Wrong thought, wrong thought, I desperately tried to tell myself. Only I was no longer listening to that voice in my head. It was my body that was in charge. Senses had become more important than thought.
So I moved my face upwards, allowing it to be directed by the heat coming from his own. His chin was tilted down, his hazel eyes flashing and wild in the bright hallway light. Every cell in my body jerked, crying to be melded with his.
“Claire,” Owen whispered. “I…” He faltered.
I swallowed hard. “You don’t have to say anything.”
I pushed my weight forward onto my toes, giving myself the last bit of height needed for our lips to collide.
But when they did touch, it was the opposite of what I thought it would be. There was no collision, no crashing. It was a meeting of two mouths that fit and moved perfectly together. His lips read mine. Or my lips read his. I didn’t even know which way it went, but our mouths seemed to know each other. They moved at the same pace, the same flow.
The softness from Owen’s kiss swept across my body, enveloping me in a haze. There were no thoughts. There was no moment beyond the one we were caught in. I could float away, lost to the world, and as long as he was kissing me, I would never once think about what I’d left behind.
I pressed forward and wrapped my arms around his neck, only one intention in mind.
“Take me to your makeshift bedroom,” I whispered into his open mouth.
I braced myself slightly, waiting for the “no, we shouldn’t” or “are you sure?” gestures. But a response never came. Instead, Owen wrapped one arm around my back and one under my hips. His mouth still against mine, he lifted me up.
Time sped up. It slowed down. It swirled around us. It did all of those things it’s not supposed to do. Owen walked backwards and spun around. Suddenly, we were at his bed, and he was laying me down on the quilt there. He moved forward, his weight pressing against me. His hands grabbed hold of mine, his fingers winding tight with my own. Just like our lips, our hands fit perfectly together. The realization caused an explosion in my chest, little fireworks popping over and over.
What had I stumbled into? How could this man I didn’t even want to feel things for fit against my body like he’d been crafted for me?
Owen kissed me harder, his tongue pushing into my mouth. All questions dissolved.
One of his hands moved down, sliding across my jaw and down my neck, then down the side of my torso. I trembled under his touch, shaking beneath his palm.
Hot kisses moved across my cheek and to my ear. Owen muttered something that must have been my name, but I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t hear, could barely see. Only delicious heat and the need to be touched by him existed.
“Take my clothes off,” I gasped through the fever.
His tongue darted into my ear, and I moaned. The hand that had traveled southward grasped onto the waistband of my shorts. He yanked, smoothly slipping them down around my thighs. His hand didn’t go to where I thought it would though. Instead, it traveled to my knee and down, massaging the length of my leg. My thighs fell open, begging for more.
Owen kissed me slower, his tongue dancing languidly over mine. His fingers trailed back up, grazing along the inside of my thigh. Unexpectedly, the very tip of his finger flicked over my mound. I cried out into his mouth. He responded by making his own satisfied sound and pressing his palm hard against me.
A smooth finger slipped inside of me, curving up and pressing against the ridges there. My hips jerked as pleasure shot through me. Owen growled and moved his mouth down and over my throat. His teeth grazed against my skin, rough and savage, but his hands were tender and delicate. He probed me with one hand while the other slipped underneath my loose t-shirt and up and over my breasts.
His fingers found a nipple and twisted lightly, rolling the hard nub between them. Owen sucked my neck harder, and with each motion of his fingers or mouth, I became more and more lightheaded.
I grabbed his hair in one hand, holding onto it at the roots. My other hand went to his back, slipping down the ridges there. My fingers extended just to the waistband of his pants. I tugged slightly, aching to get beneath the layers of clothing.
Owen’s fingers rubbed the aching spot inside of me and another wave of pleasure hit. Fever racked my body. I wanted to feel each bit of his flesh on mine. I wanted to taste his skin, have the saltiness of his sweat sit on my tongue. More than all of that, though, I wanted him inside of me.
“Take your pants off,” I gasped.
Immediately, he stood up, taking my shorts with him. He slid them off my feet and dropped them to the floor. I lifted up onto my forearms and watched him, the loose shirt soaked in his scent tangled about me.
Owen unbuttoned his shorts and tugged, sending them to the floor along with his underwear. His length pushed forward, smooth and slick. I sucked in a sharp breath. The anticipation thrummed in me, sparking in my very fingertips.
Owen crawled back onto me, and there was a new fever in the action, a neediness that hadn’t been there before. His lips locked back on mine, moving in the familiar rhythm they’d already established. The end of his cock slid across my thigh, warm and slightly wet. He moved forward a little further and it brushed against my opening. I wrapped my arms around him, drawing his torso closer towards mine.
“Hold on,” he gasped.
Jumping off the mattress, he rummaged underneath the bed for something. I remained still, listening to my breath coming out ragged and harsh. Owen found what he was looking for and stood up, slipping the condom onto his shaft with both hands. He collapsed back onto me. As we kissed, he pulled my shirt up and over my head. Our lips broke contact for a moment to let the shirt pass through, but then they were back, not wasting another second.
