes. "Unless…"

I sit up straight, on the edge of my fucking seat as I wait for the rest of her sentence.

"I will dance?—"

I clap in victory.

"—if you dance with me."

My lips instantly tumble into a frown.

She sashays over, her hips melodically sweeping from side to side much like they did during her dance. And her hips aren't lying right now—she wants me to dance, if not more.

Dear God, please tell me I'm not imagining the devilish flicker in her eyes.

"Fine." I hop onto what I consider clown feet, especially compared to her graceful ones. "Let's go, angel."

I sense a blink of hesitation, but she shakes it off and steels herself. "Let's," she chirps and grabs her phone, using her pointer finger to scroll on her screen until music plays from a speaker.

"Is this Britney?" I venture as the beginning techno-like sounds of a synthesizer drown out my question.

Addie slings her arm through mine to lead me to the center of the room, and she immediately dips her body in front of mine, practically rubbing her ass on my junk.

I've never fainted, but my current lightheadedness comes fucking close.

With her confidence triple her usual level like she's cranked up a dial, she steps around me, circling me with slow, intentional steps.

Her heels hit the floor, and she bounces off her toes as she trails a finger across my chest and around my back.

It's sensual—she's beyond my wildest dreams.

And she never ceases to amaze me.

By the time she completes the circular pattern, I'm dizzy as hell, even though I haven't moved.

On the first note of the chorus from "Toxic," she jumps to the side and tosses her hands up. "Follow my lead!" she calls over the music.

I mimic her moves, throwing my hands into the air, then back down to my hips. I match her gyrations from side to side, and then we switch directions, lurching to the back, where we repeat the same moves.

I'm a few steps behind her.

At one point, she no longer dances to the beat, which is clearly for my benefit.

The truth is, I have great rhythm when it comes to catching, throwing, and hitting a baseball, but this is a different story.

I'd be more graceful in fucking scuba flippers.

I'm tripping over my feet left and right as she gives me a crash course on dancing, but it doesn't matter. I'm enjoying myself, mostly because she's obviously having fun.

Addie laughs, and it exceeds the volume and beat of the fast-paced song. It's a sound I wish I could capture, but even a replay from a recording wouldn't do it justice. The real thing is unmatched, with its airy release.

If I could assign a color to her laugh, it'd be pink—fun, light, and feminine.

It's the shade her cheeks adopt as she spins in my arms, her grip around my hand firm and strong. The way she hangs on to me borders on a cling, similar to the white-knuckled hold of an oar controlling a boat against a current.

But it's not me who's leading—it's her.

"Catch me." She gives me only a half second warning, then leaps into my arms, her legs spread into splits in midair with toes pointed like a pro.

The abrupt ending of the song is the complete opposite from how slowly she slides down my front until her feet flatten on the floor, but she doesn't back away.

Lingering in my embrace, she licks her lips and peeks up at me through feathery eyelashes, her cheeks redder than before. Her nostrils flare as her gaze travels down to my lips, and she shudders.

If I weren't holding her, I probably would've missed such a perfect physical response to me. I affect her, and it's just as well, because she affects the hell out of me.

My hands float to her hips and pause, my fingers skittering over the waistband of her skintight leggings. I'm in baggy sweats, but if she keeps staring at me like this, they're going to fit like leggings too.

She makes me so fucking hard without even trying.

I angle my head to the side, so the bill of my hat is out of the way. Then I dip it low with every intention of closing the distance between us, effectively losing my challenge to make her beg. It's worth the loss.

The tips of my thumbs graze a sliver of her skin beneath her flowy shirt as my nose brushes the point of hers.

I'm so damn close, but she squeezes her eyes closed and releases a heavy sigh. "I can't."

My muscles lock up worse than they do after a hard workout, and my chest sinks.

"I'm not ready," she whispers as she threads her fingers at the nape of my neck. "I want to be, but…"

"What is it, angel?"

"I still don't know if I can trust you." Her lips twist as if the confession tastes sour on her tongue. It's no fucking treat to hear it, either. "If we're going to be more than just a casual fling like you say you want, then I need to be able to trust you."

My swallow doesn't go down easily. In fact, none of this is easy.

If there was a particular moment in history that she could point to in order to tell me when she started hating me, then I could apologize, make things right, tear my heart out to show her how serious I am about us.

But without that, my plan to show her I'm a stand-up guy is going to take more time, and I was serious when I told her I'm a patient man.

Truth be told, I appreciate that we're on the same page. That if and when we kiss again, she agrees it's intimate and binding—a moment shared between two people who trust each other.

"I get it," I rasp.

She releases a humorless laugh that just twists the proverbial knife into my gut as she untangles herself from me. "Honestly, I still find it hard to believe you're not trying this much just to see how quickly I'll cave."

"This isn't a game, Lockhart," I assure her, my voice taking on a gravelly edge.

"It's not, which is why I can't give into you until I'm sure, no matter how…" Her nostrils flare even wider than before, and her pupils dilate as she visibly undresses me. "No matter how horny I am."

I cock a brow.

