“This is an unbelievable chance I got tonight. I’m not going to blow it,” Owen said. “You don’t mess with fate. This has to be fate.”
“How you getting home?” Dante said. Dante had driven them there.
“Let’s hope she has a car.”
Dante grunted a response.
“What time are you coming home tonight?” Owen asked.
“Late,” Dante said. “But I’ll be back. So don’t y’all be gettin’ freaky in my living room.”
“Good night,” Owen said. Dante grumbled a reply as Owen ran over to Marci who was now standing near the entrance to the bar.
“Did you drive?” Owen asked.
Marci nodded. “You have a car here?”
“Nah.”
“I’ve only had one whiskey, but it made me so dizzy, which is not normal for me. I guess it goes with this whole strange week.” She held up a BMW key fob. “You want to drive?”
“Yeah. I’m good to drive.” He’d never gotten around to ordering a beer after being distracted by Marci from the time he realized she was in the bar earlier that night.
She led the way out to her car, and he watched the way her hips moved in her jeans until she stopped moving. He looked up and saw a silver seven series BMW in front of them, and it was all he could do to keep his jaw from dropping open.
“This is it.” She hit the unlock button and dropped the key fob into her purse. They got into the car, and Owen pushed the button to start the engine.
“This is nice,” Owen said, trying to keep his tone casual.
Marci shrugged. “I guess. I didn’t ask for it if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not some spoiled rich brat or someone who thinks she needs to impress people with what she drives or with anything else.” She sounded a little bitter about this subject. “Sorry. I’m gonna blame that one the whiskey.” She smiled and grabbed his shoulder. Resting her head against it, she asked, “Which way to your place?”
He swallowed against his dry throat and tapped his hands on the steering wheel. Man, she felt good pressed against him, her breasts pushing against his arm as she leaned over the center console and was practically in the driver seat with him.
“I’ll show you,” he said.
“Please do,” she said, pressing herself tighter to his arm.
He didn’t know how he was able to concentrate on driving enough to get them back to his place safely, but he managed it. The trip was a blur. The whole time, the only thought that flashed through his mind was like a beacon on a lighthouse: sex. But no. He was going to stay strong. He had no intention of letting their first time together be based on a bet.
They got out of the car, and she followed him to his apartment. He fumbled with his keys for a while before finally getting the apartment door open. They slipped inside, and she pulled him to her and surprised him with a kiss. He groaned and pulled her closer. She backed him up until he bumped against the couch. Sitting on the arm of it, he pulled her down with him. Just a few minutes. He’d stop this in a few minutes. Just a few more kisses.
She stood and held out her hands. He looked up at her, bewildered as blood thundered through his veins. Why’d she stop?
“Your room,” she said, reaching over to kiss him again. He put his hands in her hair and kissed her long and deep. She gave into the kiss, and he pulled her backwards with him so that a moment later, she lay on top of him and he lay with his back on the couch and his legs still dangling over the arm of it. She pulled back for a moment and started to say something. He put his hands on the sides of her face and traced her cheeks with his thumbs. She was so beautiful. And there was something about her—he’d felt it on the day he met her, too, but now, in the quiet and shadowy dark of his apartment, it was so much stronger. He felt this almost irrational pull to her. He barely even knew her. Yet he wanted nothing more in the world than to change that—to know everything about her. Dante would say he was just rebounding hard, but he didn’t think so. He’d rebounded before, but he’d never felt this. Whatever it was.
“What?” she said softly.
“Nothing. I just like looking at you,” he half-lied. Even in the semi-dark, he did really enjoy the curve of her cheeks, the shape of her eyes, her full lips. He vaguely remembered something he’d read once about attractiveness being based on symmetry. Well, then. Her face must have been perfectly symmetrical. He kissed her slightly rounded chin, beneath her lower lip. Her hand went under his shirt, and he grabbed it, remembering that Dante still had to come home. He didn’t want that kind of awkward tonight. Plus, Dante would be sure to pay him back if he caught Owen and Marci going at it on the couch. And with as many women as Dante brought home, Owen didn’t want that kind of payback.
“What?” Marci looked down at his hand, which circled her wrist.
“Come on.” He gently slid from under her and got to his feet. She quickly followed his example. Without letting go of her, he led her to his room. He reached for the light switch, but she grabbed his hand and put it on her hip.
“No lights?” he asked.
“No lights,” she said. Covering his lips with hers, she reached under his shirt for his belt. He let her loosen it, thinking it wouldn’t hurt to let this go on for a little while. She separated their lips long enough to pull her shirt over her head and toss it aside. His eyes had adjusted to the dark enough for him to lead her over to the bed. He pushed her down onto the bed and lay on top of her before filling his hands with her breasts. He squeezed them, eliciting a moan from her, as he grinded his hips against hers. Teasing her nipples through the silky fabric of her bra, he pressed his lips to hers in a hungry kiss.