Owen pushed into me, spreading my walls and filling me up. I cried into his mouth, and he grasped my face in his hands, kissing me until the cry was muffled. He moved slowly, each thrust achingly deliberate.
I shook beneath his weight, quaking from the drawn out ecstasy. I pushed my hips up towards him, getting him even deeper inside of me. Still, he went tantalizingly slow. Inch by inch, the pleasure grew, gaining momentum gradually.
The ecstasy stretched out, rippling through me. I bit his lip, and he gently bit back.
I began to shake all over again, the aftershocks of the orgasm surging through me.
I clutched Owen tighter, my fingertips burrowing into his skin. He slid his hands underneath my lower back and lifted me up, pressing me into him. Wave after wave of pleasure struck me, building on top of each other once more. Sweat slid between our chests and dripped down his neck and arms. I gasped from exhaustion, tired from simply feeling so much, but not wanting it to stop for even one second.
Owen picked up the pace, and another orgasm hit me like a tidal wave, carrying me up and away. He moaned into my mouth as he let himself go. I grasped the back of his head, pressing his mouth into mine, melding our tongues together.
With one last sway, he stilled. Nothing moved but our lips. We kissed and kissed. The fan above us whirred, spinning me away with it.
Sweat and heat filled my mouth. I couldn’t pull away from his lips. I never wanted to pull away from his lips.
*
I stared up at the ceiling fan. A bit of dappled light danced across the boards next to it. It came from the pool. The pool that had started this whole thing.
Owen’s even breathing filled the room. In and out. It almost lulled me back to sleep. Almost.
I didn’t know how long I’d slept, and I didn’t know how long I’d been awake. All I knew was the emotional hurricane tearing me apart.
Owen shifted slightly in his sleep, and I tensed. I held my breath, waiting. When he didn’t wake up or move again, I exhaled softly and looked at him.
His soft brown hair… long, silky eyelashes. The stubble across his cheeks and jaw. My heart broke just looking at him.
I was falling for the man. Falling hard.
> And it wasn’t the blissful kind of free fall. No, I was flailing my arms around, trying to get back to the cliff’s edge I’d gotten knocked over.
Or jumped, since it was all my own fault. I could have stayed away from him if only I had decided to. And now there I was, tangled up in his sheets and his life.
He was a good man. He deserved more than the mess that was me. Sooner or later I would hurt him. And though I’d been living in pain myself for the last five months, I couldn’t inflict that agony on anyone else.
My heart hammered in my chest, and nausea swept over me. Run. I had to run. I had to get the fuck out of there.
Forcing myself to breathe evenly and move slowly, I gingerly lifted the sheet off of myself. Keeping one eye on Owen, I slid out of bed and into the hallway.
My clothes were still damp, but I put them on anyway. Not wanting to risk going back into Owen’s room, I left the shorts and shirt he’d loaned me in the bathroom then grabbed my shoes and scurried into the living room for my purse.
I held my breath as I unlocked and opened the front door. Re-locking the handle behind me, I gently closed it. Just as gently, I inched across the rickety porch and down the steps.
The second my feet hit the grass, I went into warp drive. I ran. I ran as fast as I could, across the yard and onto the sidewalk.
I ran down the street and around the corner, pumping my arms and gasping for air.
Owen wouldn’t catch me, I knew. He was back at the house, sleeping soundly. No one would catch me.
No one ever.
That was the truth, and so I ran even faster in an effort to forget it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Owen
Please just let me know you’re all right.
That’s the text I sent when I’d woken up and found Claire gone.
I should have expected as much. Really. Who had I been, thinking that we would hook up and then ride away into the sunset together? As if sex was enough?
I hadn’t listened to the part of myself that wanted to be careful. Instead, I’d gone with my emotions, my body — the parts of myself that, unfortunately, possessed voices that were much louder than my mind.
Maybe if I had managed to control myself things would have turned out better. I would have driven her home, and we would have had a chance. We could have hung out again and perhaps eventually grown close.
But I’d acted rashly and, consequently, pushed her away.
I clenched the edge of the sink and stared out at the trees in the backyard. I couldn’t bring myself to look at the mother fucking pool.
On the counter top, my phone buzzed. I snatched it up, praying Claire had texted me back.
Not a text. She was calling. Quickly, I swiped the answer button.
“Hello?”
“Hi.” Her voice was low, uncertain.
The silence hung heavy. I searched for the right thing to say — the thing that wouldn’t result in her running even farther away than she already had.
“I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“Yeah,” she answered, her voice heavy and thick. Had she been crying? “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
“Claire, it’s all right… don’t…” I trailed off, not even sure what I was going to say.
“I should have at least left a note.”
My chest constricted. So she wasn’t sorry about leaving in the first place? She was just apologizing for not letting me know where she’d gone? Or was she apologizing for having sex with me?
I sighed and rubbed my face. “I acted rashly. I pushed it.”
“No, you didn’t. Don’t say that. It was me. And while it was happening…”
Memories from the night before hit me, dozens of them flooding my inner vision all at once. I pushed them away. From there on out their presence would cause me nothing but pain.
“It was nice,” she finished, then sighed. “God…”
I clamped my teeth down to stop myself from speaking too soon. It could keep being nice, I wanted to say. It doesn’t have to stop.
