Owen grabbed a cookie sheet from a cabinet below the counter in a maneuver he made look easy even though he squatted down with his weight on one leg. This was a man in good shape. She bet he had a lot of stamina to go with that strength. She’d seen a preview the night of the bet. Now she’d like to put both stamina and strength to the real test. He set the cookie sheet on the counter before her, and she finally realized he hadn’t said anything yet. Her mind had been too preoccupied with dirty thoughts to realize it until the sound of the cookie sheet hitting the counter brought her out of her head.
“Okay, I guess,” he said with a small frown and a little shrug of his shoulders. “He’s okay physically. They discharged him not long after you guys left.”
Marci had the idea that more was going on there, but she also had the feeling that Owen wanted her to back off. She respected that. She certainly wouldn’t have wanted to talk about G.K. and her latest marriage destined for failure. Sometimes, you just wanted your family crazy to stay in the family.
After she finished with the bread and stuck it in the oven, they waited around for it to bake in mostly awkward silence until Owen’s phone vibrated against the counter. He grabbed it, frowned down at it, hit the screen a few times, and tossed it back on the counter.
“Who was that?” Marci ventured, mostly out of the desire to say something to break the silence. Only after the words were out of her mouth did she realize how nosy they sounded.
“Someone from my past who doesn’t realize they’re part of the past yet,” Owen said enigmatically. Okay. Two subjects back-to-back Owen obviously didn’t want to talk about.
Just then, the timer went off, letting them know the garlic bread was ready.
Thank goodness, Marci nearly said it out loud but caught herself at the last second. She finally had something to do besides stand around and let apparently sore subjects hang in the air. She hurried over to get the bread from the oven. Wordlessly, they filled their plates with lasagna, salad, and garlic bread before going into the living room and taking seats at opposite ends of the sofa. Owen flipped on the television, and a trash daytime talk show happened to be on. Other than some banal small talk about the show, they ate in silence.
After their early dinner or late lunch—whatever it was—they seemed to come to a wordless agreement to go to Owen’s room. Marci looked out of the window behind his bed through the half-open slats of the blinds.
“Great view of the parking lot,” she said.
He chuckled softly. “Isn’t it?”
The next thing she knew, his arms were around her waist. She melted into them without really thinking about it. Her body responded to his almost of its own accord. It was silly to deny she wanted him. Wanting him had never been the problem. How long she wanted to keep him always had.
“I have this little problem, Marci.”
“Doesn’t feel so little to me,” she said, rubbing not so subtly against the hard ridge that pressed into her back. She hadn’t seen or held it when they had their little preview a few weeks ago, but she’d gotten enough of it from their way-too-old-for-this- dry-humping to know there was something worth pursuing down there.
His breath hitched, and he backed up just a little but kept his arms around her waist. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve tried everything. I’ve even gone on dates. Several. Nothing works. Can’t get you out of my system.”
She turned in his arms. He was resting most of his weight on his non-injured foot, and he’d abandoned the crutch. “Does that hurt very much?” She pointed down to his foot, making sure her hand brushed his thigh in the process.
“Not very much,” Owen said. “It’s just about healed.”
“What can you do with it like that?”
“It’s not my ankle that’s holding me back.” Owen brushed a curl of hair from her cheek and kissed it. Her skin tingled where his lips had touched it.
“Owen, why do you have to be the one guy who wants more than just sex?” She shook her head. “You’re so hot. It’s not fair.”
“So are you. And you’re right. It’s not fair.” He fingered her curls before bringing his fingers down to tease the nape of her neck. “Why do you have to be the one girl who wants just sex?”
“I’m sure I’m not the only one.” She was so distracted by the feel of his fingers on her neck that she barely knew what she was saying.
“And I’m sure I’m not the only guy, either.” He brought his lips close to her neck when he said the words. So close that she could feel the heat of his breath on her skin.
“This feels too good.” Her eyes closed, she reached down and hooked her hands into the front of his jeans.
“I can tell I’m not alone in this. You feel something, too.”
“Like it isn’t blatantly obvious that I’m hot for you.”
“I think it’s more than that. I think that you’re holding back. And what I want to know is why.”
“I don’t do relationships.” She’d been burned twice. And if she needed further proof that romantic relationships were a sham, Glenda King was it.
“Why not? Did someone hurt you?”
She opened her eyes and wished she hadn’t. He looked so earnest and honest and true. Like he wanted nothing more in the world than to fix whatever he thought her problem was. In that moment, he was beautiful, safe, solid. If she didn’t pull back from those mesmerizing gray eyes, she’d fall right in.
So she did the only thing she could think of to break the spell. She pressed her lips to his in a smothering kiss. He kissed her back just as eagerly. They only parted lips long enough to slip his shirt over his head, four eager hands fumbling at the task. He limped over to the bed and sat. She straddled his thighs and went back to kissing him. He lay back on the bed, bringing her with him. When she reached down for the button of his jeans, he redirected her hands to his shoulders before unbuttoning and unzipping hers instead. She pushed the jeans down and kicked them off while still kissing him like the world would end if she stopped.
