Falling for You

by Travis, Stacy

  “Like good housekeeping cute. I like that you’re not a slob.” I reached up, grabbed the hem of his shirt and pushed it up, revealing those honed, sculpted abs that had been on my mind for days.

  He smirked. “I don’t like getting into an unmade bed at night, so . . .”

  I stopped him by running my tongue down the length of his abs and teasing the skin beneath his waistband. “I’m not thinking about housekeeping anymore.”

  “Excellent.” He brushed a few strands of hair off my forehead as his eyes moved over my face.

  His hands cupped my cheeks while his eyes settled on my lips. His eyes were playful.

  “I think we need to mess up these covers,” he said, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

  He bent down with the barest hint of a kiss. It was just a brush of his lips and it lit every one of my nerve endings on fire.

  “Yes, please . . .” My voice sounded breathless.

  I wanted more. I reached for his face and held it tight, delving in for a deeper kiss, a swipe of his tongue, and more of his mouth moving against mine.

  This was everything I’d never felt for a year when I was with Tom, but after realizing that important truth, I scrubbed Tom from my mind and put all my focus on the present. Because being with Owen overwhelmed my senses and pretty much made thinking impossible.

  His gaze trailed over me like he was trying to decide which part of me to have for dessert.

  He moved his hands beneath the hem of my T-shirt and lifted it over my head. I hadn’t planned on having anyone see my bra, which was plain beige with a lace edge, but I was too consumed by him to care what he thought of it.

  Owen dipped down and kissed my breast over the thin silk fabric, his hand cupping and massaging my other breast. A quiet sigh escaped my lips as my nipples hardened and he rolled his thumbs over them. I quivered under his touch.

  “Owen . . .” It was a whisper and a command and a plea.

  There had been men in my life, but this was different. Maybe it was the unfettered joy of not having to worry about a relationship or where it was headed. Every touch felt so good.

  I reached around and unclasped my bra. Too much fabric, not enough of his glorious tongue. He watched me toss it to the floor, and his eyes roamed from my face to my breasts.

  “You’re beautiful and I don’t think you even know it. Which is so fucking sexy.”

  He ran a single finger along the slope of my cheek, along my jaw and down to where he traced the contours of each breast. All the while his gaze made me feel appreciated in a way I needed. Then his warm lips lowered onto my skin, his tongue circling one nipple before he took it in his mouth.

  To hell with my bakery plans and my ex.

  As he worked my very average sized breasts and hummed in appreciation, Owen nudged me toward seeing myself through his eyes and what I saw made me irrationally happy.

  I reached for him and pushed his shirt up over his head, practically gasping when I saw the carved muscles of his abs. “Holy crap, are you a professional athlete also?”

  He smirked. “I have to do something to work off all your bread.”

  “You’re ridiculous. And freaking hot.”

  It was a sin how gorgeous this man’s chest was and I felt a desperate need to have my hands on it. And my tongue.

  I gripped his strong shoulders, appreciating every swell and sinew of his muscle tone.

  My hands continued their tour of his chest his defined abs, appreciating the hell out of whatever workout he did to get them. The V of muscles directed my eyes and my hands down to where they wanted to go next.

  But he lifted me up before I got any farther and

  I straddled his lap, my legs wrapped tight, the heat of our bare skin melting us against each other. I circled my arms around him and held him closer, feeling his throbbing erection pressed hard against me.

  “Tell me something, Isla…” he whispered in my ear, following with a lingering kiss.

  “I’ll tell you anything.” It was mind control, pure and simple. If I was in charge of state secrets, national security would be totally blown.

  “If I were to slide your panties down your legs, would I find you wet for me?”

  If I hadn’t been already, the growl of his voice vibrating against my skin would have clinched it. “Yes,” I said on a sigh. “Take them off, please.”

  “Soon,” he whispered, making the heat pool at my center and my body throb in anticipation.

