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.