by Brianna Cash
That kiss comes back to me. The feel of his mouth on mine, his hands on my hips, my back, in my hair for the briefest of moments, my hands on his bare chest, dragging along the fabric of his pants before he gave in and kissed me with tongue, the sound in the back of his throat when he finally slid his knee between mine...
Yes, I can definitely play nice with Owen.
My hand shakes as I stand and pick up my empty glass to return to the bar.
Why the hell does this guy rattle me so much?
It’s just Owen. Robot Owen. Too polite, over-tipping, only-three-expressions Owen.
I’ve seen more expressions on him today than I have in the five years he’s worked in my building.
Forget that! He’s just Owen!
Sliding onto a bar stool next to him, I sigh, relieved to be out of the blinding sun for a few minutes. And possibly trying to release the tension in my shoulders. The move also makes it seem like I’m inconvenienced to be here. He eyes me cautiously, probably wondering what jab I’m going to fling at him next. But jabs won’t work when I’m trying to make temporary friends so we can play nice this weekend. So, I go for funny.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
He doesn’t laugh or crack a smile. He doesn’t react at all.
Guess that line isn’t going to work at an all-inclusive resort that includes all the alcohol you can consume. Attempting to keep a shred of my dignity, I try again. “You know, they say people sleeping in the same room shouldn’t go to bed angry.”
His brow drops as he side-eyes me. “It’s people sleeping in the same bed, which we’re not. And is this you trying to offer me some kind of truce?”
“Something like that.”
“You’re not very good at it.” He looks away, tipping the bartender as another beer gets placed in front of him.
“I know. I’m usually not in these kinds of situations.”
“I bet not. You’re usually in situations that are more sexual than platonic.”
“Owen, I’m trying.” My hatred for him cranks back up to where it was when he first shot that disgusted expression toward me in the bar that night. This isn’t going to work if he keeps making snide comments. “It would be nice if you did, too.”
He sighs with slumped shoulders, which is more emotion than I’ve ever seen him express. There’s another one to add to the list of new-expressions-I’m-seeing-on-Owen-that-I-didn’t-know-he-had.
He stares into the distance, avoiding my eyes for the longest time until he finally turns to face me. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed or insinuated anything.”
“I didn’t do anything with those guys at the club.”
His brow lifts and he cocks his head slightly to the left. “What about the guy you left with?”
“That’s different. Jamison’s…” I trail off, trying to find the right words.
“The guy you have sex with.”
My eyes meet his again. “Yeah.”
I don’t like where this conversation is going. I wanted to have sex with my closet kisser, or at the very least kiss him again. Now that my closet kisser is Owen, I’m not sure what I want to do with him, but I’m open to trying something physical to make sure he really is the best kisser I’ve ever played tongue tango with. Instead, we’re suddenly talking about the guy back home I rely on to give me my non-self-induced orgasms.
“Can I ask a question?”
My gaze slides to the side to meet his. “You already have.”
He rolls those beautiful, addictive, light blue eyes that always suck me in. No wonder they looked familiar in that closet. “Can I ask a question you might not want to answer?”
The alcohol must be getting to me. All I want to do is giggle at his reworded question. Trying not to smile, I give him the same reworded answer. “You already have. But yeah, go ahead.”
“How does that work? You’re not in a relationship, but he’s obviously a regular for you. Do you each sleep with other people?”
“We’re both free to sleep with whomever we want. He does.”
“Do you?”
His gaze is locked on my face. Clive said Owen had a long-term girlfriend. Alena said he’s recently single. He’s also Rob’s younger brother. Rob’s a couple years older than Alena, who’s the same age as me. But Owen seems at least a year or two younger than I am. Maybe he’s never been in one of those casual sex relationships that lasts for a while.
“Not that often,” I finally answer, praying my instincts are right and he’s only perplexed as to how these types of relationships work, instead of getting new information to judge me.
“Do you ever feel like you’re leading him on?”
“More often than I’d like.”
“And you were planning on sleeping with me while you were down here.”
It’s a statement, not a question. Now he’s trying to figure out how easy I am as well as how non-committed relationships work.
The bartender hasn’t come back for my order. I look away, grabbing the beer Owen hasn’t touched and taking a few swallows. “I didn’t even know you were coming.”
“But you wanted to, when you found out.”
Again, not a question. It seems like he’s going to switch back into condescending Owen any second now. I want him to get it over with, so I know where I stand. So I know if I need to make Roxy get her key back, because there’s not a chance in hell I’m going to let him sleep in my room if he’s going to treat me like I’m beneath him for the entire time he’s here.
“Just say whatever you’re trying to get at, Owen.”
“Why would you have sex with me when you don’t branch out ‘that often’ on this other guy?”
Rolling my eyes, I give him the answer he wants, the honest one that will put that smirk back on his face. I don’t beat around the bush; I get it out there and let the chips fall where they may. “Because that was one of the best kisses of my life, Owen. Our chemistry was off the charts, but probably only because we didn’t know who the other person was. We probably don’t have any now, because you think I’m a whore, and I think you’re an uptight ass-wipe.”