  Digging my fingers into the muscles of his shoulders, I relished the feeling of him pressed against me, his length hard against my center as he ground his hips lightly. Then harder.

  Until I was desperate for more and he knew it.

  Owen’s hands were in my hair and his mouth worked over mine. I bit his bottom lip and he kissed me harder. Our tongues wrapped and tangled and stroked.

  “This is . . . please . . . I want you . . .” I breathed, unsure if my garbled thoughts were making sense.

  He smiled and dropped a gentle kiss on my forehead, then my nose. Finally, my lips. “You’ve got me. I want to do things to your body that will make you sore for days . . . I want to taste you . . . Tell me you want that.”

  I nodded like a victim of zombie mind control. He could do whatever he wanted. I officially relinquished the reins.

  Laying me back down on the bed, Owen slid the very unsexy baggy pants down my hips and stared appreciatively at the slightly sexier beige panties that coincidentally matched my bra.

  Finally, karma had done me a solid when I rummaged through my drawers that morning.

  Hooking his finger in the waistband, he slid them down. His eyes were fixed on mine, watching my reaction to him and my anticipation of what he planned to do.

  Then his gaze shifted down to the final part of my body he’d revealed. I saw the storm build in his eyes before he moved farther down the bed to where he settled between my legs.

  “Oh, baby,” he said, gently opening my legs to the sides. “You are gorgeous.”

  He kissed the inside of my knee, lingering there until I thought I’d melt out of my skin. Only then did he begin moving slowly along my inner thigh with more light kisses that made my toes curl, torturing me in the most sublime of ways.

  I grabbed fistfuls of the comforter in my hands. Then I pushed my hands in his hair as my head tipped back.

  One finger circled my entrance. Slowly, painstakingly. Until I just about died from the pleasure of his touch.

  Then he moved farther away and I nearly whimpered at the loss of him.

  “Patience, grasshopper.” He returned with another string of kisses that ended at the top of my inner thigh.

  Then finally, finally, he placed one soft, searing hot kiss to my center.

  Now I was moaning because the feel of one kiss was so intense I almost couldn’t take it.

  His tongue circled and roamed, tasting and worshipping me in a way that left me breathless and quivering. He slid a single finger inside, while continuing the assault with his tongue. Circling, building, sucking on the most sensitive part of me, until I started to lose the line between us.

  I’d sign over all of my decision making to him and let him take me wherever and however he wanted.

  “Come for me, Isla.”

  He didn’t have to ask twice.

  I was already there, riding the pleasure wave higher and higher. I felt waves of hazy heat rolling and cascading through my body. Nothing made sense except the feeling of him and wanting it to last forever.

  I silently cursed every man I’d ever met before him for hindering my path to him.

  He was the destination.

  “Owen . . . oh my God.”

  “Yeah?” He looked a little smug. As he should. He also looked ready for more.

  “Oh yeah.” I made quick work of unfastening his belt buckle and pushing his pants down. Okay, what the hell—the boxers should go too. He didn’t seem troubled by my haste.

  Then . . . wow. He was magnificent and th
ick and hard. I loved how determined he looked when he wanted me.

  His eyes dilated as a ran a finger down his length and back up, circling the tip. They stayed locked on mine as I wrapped my hand around his shaft and stroked.

  “I’m not gonna make it for long if you keep doing that . . .” His voice was husky and strained.

  I smiled. “You’ll make it. I have faith in you.”

  He leaned to the bedside table drawer and quickly grabbed a condom, which he unwrapped and handed to me. “Would you like to?”

  I nodded. I liked it very much, the feel of him jumping at my touch as I rolled the condom on. “Thanks for having faith in me,” he said.

  I thought he was responding to what I’d just said, but a part of me wondered if he had a deeper meaning. Then I didn’t have the wherewithal to think much of anything because he was sliding inside me, inch by incredible inch.

  Staring into his eyes, I saw the pleasure splay across his features when he started to move—slowly at first, circling his hips and hitting all the pleasure spots.

