Chapter 23

chapter

twenty-three

ADDIE

I could become addicted to him.

Owen kisses like it's an art form. Each swipe of his tongue and caress of his fingers along my skin is special as he worships me.

I'm well aware of how in tune he is with my body, and I have the acute experience of how easily he made me come apart etched on my brain and body forever.

But more than that, I could grow obsessed with the way he looks at me. His eyes bore into me like he's seeing me through a tunnel. Like he sees nothing but me.

When he says romantic—sometimes even dirty—things and pairs it with this look, the wall I've built around my heart crumbles as if it's made of clay.

"How is everything tasting?"

It requires a beat for us to pause our staring contest, and in sync, he and I turn toward the server. "Great," he says, his voice strained.

"Perfect," I mumble around the lump in my throat.

"Saving any room for dessert tonight?" she asks, and her expectant gaze bounces from me to Owen and back again.

My stomach rolls with need, but it's not for dessert. Not of the sugar variety, anyway.

"I think that's all for tonight, don't you, Lockhart?" His eyes darken until they reach the most mesmerizing shade of forest green.

My words stumble over the ball of disappointment in my throat, so I nod, instead.

After all, this is my doing. He's made it clear time and again how much he wants this—how desperately he wants me—but I've asked him to wait.

I'm the one who's in control, and as much as I normally enjoy the responsibility, I'm tired of letting it keep me from what I want.

And what I want is Owen Conrad.

The carpet between the foot of the bed and the fireplace gets a workout as I pace back and forth in my hotel room, the scent of fresh linens filling my senses from the plug-in in the corner.

The color of the palm tree wallpaper on all four walls matches the forest green of Owen's eyes when I left.

He paid the bill, and I just freaking left.

Did I even say thank you to him? I'm really not great at that, as it turns out.

I pick up my phone, then drop it on the bed. After a few more paces, I scoop it back up again as Maren's words from earlier this week play in my head on repeat.

"You like him, even if you hate that you like him."

She was right. Liking him—and acting on it—will lead to nothing but trouble for me, but is the what-if worth it? Is not knowing what we could be worth the possible backlash at work?

"Shit," I mutter as I tap on my screen to make a call.

Owen answers on the first ring, and at the sound of his voice, I clench my thighs together, my skin sizzling with the rumble of his simple greeting.

I blow out an unsteady breath. "I'm ready to beg, okay?"

"What room are you in?" He follows his question with what I can only discern as a strangled grunt.

"Riverview Inn and Suites, room 115." I resume pacing. "Were you already on your way back to Sapphire Creek? How long will it take for you to turn around?"

Silence answers me.

"Owen?" I pull the phone back and realize he's ended the call.

What the hell?

The man is simply incorrigible! He insists I beg, and when I tell him I'm ready, he disappears. What kind of game is that?

The no-good, frustrating giant with too-big muscles and an eye-twitching personality. How dare he be so?—

A knock on the door sounds, interrupting the tirade of unsavory things I'd like to say to him next time I see him.

But when I open the door and find him leaning on the frame, I nearly swallow my tongue. My tirade won't be necessary after all.

"How did you get here so fast?"

"I've been waiting in the parking lot for your call." Owen steps into the room, and I move backward with every foot he eats up, matching him stride for stride. "And I'm damn glad you did."

"Really?" The word leaves my mouth in a squeak.

"I've been waiting for you for days—maybe even years, if I'm being honest with you and myself." He rams his fingers into my hair as my back hits the grooves of the fireplace, the mantel hovering above my head. "I'm a mess. I think about you nonstop. You're all I see during class. I don't know what you've done to me, Lockhart, but I fucking love it."

Gasping, I cling to his shirt until I dig my knuckles into his ab muscles.

"Beg for me," he says, but it's more of a plea too. "Beg for my mouth. My touch. The way I make you feel. Beg for me ," he whispers, maintaining a firm twelve inches between our lips.

"Kiss me, Owen. Please." Did that come from me? I don't sound like myself. My voice is breathy and dripping with lust. "I need you to kiss me. I just… I need you."

I never thought the day would come where I'd beg Owen Conrad to kiss me… but here we are.

And I don't regret a single second.

"That's right, baby." His hold on my hair tightens on either side of my head, the extra tension heady. He's clearly hanging on by a thread—or a strand, in this case—and it's turning me on, hurling me into levels of horny I've never succumbed to. "Tell me how badly you need me to kiss you."

"So damn bad," I say on an exhale as he presses his body against mine. "Please. I can't take it any longer. I need you to freaking kiss me before I explode."

A low growl erupts from deep in his chest, and it vibrates between us. He shifts his hold on me, dropping his large hand to cup my cheek. "Finally," he rasps and leans in, but I don't angle my face to the side in time.

The bill of his hat hits my forehead, and I wince.

