“Shawn got the part over me. Talentless, hack Shawn.” Tyler shook his head against Ronnie’s thighs. “It’s never going to happen for me. Time to start being ‘practical’, I guess.” Tyler put huge, savage, angry air quotes around the word “practical.” “Guess my parents were right every time they yelled at me about majoring in theater. It was just a biiiig waste of their money.”
“What was the part, Tyler?”
“Commercial.” Tyler picked at the fabric of his blue corduroys.
“The same commercial that you said was ridiculous and that you didn’t really want but that you might as well audition for because Shawn was offering you a ride to New York?”
“Don’t you see? If I can’t even book a commercial that is beneath me and couldn’t-act-his-way-out-of-a-paper-bag Shawn can, then what’s the point? I’m worse than talentless.”
“Tyler,” Marci said. “You know that’s not true.”
“I went to friggin’ Juliard—for one year—and I can’t even book a commercial!” Tyler had transferred out of Juliard because he hadn’t felt like he fit in there. The instructors there hadn’t shared his vision apparently. At least that was the official story. Ronnie and Marci had their suspicions he’d failed out.
“So you didn’t book that commercial. There’s something ten times better waiting around the corner for you.”
“Moving on. If I can’t be booked and happy, I might as well be fat and happy.” Tyler smacked one of his bony hips. “Let’s order food.”
Marci, who hadn’t eaten since before her class, readily agreed.
“Tyler, you will never gain an ounce, so shut it,” Ronnie said. “As for me, I’ve discovered I can either eat what I want or wear what I want.” Ronnie smacked her ample thigh just to the side of where Tyler’s head rested. “Guess which one I’ve chosen?”
“Oh please. You look beautiful,” Marci said.
“Not saying I don’t,” Ronnie said. “Just saying there are repercussions to eating fatty fat fat fat. Not that I have plans to give it up. Just saying.”
“Whatever, gorgeous bitches. What are we going to eat?” Tyler sat up and moved over to settle into the space on the couch he made between them.
“You pick since you’re the guest of honor at this pity party,” Ronnie said.
Tyler rolled his eyes. “That was awful, just so you know.”
Ronnie laughed. “Thanks.”
“Thai,” Tyler said.
“Skinny over here can’t even pig out right.”
“What’s wrong with Thai?”
“Too healthy.”
They bantered back and forth about Thai food while Marci went to the kitchen to search the drawer where they kept takeout menus. She grinned as she dug through the menus to look for Thai. The sound of their sibling-like bickering was music to her ears.
#
Marci came home from the library Friday afternoon in a good mood. She’d accomplished a lot at the library and was pretty proud of herself. She swung the door to her apartment open, and her mouth dropped open along with it. Owen sat on her couch, chatting amicably with Ronnie. He was majorly invading her space. What was he doing there? Had he come over to look for his brother?
When Owen looked up and saw her, his face lit up with that perfect grin that melted every part of her. “Hi,” he said. “I was wondering when you were getting back.”
“Were you just going to sit here until I did?” Marci asked.
“Yep. Or until Ronnie kicked me out.”
Ronnie, who was obviously enjoying this, let her eyes flit back and forth between Owen and Marci, watching every move they made. She was most likely trying to pick up on some clues, some subtle hints of the things Marci had left out.
“Did you come over to talk about your paper?” Marci asked pointedly.
Ronnie wasn’t fazed by this and almost seemed to know it was for her benefit. She perched on the edge of the couch cushion, leaning forward like she was a kid at Christmas, and this interplay between Marci and Owen was her gift.
“Sure,” Owen said. He stood and stretched and she realized he didn’t have a crutch. Taking in her reaction, he said, “I’m all healed up.”
“Good,” Marci said tightly. “Wanna come to my room? We can discuss that paper and get you out of here. I’m sure you have better things to do on a Friday night than hang out at your writing tutor’s apartment.” She put extra emphasis on the words “writing tutor.” Wait, was Ronnie holding back laughter? Was her face turning red with the effort of holding it back? That was wrong. Way wrong.