  I was already starting to build again.

  Every shift in position felt better than the last. Every movement brought me more pleasure. Everything fit.

  My nails raked over his back as we moved in perfect rhythm. I felt myself crest a higher peak than where I’d been just minutes before.

  How did he do this to me? It was unreal.

  My core was contracting around him as though screaming for more. And he gave it to me.

  My orgasm unfolded like a lightning bolt, lifting me higher, but he found ways to push me higher still. Then I was careening off a cliff at warp speed, falling into a beautiful abyss, and his body was following right behind.

  I crested the peak and felt his final thrusts.

  In his eyes, I saw the same amazement I felt.

  It was like we had to double check with each other—that was pretty fucking incredible, right?

  Yes. Yes, it was.

  Chapter 16

  Isla

  For the next few days, I avoided thinking about whether it was a good idea to have phenomenal sex with my new friend Owen.

  Lying in his bed with his arm draped across my chest and my leg looped over his, there was no question that it was a very good idea. But there was also no question that I wasn’t in a position to be dating.

  So the new us—whatever we decided we were—had to be casual.

  We had to agree.

  I didn’t want him to invest in me and get hurt because I had no idea what I wanted or what I could give. In the aftermath of Tom, I needed to take time to become whole again.

  And I needed to be honest with Owen about what that meant.

  The warmth of his body felt so good tangled with mine and I didn’t want to ruin the moment. Maybe the just friends talk could wait.

  The midday sun was peeking between two buildings had the effect of casting long bright beams across the white of Owen’s bed and the couch I hadn’t noticed at the foot of the bed. Once I noticed it, I was distracted by thoughts of how to incorporate it into another round of what had turned out to be the kind of sex I’d only read about in romance novels.

  I must have stiffened because Owen rolled onto his side and cupped his hand around my cheek. It was something I’d noticed that he did—when he was reacting to something I’d said, he’d caress my cheek. It was such a sweet and lovely gesture and I didn’t dare say anything lest he feel self-conscious and stop doing it.

  He leaned on one elbow and studied my face. “What’s up?”

  I smiled at him. “Nothing. I’m good.”

  “Liar. What?”

  I loved that he could tell just from a subtle shift in my body that something had changed. I wasn’t used to someone who knew me that well, and it was a little shocking that he knew me so well so quickly.

  “Ugh, it’s crazy, right? That I could be so completely lost and transported by you one minute, but then reality shoved its stupid nose under the tent and now I’m thinking again.”

  “I’m going to focus on the part where you were transported.”

  “You should. That was a very good part. You have many talents.”

  He smiled and kissed me, and I wanted to get lost in him again. It seemed to be the only way to stop me from thinking about everything else going on in my life.

  I rolled to face him and kissed him more deeply, searching for his tongue and savoring the taste of him again.

  Owen pulled back and kissed me lightly before tilting his forehead against mine. “Talk to me, Isla.”

  “I’d rather kiss you.”

  He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it. “That works for me as well, but it’s also avoidance. C’mon. We’re friends, you should tell me what’s on your mind. That’s what friends do.”

  He was right and I had to appreciate that he was being a friend even if it meant we had to talk instead of kiss.

  “I’m kind of a mess,” I said.

  “Hardly.”

  “Well, I’ve lost my mind, you know that, right? It’s barely a week since I broke up with Tom. In that span of time, I’ve gone from being in a dead-end relationship to round-the-clock sex. My work life is falling apart, my sisters are pushing artificial insemination on me, and my emotions are all over the map.”

  “All normal. Although I didn’t know about the insemination part. We should talk about that.”

  “I’m not doing it.”

  “Good because I’d be offended if you didn’t at least consider me. As a friend, I’m there for you.”

  Is he serious?

  I cocked an eyebrow at him. “You’re kidding, right? You want to go from being my friend to my baby daddy?”