"Fuck. Sorry." He releases my hair and swivels his hat until it rests backward on his head, the bill out of sight and no longer a problem.

"You should wear your hat backward from now on," I say softly.

"Yeah?"

"That way, I can easily kiss you whenever I want."

"Done," he says without hesitation, and I believe him. He means it, and I don't think my heart could soar any higher without leaping from my body altogether.

"Kiss me already." My toes curl, and I bite the corner of my lip. "And Owen? Pull my hair again. Hard ."

He rams both hands into my hair, sweeping the short strands away from my face, and he fuses his mouth to mine in a kiss so delicious, I see not only stars, but rainbows and unicorns too.

Owen kisses me with fervor until the small vase of pink flowers and the picture frame next to it rattle on the mantel above my head.

I sink into him, wrapping my arms around his waist, and he yanks on my hair until the sting trickles down my spine with pleasure.

He meets my request with flying colors.

"Do you want to know what else I want?" I manage between breaths and hot kisses.

"Tell me."

"I want you to make me scream like you did the other night at the dance studio, but…"

He drags his lips across my jawline, grazing his teeth along my skin, and my eyes roll into the back of my head. "But, what?"

I moan as his fingertips dance along the column of my throat.

My lips part in preparation for another kiss, but he keeps his mouth a few centimeters away. He's toying with me, and the sensations it produces flit through my core in small bursts of arousal.

"But, what, angel?" he presses.

"I want you to… make me scream, but this time, while you… fuck me." My eyelids flutter open.

His body jolts, and the hand at my throat slips to the back of my neck, clinging to me like I'm the only thing keeping him upright. "I fucked you with my mouth and fingers."

I fist his shirt and bring the tip of my nose to his. "Tonight, I want this ." I drop my free hand between his legs and cup his large—and very hard—length.

"If you're sure…"

I meet his gaze. "I trust you, Owen."

His next kiss is all-consuming and hungry, and a zip of desire rips through my desperate core.

The items on the mantel rattle again as he wraps his arms around my waist and engulfs me. Turning us around, he drops his hands to cup my ass.

I'm so dazed, I don't immediately realize him literally sweeping me off me feet. I'm no longer on the floor. Instead, I climb higher and higher until I'm able to wrap my legs around him.

With half a step, he reaches the end of the bed and lays me down, his lips still locked on mine.

He's everywhere.

I'm wrapped in Owen, hot and safe and turned on.

His cologne, his hands, his mouth. It's everything I didn't know I'd been missing in my life.

He slides his hand down my stomach and inside the waistband of my leggings, my labored breaths echoing across the room.

The soft lighting from the lamps on each nightstand cast a glow over his features, and his lips twitch when he sinks a finger inside me. His body remains halfway on me as he quickly works me into a frenzy.

I gasp and moan as a second finger joins the first, and my hips buck into the air, the tension rising between my legs.

He increases his pace as I ride his hand. His body moves with mine, sliding up and down the bed as if he's chasing his own pleasure.

"Oh, Owen!" My eyes fly open as my stomach clenches just before my body trembles with release. In an attempt to hold on to him, I throw my hand around his neck and knock his hat off in the process.

That thing has been a hazard tonight.

I melt into the bed as my climax rocks my world, and my head spins.

"Loosening you up like this has become my new favorite thing." Owen kisses the corner of my parted lips.

"I'm definitely a fan, but don't you dare think for a second that I'll go soft on you because of this." My words of warning would mean a lot more if I weren't still squeezing his hand between my legs or if I weren't so breathless.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he plays along, smirking.

He knows exactly what he does to me—he turns me into a puddle. A happy, satisfied puddle of bliss. A greedy one too.

"I think I need more loosening up," I say with a hint of a challenge. "I'm still… so… tense."

"You drive me crazy," he says against my lips, then works my loose shirt over my head.

With eager fingers, I jerk his belt loose.

Our movements grow hungry, our breaths heavy.

"And you—" I clamp my mouth shut as he slides down the front of my writhing body, my leggings in tow. "You surprise me at every turn."

"Better be a good thing." He chucks my leggings over his shoulder, leaving me in nothing but my pink-and-white bra and panty set.

"Definitely." I mean it too.

I've meant everything I've said to him tonight.

Each time I scream his name while I'm at his mercy, it feels unexpectedly right.

He rakes his hooded gaze over my body, and I use the pause to my advantage.

His appearance is wild and free, his belt unfastened and the zipper of his pants resting open in a V . Red boxers peek through, and my mouth waters.

"Get over here," I demand.

"Yes, ma'am."

As he finishes undressing, I unhook my bra and wiggle out of my panties. My racing pulse further spikes when he retrieves a condom from his back pocket, drops his boxers, and works the rubber over his solid cock.

He's huge.

My gulp is more audible than I intended, and his eyes snap to mine.

"You ready, angel?"