“Okay,” Owen said. He grabbed his backpack from the floor and slung it over one shoulder.
She led the way to her room.
“I’ve never been in here before.” Owen looked around her lavender, silver, and sky blue-themed room. “Nice.”
“What are you doing here?” she hissed. “No warning. I just come in here and find you chatting away with my roommate—”
“I have something for you.” He reached into his pack and grabbed a small package from it. Dropping his backpack onto the floor near her desk, he walked over to her with the package and handed it to her.
“Java Time’s Ethiopian dark roast,” she murmured, looking down at the brightly colored package of coffee in her hands.
“You mentioned it was your favorite once.” Owen gave her his best unassuming Opie grin, and she knew she was treading dangerous waters.
“I can’t. Here. Take it back.” She thrust the coffee at him. He walked over, set the coffee on her desk, and came back to her.
She started to tell him to leave, but he cut her off with a kiss. For a moment, she responded. It was second nature because his mouth never failed to empty her brain of rational thought and flood every inch of her with the desire to have him naked in ten seconds flat. There was a little problem with getting him naked, though. And that problem brought her back to her senses.
Twisting away from him, breathless, she said, “No. No more of your teasing.”
Owen pushed a hand through his messy, wavy, dark blond hair. “I have a proposition for you,” he said. “Hear me out.”
“What is it?”
“I’ll give you a little of what you want if you give me a little of what I want.”
“Go on. I’m listening.”
“Here it is. A compromise.” Owen ran a hand over his perfect face, let it rest at the bottom of his angular jaw. He stared at her for a long moment before tucking both hands behind his back. “I’ll give you just sex if you promise I’m the only person you’ll have sex with while we’re doing it. When you’re ready to move on…to…others…let me know, and that’s it.”
“Are you sure you can handle that?”
Owen laughed. “Just give me a yes or no. No sex with anyone who’s not me. You can date. Do whatever you want that’s not sex—well, that’s not more than kissing.”
“I don’t date.”
“That’s up to you.”
“And how do you know I won’t have sex with you once and be done?”
“I don’t.” Owen shrugged. “I guess I’m holding out hope that I’m not wrong about you even though you’re so sure I am.”
“Wrong about me?”
“About the way you feel about me.”
“Hm,” was all Marci said.
He took her hands in his, brushed his lips over the tips of her fingers. “So what about it? What do you think?”
She was too distracted by his lips on her skin to do much thinking. This was what she wanted, and he was making it easy enough to back out whenever she felt like it. “No emotional crap?”
“Not a bit,” he murmured into her palm.
She took her hand back. If he was trying to sway her decision, it was working and it wasn’t fair. “And I’m free to walk away whenever I want? No catch?”
“Completely catch-free.” Owen looked at her earnestly with those gray eyes, making it all the harder to imagine saying no. This boy was dangerous. He could s
ell snow to an Eskimo with that face.
“I’m not making any promises. This might be the only time.” She shook her head. “This is probably the only time.”
He laughed. “Then I’d better make it a good one.”
“I just don’t see the point in sex with the same person more than once. You’ve seen what there is to offer. Why go back for seconds?”
“Maybe you haven’t been having very good sex.”
“What? I’ll have you know that I have had plenty of sex. Ten times what you’ve had.”
He chuckled, and she grew infuriated that her indignation was amusing him. “Just because you’ve had more partners doesn’t mean you’ve had more sex.” He locked his gaze on hers. “Or better sex.”
“You don’t even know what you’re in for.”
He didn’t lose his cool or miss a beat. “You’ve had a preview, and you can say whatever you want, but I’m thinking you were impressed. Nobody fakes that well.”
“You don’t know me. Could have been an act.”
“If it was, let me get your academy award ready, Ms. King.”