  “You really like titles, huh?" He shrugged as though the idea wasn’t as crazy as it clearly was. “I’m just saying if you needed me . . .”

  I shook my head. I couldn’t add more crazy ideas to the ones I’d finally put to rest. “No. Not having a kid unless it’s for the right reasons. It’s a non-issue, end of discussion.”

  “What were your wrong reasons?” Owen fixed his eyes on mine, and his thoughtful gaze made me feel like he’d listen without judgement.

  He was interested, not scandalized.

  I looked away for a moment, but he guided my chin back so I was looking at him again. “The wrong reason would be that my ovaries are getting tired of firing off practice rounds and maybe, at thirty-four, I should get on with it.”

  “Do you want to have kids?” His gaze remained steady and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  I nodded. “I do. Just not right now and not necessarily by myself.” I shook my head. “It’s not happening. I don’t know why I brought it up.”

  My hand was curled around Owen’s shoulder and I moved it down his arm until I clasped his hand and intertwined our fingers. “I like that we’re friends. I like hanging out with you.”

  He squeezed my hand. “I like hanging out with you too. And I don’t think you’re a mess.”

  “So you’re good with the friends-with-benefits thing we’ve got going here?”

  “Another title.”

  I looked at him to see if he seemed offended. His expression was controlled.

  “I think I need the title. I like knowing that we’re both on the same page,” I said.

  He nodded and rolled onto his back. “Okay, then that’s what we’ll call it.”

  An almost imperceptible flash of something shifted his expression—whether it was sadness, annoyance, or a fleck of dust in his eye, I couldn’t be sure—and then it was gone.

  I continued watching him to see if it would reappear, but his face was unreadable, still bearing the contented look he’d had since I walked in the door.

  “Yes, we’re on the same page. I wasn’t under the mistaken impression we were suddenly dating. Don’t worry.”

  But I did worry.

  He was so nice. I didn’t want him to get hurt if I was working out my relationship aftermath at his expen
se.

  Owen seemed fine with everything that had happened between us so far, so maybe I needed to relax. Rebound sex or friends with benefits or whatever this temporary thing was, it was supposed to be fun.

  No analysis necessary. That was the point.

  I inhaled deeply and moved to rest my head on his chest, but he let go of my hand and slid to the edge of the bed where he’d thrown his pants. He reached down and retrieved my clothes from the floor and put them on the bed near me.

  His eyes were bright when he turned to me, smiling. “You distracted me a bit from the next real estate lesson I had planned for you. In the best possible way.” He put his elbows on the bed and leaned in to scoop me into his arms. He kissed my lips and set my feet gently on the floor. “Should we give it another go, friend?” he asked.

  “Sure.” I nodded and pulled my pile of clothes against my chest. He made quick work of getting dressed and walked to the doorway.

  “Take your time. I’ll make us some coffee.”

  “I believe I was promised unhealthy snack food when you lured me here,” I called after him.

  He stuck his head back through the doorway with a wink. “I always keep my promises. By the way, when’s the next day you have time off from the shop?”

  “Next Thursday afternoon. Or Friday. Why?”

  “Will you hold those dates for me? Field trip. More research. Trust me.”

  “Sure.” I watched him go and heard him humming a Roxy Music song we’d been listening to earlier. When I looked down at my clothes, I was suddenly aware that I’d been frozen there naked and I should get dressed.

  Was I crazy to think he’d jumped out of bed abruptly? Did I make him uncomfortable with my friends-with-benefits comments?

  I couldn’t imagine too many guys who’d balk at the arrangement, and he’d hardly been complaining.

  That led me to conclude that Owen was fine.

  He was fine.

  The bigger question was . . . was I?

  Chapter 17

  Owen

  We were sitting on a patch of grass in Alamo Square Park near the Painted Ladies down the block from Isla’s house. The area was shaded by tall Monterey cypress trees, each with multiple trunks soaring up into the late afternoon sky.