Owen’s hands moved under her shirt and up her back. He unfastened her bra and pushed it up over her breasts. She moaned a grateful moan as his kisses moved down to her throat and his hands massaged her breasts under her shirt. One hand dipped down and found its way inside her panties while the fingers of the other hand circled and pinched first one nipple and then the other. The hand in her panties was circling and pinching something as well.
“I missed you.” She mouthed the words, taking care that there was no way he could possibly hear them.
Distracted by his movements, she gave up on the kissing. Throwing her head back, she grabbed his shoulders and pumped her hips against his. They’d moved from middle school to high school style hook ups. There was something hot about it, though. The under the clothes touching. Like they had to be ready to get fully dressed at any moment because someone might catch them while they were feeling each other up. Well, while he felt her up.
Marci came with an, “Oh,” of surprise quicker than either of them had expected. She grabbed his shoulders and squeezed his thighs with hers as the orgasm rocked her body. When it was over, she rested her damp forehead against his and said, “It’s been a while,” by way of apology.
“Yeah?”
“Since that…night,” she admitted reluctantly, not really sure why she was telling him this. Part of her wanted him to know he’d been the last person she’d been with. The stupid part that kept thinking about him when he wasn’t around. The part that was determined to get her into trouble. “The night of the bet.”
He gave her a small smile. It wasn’t cocky or otherwise irritating. It was…surprisingly nice and caught her off-guard like everything else about him had so far.
“Your turn.” Marci’s hands migrated to the top of his jeans again, and he grabbed them, shaking his head.
“Not tonight,” Owen said.
“Is this part of some deal you’ve made with yourself?” Marci asked, only half-joking. “It doesn’t co
unt against your morals as long as you don’t get off?”
“It’s not about morals,” Owen said quietly.
“What’s it about?”
He took her face in his hands and kissed her bottom lip softly before kissing her full on the lips long, sweet, and slow. Pulling back, he searched her eyes while caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. “So much more.”
“Like?”
“Like the swooping feeling I get in my stomach when I’m on my way to the writing center. Or sitting with you in the emergency room while you try to distract me from thoughts of my brother’s idiocy. Or you making garlic bread and eating dinner with me. Or something as simple and incredible as the way your lips feel under mine. The way your skin feels under my fingers. It all feels so incredibly right.” He ran his fingers over the skin of her arms, and she shivered involuntarily. “How can you not feel any of this?”
She forced herself not to think, not to answer. Not to think, not to answer.
“I need to have you more than once,” he said. “Once just…wouldn’t be enough.”
“What if I said I never want to see you again after I leave?”
Owen called her bluff without missing a beat. Slipping his index finger under the edge of her panties and running it back and forth of the sensitive skin of her waxed bikini area, he said, “We’ll see.”
She stood because she was afraid of what she’d do if she stayed in that bed. She needed to get some. Bad. That was all this was. Once she had some sex—some really good, hot, nasty sex—everything would be fine. “I should get going. I have a lot of work to do.”
He nodded and let his eyes sweep lazily up and down her body but made no attempt to move from his spot on the bed. “So you said earlier.”
“I’ll see you at the writing center.” Marci buttoned and zipped her jeans. What she really wanted to say was, Put your penis in me. Now.
He nodded again. She grabbed her jacket and pulled it on.
Best to remove herself from temptation. All she could think about as she left was what a pro he was at manipulating her body with his hands. She could only imagine what the full package was like. The problem was, she didn’t want to only imagine.
Chapter Sixteen
Owen sat across from his date Thursday night. The woman’s name was Molly, and she seemed so normal that it almost felt like a trap. Still, at the back of his mind, he thought about another “M”. Marci’s TA session was tonight. He thought about her more often than not these days.
Molly’s dark brown hair was pulled up and away from her long, slender neck. Her skin was so pale that it was nearly translucent. Like Owen, she had gray eyes. She wore a peach colored dress that was pretty low-cut. He couldn’t stop his eyes from going to her cleavage. He wasn’t trying to be a perv. It just happened to literally and very truly be in his face.
“So you have any brothers? Sisters?” Molly asked after they ordered dessert.
“Yeah.” Owen fought to keep a grimace off his face. “One brother.” He didn’t want to talk about Jeremy right now. Not when things were going so well. “You?”
“Two sisters,” Molly said dismissively. She reached down and grabbed her black handbag from the floor. Reaching inside it, she produced a clipboard and a pen.
Owen had no idea what that could be for.
Until she informed him. “I like you, Owen, and I see no point in wasting time. You were very up front in what you wanted in your online profile, and I appreciate that. You’re looking for something long term. A guy who wants monogamy. That is definitely what I’m looking for. Now let me be up front with you. Why waste time? Are you a time waster, Owen?”
“I…No, well, I don’t know.” Owen scratched the back of his neck. “I’m not sure.” He had no idea where this was going. “Is there going to be a test?” He only half laughed because he was only half joking.
“I have some questions for you.” She held up the clipboard briefly, and he saw something that looked like a checklist. Then she rested the clipboard back on her lap. “I’m not a time waster, Owen. I need to know where this relationship is going.”