“So you can make me come. You think you’re the only one?”
“I think I’m the longest relationship you’ve ever had.”
She wasn’t about to correct him as that would mean dipping into a past she didn’t want to share.
Grinning, he took a step closer. “We might as well take it to the next level.”
“Let me drop my panties for you right now,” she said dryly.
He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he moved in close and put his tongue behind her earlobe. He gave the sensitive skin there a slow, searing kiss before capturing the bottom of her earlobe in his teeth and tugging gently at it.
Despite her efforts not to, she let a sigh of pleasure escape. He pulled back a little and ran his thumb over the skin just below her lower lip. All she could think of was what they hadn’t gotten to finish their first two times together.
“You don’t tell anybody about this,” Marci whispered against his lips. “You sneak out when nobody’s around to catch you.”
Owen played with the hem of her shirt. “Afraid I’m going to ruin your reputation?”
“Something like that.”
He grabbed the hem of her shirt and whipped it up and over her head. While she unfastened her bra, he unbuttoned and unzipped her pants and pushed them down her legs so she could step out of them. Pressing her body to his hard, lean one, she didn’t resist as he backed her over to her bed. He nudged her just a little, and she fell back onto the bed. He was on top of her in the next second, and she locked her legs around his waist and pulled him in for a long, deep kiss. While they kissed, he tugged at her panties, and she wiggled out of them.
He pulled back, and she grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head. His messy hair was even wilder now. Sexier.
“Condom?” he asked.
“Didn’t plan ahead, Mr. Monogamy?” Marci teased.
His ears reddened. “Truthfully? I didn’t expect this to work. And I was pretty sure you’d have some on the off chance it did, Ms. Opposite of Monogamy.”
She laughed. “Touché.” Rolling over halfway, she reached into the drawer on her nightstand. Owen kissed her shoulder while she was half turned away and reaching into the drawer, so she took her time drawing the square packet out of there. Finally, she turned back to him, kissing him and dragging one hand through his hair while the other held on to the condom. He unfastened and kicked off his pants before closing his hands over hers. While holding her hands, he planted slow, sweet kisses across her collarbone.
This was nice, and even though a little warning bell was going off at the back of her mind, she chose to ignore it. Just for now. Owen was slow and sensual. Like a lover instead of a quick screw who saw her only as a quick screw. Usually, sex was quick, sometimes rough, and always a little impersonal for her. Always selfish on both sides. And that’d been fine for her. Both parties in for one thing and getting it as quickly and efficiently as possible. No big deal. So she had to do a little of the work herself—some assembly required—so what? She knew where her clitoris was.
She didn’t know exactly when Owen had taken the condom from her because she’d been lost in the sheer bliss of his touches and kisses. But when he pulled away and sat back on his heels to put on the condom, she noticed. She ran her eyes over his cut arms, his pecks, and his tight abs while he rolled the condom from tip to base. Man, was he nice to look at. That was one benefit of this arrangement. So she was upgrading from one-night stands to a fuck buddy. What was wrong with that when the fuck buddy could have been a friggin’ model if he wanted to? He looked as good as some of the wannabe actors that she’d seen at Tyler’s casting calls when she went with him. Heck, he looked better than a lot of them, actually.
Deep down, she knew what was wrong with it. He was so genuinely good. Sweet. She didn’t want to be the one to ruin that. Let someone else be the jackass who broke him the way she’d been broken. Let someone else prove to him that romantic love was a sadistic joke. No way did she want it to be her who did that.
He knows the deal, and he still wants this. Hell, he’s the one who proposed this, she told herself, angry that she was deliberating this much over what had been her formerly simple sex life. See? It was starting already.
Maybe that’s not what you’re really afraid of. Maybe you’re afraid he’s right when he says he’s not wrong about you.
In an attempt to shut up her thoughts and get some for the first time in an aching, frustratingly long six weeks, she said, “Get back here.”
