Chapter 25

chapter

twenty-five

ADDIE

In the bathroom of the inn, I dig a tank top out of the bag I threw together just before I left. Had I planned this trip with more than a minute's notice, I would've made a list of things I'd need and crossed them off as I went.

At the very least, I would've neatly folded my clothes, but tearing them off the hangers and tossing them inside this bag was the best I could do with little time to spare.

I also would've packed something a little sexier than this old tank top.

Then again, this whole night has been unexpected. No amount of planning in advance could've prepared me for what happened with Owen.

Did I really ask him to fuck me like he meant it? And did I actually ride him like my life depended on it?

It was one of those moments in a journey of self-discovery that requires the top spot of a highlights section. Before tonight—before I climbed onto my co-worker and gyrated my hips like a hula dancer—I hadn't realized I'm still on a journey to find myself, but now that I've experienced such a phenomenon, it's hard to say I'm not.

Being on top of Owen, harnessing the power of my body and sexuality to suck him dry, was, in a word, spectacular . I felt things I'd never felt before—raw, thrilling arousal.

I was completely myself, and it seemed to hit all the right buttons for him.

He came while he was still inside me. He'd jerked and pulsed with so much vigor, it was a surprise he'd been able to walk just thirty minutes prior.

He'd turned red and feral, his eyes an even darker shade of green than they were at the end of dinner.

And he held me like I'd run away otherwise.

To be honest, I thought I might want to, but as I fluff my new hair and tame a few of the tangles, I don't have any itch to flee. There's no sense of dread in my throat or a wave of nausea through my stomach.

For once, my mind isn't racing with a million thoughts and responsibilities.

I'm at peace, like this was always supposed to happen between Owen and me. I don't know how to feel about that, but it's a contemplation for future me.

Over the last couple of weeks, I've come to realize I should take it day by day when it comes to Owen. He always surprises me, so it's useless to try and think ahead.

I use a damp washcloth to dab at the corners of my eyes for the runaway mascara, then apply a thin layer of lip balm before I exit, anticipation singeing my nerve endings as if the last few minutes away from him were enough for me to already miss him.

My heart thumps at the first glance of him.

Owen stands next to the bed as he tugs his shirt in place over his jeans. I catch him just in time for a glimpse of his abs, each hard muscle carved to perfection.

Once the fabric settles into place, I realize he's fully dressed, shoes and all. He's even wearing his hat, and while my chest warms with the sight of it on backward, just as he promised, my stomach drops.

He's clearly ready to go, while I stand in the bathroom doorway in nothing but my tank top and panties. "Are you leaving?"

He turns to face me. "Yes."

"Oh." I shift onto my bare right heel. "Right. You should go. Why would you stay in Savannah for the night? It's not like we should cuddle until the sun rises and enjoy French toast in the morning. You definitely don't want to come to the spa with me, either. Or maybe you do. Do you like facials?"

Owen rounds the corner of the bed and sits on the edge.

"Because guys can like facials. We all have acne and buildup on our faces. It's natural," I continue rambling. "Facials are for everyone."

Did my voice grow louder? I'm yelling, aren't I? Although I believe what I'm saying, I don't know why I'm saying it as if I'm on a soap box, enlightening a room full of judgy people.

"A facial sounds fun."

"You can come," I offer and fidget with my hands. "I might add a manicure to my appointment too. I've destroyed my cuticles over the last two weeks from all the stress."

"You deserve to relax," he says coolly, completely the opposite of how I'm feeling.

I should let him go. We did what we did, and it's over now. Cuddling and getting breakfast together are two things real couples do, and we are not one.

Or are we?

I've never had sex with anyone who wasn't my confirmed boyfriend, but it feels too neurotic and inappropriate to ask Owen "What are we?" right now.

Or is it very appropriate?

He's the one who insisted a single night with me wouldn't be enough. It wouldn't be totally out of line if I were to ask.

"I'll need to head back in the morning to help Lottie at the studio," he says, thankfully interrupting my emotional spiral. "She's hosting a special brunch event."

"A Boozy Brunch—I've seen posts for it on social media."

"That's the one."

"So, you're going to leave in the morning, then?" I lift a brow, internally cringing over how hopeful I sound. There is no subtle bone in my body right now. Owen turned my limbs to mush with his magic penis.

"If that's all right with you, angel." He threads his fingers together in his lap, again as cool as a slice of watermelon.

It's unnerving, but I try to muster a modicum, at the very least, of nonchalance. Shrugging, I simply say, "Fine."

His lip twitches, and I can tell he so badly wants to smirk.