“This is only the first date.” Owen was no commitment-phobe, but this woman was too intense.
She read to him from the checklist. “Just some basic stuff. I need to know your family’s mental health history, your BMI, your undergraduate school, your five year plan, your GPA, if you don’t have an I.Q. score handy we can work on that later, and…” She continued to read off the list. When she finally looked up, she asked, “How do you feel about genetic testing to find out the likelihood of our passing on hereditary disorders to our offspring?”
“Uh…” Had she just said “our”? Our offspring? On the first date? Marci wouldn’t believe this woman existed. Marci. This woman was more than the polar opposite of Marci. Whatever the polar opposite times infinity was, that was what this woman was in relation to Marci. Man, why did she have to pop up in his every thought?
“Because I think that sort of thing is extremely important,” Molly said. “Why not prevent that sort of heartache if you can?”
“Molly, I think this is something we can talk about later.” But Owen didn’t plan on there being a “later” so that was a bit of a white lie.
She narrowed his eyes at him, and he wasn’t sure if she was considering his words or something else until she spoke again. “Are your vaccinations up to date? And when was the last time you had an HIV test?”
Of course, the server chose that moment to return with Molly’s chocolate mousse and Owen’s Irish coffee. The server didn’t say anything, but Owen noticed his eyebrows go up slightly.
Owen grabbed the coffee and took a long gulp.
Molly, who didn’t seem to care too much for thoughtful pauses, took that opportunity to fill the conversation gap. She said, “I see relationships like business partnerships. Wouldn’t you want to vet someone you’re going into business with? And why shouldn’t the same hold true for marriage?”
Owen choked on his coffee.
Molly continued. “Marriage is the ultimate merger.”
Owen looked around wildly for the server who’d sneaked off while Molly was jabbering away. He needed the check. Now. Before his head exploded.
#
When Marci got home from her T.A. session Thursday night, she heard shouting coming from the other side of her apartment door. She opened the door just a crack so she could hear the voices coming from inside better.
“Ronnie, please? I really need your help.” That was Jeremy’s voice.
“You shouldn’t have gotten involved with Wes in the first place. You think he knows everything. He got you into this mess. And now you want me to get you out of it, but you didn’t want to hear a word I had to say when I told you to leave him and his scams alone.”
“He said it was a sure thing.”
“Of course he did. He was trying to lure you in. And it worked. ‘Cause now, you’re worse than broke.”
“You’re supposed to be my friend.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“You know what.”
“I can’t believe you’d expect me to do that. How do I know you won’t screw up all over again? I can’t keep sticking my neck out for you chop off over and over again.”
“I’m not—okay. What if you just let me hold a couple of dollars?”
Ronnie was quiet for a moment. And then, “How many is a couple?”
There was a pause. “Is the door open?”
Shit, Marci mouthed.
“Yeah,” Ronnie said. In a louder voice, she added, “Must be one of my nosy roommates.”
Guiltily, Marci pushed open the door. “Hi.” She walked into the room and dropped her bag onto the armchair near the sofa.
“Hey, Marci,” Ronnie said, sounding more distracted than she did pissed at being interrupted. Grabbing Jeremy’s arm in a way that looked painful, she said, “We’re not done. Out there.” She nodded to the balcony.
Jeremy muttered
a greeting to Marci as Ronnie dragged him outside. Marci watched with interest as they gestured wildly back and forth at each other on the balcony. She couldn’t hear their words with the glass doors closed, but she could hear muffled shouting even through the glass. She wondered what was up with that boy. Owen hadn’t wanted to talk about him Monday night, and she very seriously doubted Ronnie would want to come off any of Jeremy’s secrets. She never did. Marci wondered if this had anything to do with why Ronnie had been acting so strangely lately. Ronnie was still being pretty closed-lipped about whatever was going on.
Marci sat down on the couch and pretended to watch television. They were out there for a while. When they came back in, they were both quiet. Jeremy hung his head, stuffed his hands in his pockets—Marci noticed then that he’d never had his jacket off, not even before he and Ronnie headed outside—and muttered a goodbye as he made a beeline for the door. Still hugging herself for warmth even though she was back inside now, Ronnie sank onto the couch next to Marci.
“Freezing out there.” Ronnie rubbed the arms of her sweater. “They say we’re in for the coldest winter in years and an early one, and I believe it after coming back in from that arctic wind.”
“Shouldn’t you be used to it, Jersey?”
“Hey. Jersey ain’t exactly Canada.” Ronnie grabbed the afghan from the back of the couch and pulled it around her shoulders. “What are we watching?”
“Cake Boss.”
“Good.” Ronnie leaned back and closed her eyes. “Make me a red velvet cake, would ya, Marce?”
They sat there like that, watching Cake Boss and chatting about how much each wanted the other to make her a cake until Tyler whirled in with his often-not-far-behind drama cyclone.
“My life is over!” he howled.
Chapter Seventeen
Tyler crossed the room and threw himself across Marci and Ronnie’s laps.
“What happened, hon?” Ronnie asked gently.
Soft Shock Page 12