“Owen. Please,” she whispered. Slipping the straps of her bra down her arms, he kissed her shoulders. “More.” She frantically unhooked the bra and tossed it aside. He put his mouth over the warm flesh of her breasts, kissing his way down to her nipples. While sucking on one of them, he circled the other with his thumb. Then he switched nipples. She was now rocking against his hips, hard and fast. Her breath came in faster and faster gasps. She grabbed the back of the waist of his jeans with her fists.
He stopped.
#
She couldn’t believe how close she was to coming when he stopped. Just stopped cold. Dry humping hadn’t gotten her off in years. But something about the way he touched her, about his kisses, had her losing all control. Shit. She’d faked more orgasms to get guys off her so she could go home and get some sleep than she’d actually had lately, and Owen had nearly made her come in her pants.
And then he stopped.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, still panting from the things Owen had been doing to her body just seconds ago.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t do this. Not like this.” He sat back on his heels, his thighs still straddling hers. “That’s not who I am.”
“Huh?” She stared up at him, puzzled.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to. Under different circumstances. But not based on a bet. Not when you still kind of hate me for what happened last week.”
“I don’t kind of hate you.”
“You’re not too fond of me, are you?”
“I don’t know enough about you to make any kind of judgment.”
“And see? That’s the problem. I want you to. To know me that is. Give me a chance to make it up to you.”
“You can make it up to me right now,” she said with a wicked grin.
“Not like this.”
She slid her body from beneath his and got to her feet. She looked back at him in the bed. Pity. He wasn’t bad looking at all. Nope, not at all. She grabbed her shirt and tugged it on, and he turned on a lamp near the side of his bed.
“Are you leaving now?”
“I don’t see the point in staying.” She stuffed her bra into the back pocket of her jeans and looked around for her jacket. Where was it? Had she left it in the living room?
“We could talk.”
“We’ve done enough talking. I’
m done embarrassing myself in front of you.” She looked at him over her shoulder.
“Embarrassing yourself? How?” A frown of confusion settled over his pretty boy face.
She laughed and stopped searching for her missing jacket long enough to look him in the gorgeous gray eyes. “I’ve never been turned down for sex before. This is new.”
“I’m not really turning you down. Just postponing it. I hope.”
She was pretty sure her shirt, which she’d put back on in the dark, was inside out. But she wasn’t about to take the time to fix that. She would throw her jacket on when she found it, and all would be fine. All with the shirt situation anyway.
“Owen, we’ve had a few too many bad starts. Do you not get that? We should not see each other again. Ever.”
His handsome face fell. She almost felt bad for being responsible for this. But she wasn’t the relationship type. And even if she was, how in the world could they start anything up between them with all the bad first impressions they’d made?
“Are you okay to drive?” He raked his fingers through his hair, lifting his wavy, dark blond hair away from his forehead. “You said you were tipsy earlier.”
“Fine. Thanks.” She’d sobered up between the ride home and getting shut down by a guy for the first time in her life. Weren’t guys always supposed to be ready to go? Weren’t girls the ones to turn down sex if anyone did? Was she losing her touch, or was the problem with him?
“Wait.” Owen jumped to his feet and wrapped his hands around hers. Bringing her hands to his lips, he kissed them. “I didn’t know this would be the last chance I got. Please. Can’t I do or say anything to change your mind? I know this is going to sound crazy, but the moment I saw you after the unfortunate way I ran into you, I knew something was there. I was in this horrible place that morning. Right up until the moment I met you. When I saw you, the clouds lifted. I’ve felt so much lighter ever since. I don’t want that feeling to go away. I don’t want you to go away. I feel like everything happens for a reason. I ran into you for a reason.”
“Other than not watching where you were going?”
A slight laugh escaped him. “Other than that.” He pressed her hands between his. His hands were so warm. Firm. Capable. “This isn’t the last time I’m supposed to see you. It can’t be. Let me at least have your phone number.”
“Jacket,” she said in response.
“Huh?”
She gestured around his room. “I need my jacket. Can’t find it.”
Owen glanced around, bent to pick up her black jacket from beneath a chair. She appreciated the muscles moving under the skin of his back as he did so. He wheeled around with the jacket held to his chest. He had a slender yet muscular build that reminder her of a well-conditioned soccer player’s or a swimmer’s. Nice.
Still holding on to her jacket, he said, “What if I told you that you have to agree to go out with me to get this back?”
“I’d run out to my car in the cold, and if I catch pneumonia, it’d be on your conscience.”
“It doesn’t even have to be a huge deal of a date. We can grab coffee or something.”
“I think we’ve shared enough coffee. Goodbye, Owen.” She reached for her purse.
“Wait, no, you can’t go out there like that.” He thrust the jacket at her. “Here.”
“It really is best this way,” Marci said. “I’m not good with relationships.”
“What about a new friend?”
Marci laughed. “I’ve heard that one before. You’re sweet. Go find yourself a sweet girl. Like that one at the bar tonight. Stop wasting your time thinking about me.” Marci started to say goodnight for the last time when he surprised her with a deep kiss. She dropped the jacket and wrapped her arms around his neck. His kisses were addictive. She knew she should push him away, but the whole time they’d been talking, she couldn’t deny that the hope in the back of her mind was that he’d kiss her again.