Owen settled over her and pushed her thighs open wider with his. Resting his forearms on either side of her head, he put most of his weight on them and his elbows. His penis rubbed against the sensitive skin between her legs, and she arched her hips in anticipation and frustration.
She let out a rich moan and closed her eyes as he filled her for the first time with a long, slow stroke.
“Just fuck me.” She tilted her hips toward his, needing to be closer.
But he didn’t listen. “This is why I wanted to be on top.” That tone thrilled her and surprised her coming from him. That tone said he was in control, and he was going to give it to her the way he wanted to give it to her. He lowered his head and whispered, his lips against her ear, “I’ve waited too long for this to rush it.”
He lips closed over hers in a deep kiss while he kept up his slow, steady rhythm inside of her. When he pulled back, she looked up at him to see him staring down at her with eyes like liquid silver. Or, no, quicksilver. She had to remember the dangers of falling in too deep.
His lips were at her ear again. “What do you like?”
She was caught off-guard by the question. No one had ever asked or otherwise bothered to figure it out. Not either of her serious boyfriends—albeit they’d barely known what sex was at the time, especially with the high school one. Certainly none of the string of one-night-stands between them and Owen had asked. She usually took care of that part herself.
When she didn’t answer, he said, “This?” He gently pinched and tugged at her nipples. She gasped and once again tried to increase their speed. However, his hips remained steady over hers, creating a slow burn that was building a delicious anticipation in her. “How about this?” He slid his hand between her legs, just above where he was inside her and manipulated the sensitive skin there in ways that made her beg him not to stop. But he did. Next, he grabbed her hips and changed their position several times until she uttered a rich, low moan.
“Right there?” he asked, his voice husky, just above a whisper.
She couldn’t answer with words. If she opened her mouth, she would scream out for him, and their secret would be out almost before it began. So she bit her lower lip and dug her fingernails into the flesh of his waist.
Owen pulled her close, capturing her lips once again. She moaned into his mouth between kisses as waves of pleasure rock
ed her body. She forgot herself, lost her mind, with him inside of her. It was scary how much she liked losing all control and giving herself over to him completely.
Afterwards, Owen got up and stretched before heading off to the en suite bathroom that was attached to Marci’s room. When he came back, Marci stared at him boldly. She didn’t try to hide the fact that she liked what she saw—from top to bottom.
“What?” he asked. He slipped back into bed, and she turned onto her side and propped her head up on her arm, which was bent at the elbow. She traced one blood red nail over the skin just under his collarbone, down between his pecks, and back up again. He shivered a little, and she looked down to see goose bumps rising in all the places she’d just touched him.
“Just thinking,” she said although the extent of the thoughts running through her mind was, that was beyond incredible. The things he’d done to her body—and with no help from toys or anything but his own two hands, his hips, and that huge thing between those hips—had been surprising in the best possible way.
“About what?” he asked.
“Have you seen your brother lately?” she asked casually, only mildly interested in the answer. Asking about Jeremy was a good way to change the subject. She certainly wasn’t going to stroke Owen’s ego by telling him he’d blown her mind.
He made a strange little face that was somewhere between a frown and an expression of confusion. Then he blew out a breath and said, “No, not recently. Why?”
“He was over here the other day, talking to Ronnie. I didn’t hear much of their conversation.” And it hadn’t been for lack of trying. “But I think they were talking about a guy named Wes.”
Owen closed his eyes for a moment, and his nostrils flared. He gave a little shake of his head, and his hand curled into a fist. When he opened his eyes again, his expression had cleared and he gave her a brief smile before saying, “Oh. Okay.”
“Is everything okay?” Marci asked.
“You don’t want to be bored with details of my family life.” Owen made a circle around her navel with his index finger, and her stomach flipped behind it.
“What do I want?” Marci asked.
“This.” Owen rolled on top of her and pressed his lips to hers in a hard kiss while burying his hands in her hair.
Soft Shock Page 13