"It's just that you have your hat and shoes on, so when you said you were leaving, I thought you meant right now."

"I did—I do." He rises and meets me toe to toe, his large frame towering over me. He captures my chin between his thumb and forefinger, and with his mouth hovering over mine, he adds, "I'm craving ice cream. I was hoping we could go get some together."

"Oh. Um…" I gulp. "I'll put pants on."

"Good idea." He winks, then plants a heavy kiss on my lips.

Heat spreads across my cheeks and down to my core. By the time he breaks our connection, I'm floating, and I forget what I'm supposed to be doing.

I forget all thoughts that don't involve stripping him naked and climbing on top of him again.

"Pants, Lockhart." He nods to his side, where my leggings landed after he tossed them over his shoulder earlier.

"I know." I stick my tongue out as I bend over to scoop them up. "Where do you want to go for ice cream? Leopold's is closed, but we could try somewhere else."

"I have somewhere in mind, if you like surprises."

"You'll have to tell me, because I'm driving."

"I can drive."

"I know you can—obviously—but I'll be driving now."

"This is my idea. Seems like I should drive."

I shimmy my leggings into place and bring my hands to my hips. "Then have fun with your idea alone. I'll wait here."

"You are the most stubborn person I know."

"Strong-willed and independent, you mean? That's okay. People mistake such qualities for stubbornness all the time." I flash him a sarcastic smile.

"Fine." He shakes his head. "You drive; I'll give directions."

"You could've just said Dairy Queen." I roll into the drive-thru. "It's hardly a hidden gem you needed to surprise me with."

"I like surprising you, especially with my huge?—"

"Don't," I warn.

"—dick." From the passenger's side, Owen exaggerates an exhale. "Damn. Feels good to finally finish a dirty sentence like that."

Flashes of his very large appendage fitting so tightly between my legs in the best, most delicious way render my body hostage.

My skin tingles with remnants of his touch and his kisses.

He gripped my hips so hard I'm sure I'll bruise by the morning, and I ate up every second. For the first time in my life, I actually wish we would've recorded ourselves just so I'd have proof that it happened.

And so I wouldn't forget a single thing, not that there's any chance of that happening, but still.

A sex video? I'm wishing for scandalous sex videos now?

What spell does Owen have me under?

I pull the window down to prepare for our turn as soon as the sedan in front of us moves forward. "Doesn't relate to why this would be a surprise."

"Sometimes, it's all about the little things."

"You just said it's the huge things—or thing, in this case."

He throws his head back and laughs. The hearty sound echoes out my open window, drifting into the night, and I smile too. I don't remember a time when I've had that much of an effect on his funny bone. He and I don't exactly have a similar sense of humor.

"I knew you thought it was huge," he says as I assume the sedan's spot at the speaker, which crackles with static before a voice greets us.

"Order whenever you're ready," they say.

"What do you want?" I ask Owen as I scan the menu, contemplating what mood I'm in—fruity or chocolatey.

"If I said you, is that sappy, romantic, or both?"

"Now is not the time for such grand ponderings, Owen," I hiss, but my smile is natural. I can't stop it any more than I can stop my heart from beating so fast because of him.

"Fine," he draws out. "I'll take a cookie dough blizzard, please."

"I'm thinking strawberry cheesecake," I say, but it's mostly to myself.

With our orders in place, I curve around the path toward the window, where Owen reaches his long arm across my chest and hands the scrawny teen his credit card. Once the window closes, I shrug Owen off me and declare, "I could've paid."

"You're driving. It's only fair that I pay."

I tsk as the window slides open again. I can't easily reach the two cups, so I use my window to leverage myself and rise halfway out of my seat.

Which is when I feel a pinch on my ass.

Yelping, I nearly drop the sweet cargo onto the asphalt outside. "What do you think you're doing?" I whisper-scream toward Owen as I nestle the two treats inside my cupholders.

"Wasn't it obvious? Your ass was right there for the squeezing, and if you didn't think I'd take the opportunity, then you don't know me at all." He snorts and holds his shoulders high, clearly proud of himself.

He's ridiculous and goofy, but he's also safe and strong. I like the mix of qualities in him. They work as well as the wild combinations at the restaurant earlier tonight.

And I like that he can't help himself around me. How long has it been since I felt so desired? Since a guy just couldn't keep his hands off me?

Too long .

If I were told two weeks ago that Owen Conrad would be the one to end my dry spell, I would've cackled until tears streamed down my face.

But peeking over at him, even as he licks the melting ice cream off the edge of his cup like an animal, I'm glad it was him.