“You really think that?”
“That you’re an uptight ass-wipe? Yeah.”
He tips his head and arches one brow.
I know what he’s trying to get at, I just like calling him an ass-wipe to his face. It feels good after what he said to me. But I also answer his question. Do I really think we won’t have any chemistry, now that I know who he is, and he knows who I am? “I think it’s a good possibility.”
He leans a little closer, dropping his voice and letting his breath ghost along my sensitive skin. He tosses his suggestion out there like it’s no big deal. “Let’s test your theory.”
“What? Like, right here?”
I practically stutter I’m so taken aback at his quick turnabout. He told me a couple hours ago that kissing me was the last thing he wanted to do. And he just grilled me about how many guys I have sex with because he thinks I’m easy. But he’s offering to kiss me again to find out if I’m correct about not having any chemistry, now that we know who the other one is?
I can’t keep track of his train of thought.
Worse yet, I really want to take him up on his offer.
But I don’t want to do it here, because I don’t believe a word of the crap I just spouted. We’ll still have chemistry. And while I don’t want him to think I’m a whore, I kind of want to see where things will go if we aren’t on a time constraint and one of my best friends isn’t pounding on the door.
He smiles and I almost smile back at him. It’s catching. I missed his smile at work, but this smile? The one he’s giving me now? That’s not an at-work-professional smile. That’s an I’m-calling-your-bluff smile. That’s an I-don’t-think-your-theory-is-going-to-pan-out smile. That’s an I-wanted-to-fuck-you-too smile.
“Later would probably be better. After your friend and I move our things. Maybe after dinner, too. Just in
case you’re wrong.”
I swallow. Hard. “I might be wrong. It’s happened before. A time or two.”
“Just once or twice?” He leans toward me again, closer this time, his eyes still sparkling with that teasing grin. His fingers brush across the back of my hand and my girly parts start tingling. At just a brush of his goddamned fingers! He tested my theory and proved it dead-wrong, with no lips or tongues involved.
But I’ll play the game. Because it’s fun, and this is Owen, the guy I see every day at work. And while I want to take this further, I’m also scared of how this is going to change us.
I draw in a ragged breath, praying my voice is even. “This might prove to be the third time.”
Waiting until later, when we no longer have any obligations to the group and can rest assured that we’ll be left alone, seems like the best idea anyone has ever had. He’s taunting me right now, because he also knows I’m wrong. We both know it. And we both know we’re going to try not only that kiss later in our room, but also sex. It’s sort of been verbally agreed upon.
I should leave now. I should find Roxy, or Alena, or even Olivia or Bailey and see what they’re doing, but I still can’t seem to pull myself away from the intensity of his eyes. And he, apparently, has more questions about this casual sex thing.
“What happens when we go back to work on Monday, Sadie?”
“What happens here, stays here.”
“We forget anything happened?”
What exactly does he want from me, from this attraction we seem to have for each other? “Would you prefer something else?”
After a slight pause, he shakes his head. “No, that’s probably best. You’ve got…Jamison waiting for you.”
“Do you have someone waiting for you?”
“Not exactly.”
He flashes an entirely different smile. A secretive one. One that says he means something else, but I’m not ever going to be privileged enough to find out what. That’s ok. I intend on keeping all my secrets as well. Jamison might be waiting on me, but he’s not the someone I’m concerned about. Not anymore.
“Then we’ll keep this weekend to ourselves. We won’t judge each other for anything that happens.” I let that sink in for a moment, to make sure he understands my meaning. “And we won’t mention it at inappropriate times.”
He nods. “Good plan.”
“One more thing,” I say, stopping him from leaning back in his chair. “You need to stop being so condescending to me at work.”
He frowns. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to treat you that way. I never thought of you as easy before, but watching you that night at the club...” He shakes his head, letting his gaze slide back down to his drink. “I shouldn’t have assumed anything.”
“You’re right, Owen, you shouldn’t have. Then, or now.”
He lets out a breath, his playful demeanor gone as fast as it had come. I’m glad I got to see that playfulness, though. It’s a surprising side of Owen I never would’ve guessed he had. “We’ll go back to normal at work. Like the club never happened.”
That’s not going to work, either. “If this is going where I think it’s going, we can be friendly. More than just polite to each other, ya know?”
“I thought you didn’t think we’d have any chemistry now.”
“We both know that’s a line of bull.”
He grins before letting out a quiet chuckle, sliding back in his chair and looking me over, reminding me that I’m in a bikini, and nowhere close to the professional attire he usually sees me in. I should feel self-conscious, but his unabashed grin makes it easy to keep my head held high. I’m not super skinny like I was in high school, but I’m not fat, either. I have just enough cushion that guys know they can’t break me. They don’t treat me like I’m fragile.
Owen doesn’t look away, and I take a second to admire my own view. He’s in a pair of low-slung, navy-blue swim trunks. He’s comfortable under my gaze. He’s not going to be a model on the cover of GQ anytime soon, but he’s definitely not un-attractive in any way. I don’t want a guy so focused on his body that he can’t appreciate mine, and guys with six-packs often spend way too much time on their appearance. They’re only worth one night, absolutely nothing more.