Chapter Five
He meant to stop before it went too far. In fact, he hadn’t meant to kiss her again at all. He only knew he had to stop her from leaving, and he hadn’t known how, and before he could have a single, rational thought, his arms were wrapped around her again, and he was crushing her lips under his. No, he hadn’t meant to do this, but now he couldn’t stop. And she wasn’t trying to push him away.
He hadn’t meant to let it go this far, either. One minute, his hands were under the hem of her shirt and he was feeling the smooth, warm flesh of her belly. The next, she was completely naked and trying to get him to join her in the nakedness.
He pulled back from her kisses for a moment and trailed a finger down her cheek and under her chin. He then gave her lower lip a few soft kisses before pulling back and staring into her eyes in the near complete darkness, the only light coming in jagged, pale slits from the street light outside in the parking lot filtering through the blinds over his window. His hands slipped to her waist as he trailed kisses from her neck to her shoulder reverently. Pulling her close again, he massaged his fingers into her buttocks as he kissed her mouth long and deep. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone, and he put all of that into that one searing kiss. When he pulled back, they were both gasping for air.
When she reached for his belt buckle, he didn’t try to stop her. He made small circles on the skin at the base of her neck with his index fingers and watched. His belt fell to the floor. His pants slid down to meet it. That was when she looked up and he saw the hesitation mixed with desire in her eyes.
She knew this wasn’t right, either. Some part of her knew. He saw it in the way her movements were slower now, tinged with doubt, in the way she wouldn’t quite look him in the eye. She didn’t seem as bold and self-assured as she had when they’d first gotten into her car earlier. But she’d never be the one to stop them. He considered going forward, and he let her get her fingers in the waistband of his boxers before he said anything.
“Stop,” he said with a sigh. It was the fact that he needed this to be more than one night that stopped him. That and seeing that at least part of her knew this wasn’t right, either.
“Fine.” She pulled back, but she didn’t look nearly as angry and frustrated with him as she had when he stopped her the first time. “You need to make up your mind. I can’t keep going through this.”
“You want me.” He gave her a teasing grin.
“Never said I didn’t. What I don’t want is to keep you.”
“We’ll see.”
“I’m not giving you my number.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t try to find me online. I’m very hard to search for.”
“Fine.”
Marci grabbed her clothes and got dressed again. This time when she got to the door and said goodnight, he said it back and didn’t stop her from going out of the door. That was okay. He had time. One thing was for sure, though. When it came to Marci, there was no way was he settling for one night.
#
Sunday afternoon, Marci sat cross-legged in her bed with Tyler strewn across it in front of her, his chin propped up by his hand. They were watching an America’s Next Top Model marathon as Tyler recovered from his hangover and Marci recovered from her Rejection.
Ronnie had to work at Schaffer’s, the restaurant where she waitressed, so she wasn’t around to commiserate with them. They were supposed to be going over Tyler’s lines for an upcoming audition, but the script lay abandoned near the foot of her bed. Neither of them were in the mood to do much more than watch—and comment on—ANTM.
Marci had seen all the red flags with Owen and chosen to ignore them until she couldn’t any longer. That’s why she’d been wary of him from the beginning—those unassuming, beguiling ones could get you into some real trouble. Especially when you added ridiculously good looks into the mix. Owen had to be a serial monogamist. With the way he’d been talking last night, there was no way he wasn’t.
Marci was not a big fan of relationships. Her high sch
ool boyfriend had been hot, too, and burned the hell out of her. She foolishly thought she was “in love,” whatever that meant. And he’d claimed he was, too. He’d had the nerve to continue claiming he was “in love” with her even after she walked in on him and her best friend screwing just days before graduation. And this was after she’d already locked herself into going to the same school for undergrad as both of those traitors. Clearly, Marci been done with both of them after that, though. Both exes—ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend—had stayed together and ended up getting married or something. Marci didn’t know all the details and had never tried to get them. It wasn’t like she cared what either of them did with their lives now. Luckily, NYU was a big enough place that she’d been able to pretty much avoid running into either of them during her four years there.
A few months after that crushing blow, Marci’s parents got divorced, and her mother started her Olympic sprint through marriages less than a year after the divorce was finalized. By the time Marci graduated from NYU, her mom was working on her fourth marriage. Seriously. One of them had only lasted three months.
After her parents divorced, Marci’s dad moved to Arizona to live with the secret family he’d started there while still married to Mom. Yeah. Her parents were two very messed up individuals. Dad didn’t have time for Marci and seemed to have completely thrown his old life away after moving to Arizona. All she had left of him was his class ring, which she wore on a gold chain around her neck.
During sophomore year of undergrad, Marci met a boy she’d thought had understood her and her messed up family and everything else. He’d told her everything would be different with him. That one day, they would start a family together that would be filled with love and happiness and all the things she’d never felt she had in her own broken family. She fell for his lies. Worse than hard. He left her for someone else, and it took an embarrassingly long amount of time for her to pull herself together after that. She cringed to think of all the books she’d read, all the schemes she’d enacted, just to try and get that boy to come back to her. How pathetic.
Soft Shock Page 4