She holds a hand up and closes her eyes again, her shoulders high in a defensive position. "Please forget I said that. The last few days have been absolutely brutal, and I'm stressed, and clearly, I'm nuts. I've just been acting and talking all crazy." She finally opens her eyes and forces a smile. It's not the same smile from before while we were dancing, and it doesn't sit well with me.

As she attempts to brush past me, I reach out and slip my palm over her shoulder, urging her to relax. With her back pressed against my front, I bring my lips to her hair and speak low, as if we're not completely alone, when I affirm, "I'll be as attentive as your boyfriend as I have been as your enemy. I promise you that. I'm happy to fucking prove it to you, too, however long it takes."

Again, she shudders underneath my touch, and the vibrations are stronger than before.

Thick red specks blur my vision as lust fuels my brainwaves.

"What if…" She raises her hand to grip the back of my neck, and she arches into me, painfully gluing the curve of her ass between my legs.

Even though I can't see her face, I know the exact moment she feels me. Her arousing gasp echoes in my head, and there's no mistaking how much she likes what she feels against her backside.

"Tell me what you're thinking," I urge as I trail my fingertips up and down her velvet skin.

Only a whimper answers me, and her grip on me tightens.

"I can give you a taste, angel," I whisper as I loosen her ponytail until her hair is as free as her. Then I bury my face in the strands that cascade along the slope where her neck meets her shoulder. "I can give you a taste of what it'd be like to be mine. It'll show you exactly how fucking attentive I am."

She grows limp in my arms for a ghost of a second.

"Would you like that? I need to hear you say it."

Addie slowly pivots to face me. "Not here." She nods toward the less than private glass door, through which I spied on her like a possum, as she so lovingly called me.

She rushes to turn the lock on the door and returns with a leap. With my hand in hers, she leads me toward the back, where we disappear from any potential witnesses into what I can only describe as a private nook. It's half a hallway with a restroom nestled at the end.

Addie plasters her back against the wall and tugs me toward her, lips parted as her eyes roam over my face and chest. "Touch me."

It's a simple request, but it releases her sinfully supple lips as a dire plea.

My legs wobble as if the weight of the entire world rests on them.

I promised we wouldn't take things to the next level until she agreed she'd be mine and only mine, but I can't, in good conscience, leave her needs unmet.

She told me she's horny, and I'm only fucking human.

"Put my hands where you want them, baby," I growl along her jawline, the wisps of her wild hair brushing my cheek.

Without hesitation, she covers half my hand with hers and tucks it into the front of her leggings.

"Fuck," I hiss as she guides me between her legs until I'm cupping her wet heat.

And she is soaked.

Dear Babe Ruth and Joe DiMaggio—I'm in heaven.

This is officially what it's like to follow the light, and I don't regret being blinded by it and caving to her needs.

We're just getting started too.

I use the tip of my finger to tease her slit, and she slumps against me instead of the wall for balance, her moan a prayer on her lips.

My own body buckles as if I feel the satisfaction she feels, but I can almost guarantee I'm enjoying this far more than she is.

Her eyes fluttering closed, she takes one finger, then two. I press into her until I'm knuckle deep, and her chest heaves as she seemingly fights for her next breath.

I lick my lips, savoring the way she slowly unravels for me, succumbing to me.

Addie Lockhart is coming undone by my touch.

I hook my fingers, one at a time, and her eyes fly open, the yelp she releases echoing between us with fervor. "Owen!"

My hard cock pulses against her as I fist her hair in my palm. "I love it when you say my name," I rasp as I trail my nose along her cheek like I'm attempting to absorb her.

The grip she has on me tightens tenfold, her tiny hands clenched around my bulky shoulder.

I want to kiss her—a bruising, punishing kiss to show her just how damn agonizing it's been to not kiss her again these last few days.

When I slide my fingers out, she whimpers in protest and still doesn't let go of my shirt. Rather, she pinches my skin, and it turns me on even more.

"I know I promised you a taste, but it's me who needs the taste." As I lap her up from each finger like a popsicles in the middle of summer, I sink onto my heels, my knees at her feet as she watches me with desire swimming in her eyes. "May I?"

"Yes," she whispers and thrusts her fingers through my hair as I get to work on her leggings.

I slide the elastic material down each toned thigh until it's wadded around her ankles. She steps out of one side, but I don't make it to the next before she throws her free foot over and hooks her knee onto my shoulder.

Which is when I see it—a birthmark located inside her thigh.

It's in the shape of a heart, and I can't help but bring my lips to that spot.

Her body limps lower on the wall, and I use both hands to hoist her up as I nip at the birthmark, paying special homage to it.

My brain malfunctions.

Hot blood courses through me, lighting me on fire.

With her hand still in my hair, Addie jerks my face between her legs, and I growl. She needs me, and I fucking love it.

Almost as much as I love the sweet taste of her.

I squeeze the backs of her legs with both hands and bring her closer until my face is completely buried in the happiest place on earth.

Addie rocks into me, riding my tongue as I devour her.

Her previous moans turn into full-on cries of pleasure, thanks to me.

When her muscles tighten, and her body shatters, it's my name she screams.

And when I stand, it's my arms she melts into.