Even without the six-pack, I’m thinking Owen should occasionally show up at work without a shirt on.
Right... Not conducive for a work environment.
Unless I suddenly decide to start doing porn, and he’s my main co-star.
I need to stop thinking about him like this. Or forget that I work with him. One or the other. The two are not co-existing peacefully in my mind.
That playful, teasing grin falls back across his mouth. “I can be friendly with you at work, Sadie.”
If he gives me that smile at work, I’ll be done for…
That smile is not friendly. That smile is sex and games, fun and play, seductive and promising.
That smile needs to stay here. Hopefully in our room, where friendly is the last word I’ll use to describe what’s going to happen between us later. I don’t want him to be friendly with me later. I want him to let go of his usually polite manner and show me who he really is. I want to make him curse. I want to make him groan out loud, overcome by whatever I might be doing to him. I want to see who Owen really is when you strip away all audiences, pretenses, and expectations.
And clothes.
Especially his clothes.
I want the arrogant playfulness back that he just showed me.
That felt like a truer version of Owen than anything else I’ve seen.
Owen
Maybe we cleared the air about me thinking she was easy, but no matter what, she’s still more experienced than I am.
The kiss impressed her. That’s good to know. I wasn’t trying with that kiss. I was barely thinking at all, because being alone with her does something disastrous to my thought process. Like throw it in front of a speeding freight train. That reaction is kind of nice when she’s around. I say things I normally wouldn’t, and she seems to appreciate my comments. But she’s not around right now. The entire group of girls decided they needed to check out the spa, and my lack of experience is killing any confidence I pretended to have when she was sitting next to me.
At first, the girls disappearing seemed good. I need some distance to get my head together. But the longer I think about what’s most likely going to happen tonight, the more I’m questioning why I agreed to it.
What if it’s not good for her? How am I going to deal with that crushing fact, and also face her every day at work? How am I going to be friendly with her when I walk by in the mornings, if that happens?
Hell, how am I going to be only friendly with her at work even if it is good for her? How am I going to be only friendly with her after I’ve been inside her? After I’ve seen her face and heard the noises she makes when she—fingers-crossed—comes?
Even if nothing happens between us, how the hell am I going to pretend I don’t find her attractive?
I’ve always thought she was attractive, but after seeing her in that bikini and talking with her the way I did at the bar? She’s moved to a whole new level of attractiveness I didn’t know existed. It’s coated with a layer of sexiness that means I’ll now think of her in a totally different, very non-platonic way.
And it also has me comparing her to another girl who’s quickly becoming very important to me.
Sadie’s unknown, but somewhat older age is just another thing she has in common with SD. And, apparently, Sadie isn’t as easy as I thought she was.
How much do I really know about Sadie? How much of what I thought I knew was assumptions I made? And how do I stop my mind from stacking all the things they’re starting to have in common into a nice, organized list that has me reeling?
That comment about buying me a drink… Was Sadie joking with me?
A few weeks ago, she was joking about getting married with that paper delivery guy. Does she usually joke around and
I’ve just never witnessed it?
No. I can’t think like that. They’re different people. Incredibly different people. I’m simply noticing things they have in common because I desperately want to know more about SD.
“What’s happening, little brother?” Rob asks, smacking me on the shoulder. “You’re way too blue for this tropical paradise.”
“Just thinking about work.” Half-truth, but still.
“Fuck, stop that. Why the hell would you be thinking about work?”
“I work with Sadie.”
“Whoa…”
I nod, confirming the craziness, and he falls onto the bar stool beside me. “And…I may have insinuated she was easy.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “That was you? Dick move, Owen.”
Of course, he already knows. If Sadie and Alena weren’t close, she wouldn’t be in the wedding. Maybe I can use that to my advantage. “What do you know about her?”
“Not much. She and Roxy have been best friends with Alena since middle school.” He picks up my beer, and I start to tell him not to drink it, but he drains it before I get the first syllable out.
Later, I’ll be putting my lips directly on Sadie’s. And probably a lot more of her. Who cares about the beer?
Rob stands, putting the empty bottle back on the bar and throwing down a tip for the next one. “Eli went to school with them, you could ask him.”
How much more do I want to know? Would someone that went to school with Sadie tell me the things I want to know about her, or things I’ll wish I’d never learned?
If this is only a thing here, and we’re going to try to go back to normal once we get back on American soil, maybe I shouldn’t find out anything else about her except what gets her off.
Or maybe I’m afraid I’ll find out more things she has in common with SD.
“Maybe.”
“Your call. Anyway, Carl wanted me to tell you he’s going up to the room. Why you’re supposed to care, I don’t know, but I’m relaying the message.”
I follow him through the maze to our building, then find the room that was mine for all of five seconds. No matter what happens with Sadie tonight, I won’t be sleeping here. May as well collect my suitcase and find my new room.