I couldn’t tell Claire what was best for her though. I wasn’t her therapist, and it wasn’t my place.
She went on. “I’m sorry I did that to you.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me, Claire.”
She really didn’t, but the hurt side of me wanted her to. It wanted reparations for having gotten its hopes up for no reason. An even smaller part of me wanted her to feel a semblance of the pain I felt. I pushed that vile side down, trampling it into the dirt with all my will. Having never walked in her shoes, there was no way I could understand everything Claire had been through.
But I also didn’t want to be subject to her damage again. Waking up that morning and finding Claire gone had broken me in two.
There was a bit of noise on the other end of the line, like furniture or boards creaking.
“I do have to apologize,” she said. “So please let me. I… I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be with other people… to just be normal.”
My throat burned. I swallowed hard, but it did nothing to cool the fire. “You need space. And time.” I ran my palm over my eyes. “I’m not gonna lie, I wish you were already at that place… that place where…” I didn’t want to finish the sentence, didn’t want to assume what she needed.
“I know,” she whispered sadly. “Look, I gotta go.”
“Um, all right.”
Just like that? I had expected a little more to the conversation, maybe the promise that we could still be friends.
“I’m going back to New York tomorrow,” she explained. “But I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
I’m sure I’ll see you around?
So this was really it. This was the end. Claire didn’t even want to talk to me anymore.
An angry and hurt beast thrashed in my chest. I thought of saying so many things. You hurt me… I care for you, Claire… I might even love you… Just let me in… Don’t do this. They were all emotional statements, though, and I had just enough awareness left to know that I didn’t have control of myself.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll see you around.”
The line went silent. She was gone.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Claire
I sat hunched over my desk, rubbing my aching temples. On the other side of my glass office walls, the chatter continued on. Everyone was busy with their day. Everyone was efficient and, for the most part, in a good mood. And there I was, putting all my energy into just acting like I was doing anything but falling apart.
I couldn’t break down again. My reputation at the company was already within an inch of going down the drain thanks to that breakdown I had in the bathroom months ago.
I’d hardly slept at all the night before, though, and Saturday night had been the same deal. I hated myself for what I’d done to Owen. I hated myself for putting myself in such a position, for letting myself get even more confused and afraid. I’d known I wasn’t ready and still I hadn’t been able to keep my hands off the man.
He probably hated me. I cringed to think of it, but perhaps it was for the best. If he hated me, then he would be able to move on to forgetting me much sooner than if he actually liked me.
Straightening up, I opened the middle drawer of the desk. When I’d first gotten the new office, everything had been immaculate in it, and I’d made sure to keep it that way. Not a paper clip had been out of place. Now the room was anything but organized.
I pushed some crumpled up receipts to the side, looking desperately for the bottle of Tylenol stashed somewhere in the drawer.
My phone rang, and I gave up. I glanced at the caller ID. Jason.
I pressed the speaker button. “Yes?”
“Claire, will you come into my office for a minute, please?”
I bit my bottom lip and tasted the lipstick I’d poorly swiped on there. “I’ll be right there.”
I hung up and stood, feeling anxious. There was a sick fee
ling in my stomach that told me Jason wasn’t calling me in to talk about the new California properties or ask if I’d gotten someone to order a cake for Steven in Human Resources birthday party on Wednesday.
Maybe it was my own anxieties. Maybe it was the fact that everything seemed to be going topsy-turvy in my life. If there were any bombs left to be dropped, it was only a matter of time before the release buttons were hit.
I left my office and took the short walk down the hallway to Jason’s. He sat behind his desk, two walls of windows flanking either side of him. He waited for me with his hands folded. One second through the door and my stomach twisted.
“You look tired,” he said by way of greeting.
“I’m fine,” I lied. “Thank you.”
His lips twisted a bit, and a far off look entered his eyes. “I’m concerned,” he slowly began. “About Gwen.”
I held back the sigh of relief. Enough attention had been paid to me in the last five months. I’d caused my family and my company enough harm. Part of me had expected to walk into Jason’s office and be fired. I knew that really wouldn’t happen, but in a way, I did feel like I deserved it. I’d done enough; asked for enough.
Yes, Gwen. We needed to focus on Gwen.
The bonus being doing so would get my mind off Owen.
“What about her?”
“How did she seem this weekend?”
I thought back to the last few days, trying to screen out the parts that included Owen. “Well, she seemed all right at first, other than being kind of stressed. But then…”
Sunday. We’d gone with Mom to look at bridesmaids’ dresses for the hundredth time, and Gwen had cried in the middle of the store when they didn’t have the lavender gown she liked in my size. I’d told her it was no big deal. We could find another dress that was just as nice. It hadn’t been about the dress, though. Not really. It had been everything.
Mostly she’d just been holding in the stress of the last few months. She’d been doing it for my benefit, probably thinking I didn’t know just how poorly she’d been faring. Her life was chaotic though. Anyone could see it.
And instead of helping, I’d added to it. The whole thing sucked balls.
Crushed (Crystal Brook Billionaires) Page 15