by Claire Adams
"No, of course not."
"You're not going to let that scrawny Orcan carry your suitcase, are you?" Owen asked.
"You're not going to let that Green Witch put you under a spell, are you?" I asked.
Owen's lips curved. "Here, let me help you." He picked up my suitcase and headed out of the suite.
Anya caught him at the door. "After the newbies have all gone for their naps we're heading over to the Venetian. You coming?"
"No thanks," Owen said. "I'm not in the mood for gambling tonight."
"Who said anything about gambling? We can always grab a bottle and ride a gondola," Anya said.
Owen unhooked her hands from his collar and headed towards the elevators. "Goodnight. Tell the Clan I'll see 'em in Dark Flag later."
I stepped into the elevator first. "You don't have to do this. Go have fun with your clan," I told him.
When I turned around, Owen's lips seared across my words. I heard my suitcase drop to the elevator floor as his hands encircled my waist. He smiled through the kiss, his lips moving across mine like warm honey. Our mouths opened just as the elevator stopped at another floor.
Owen stepped back just as four people joined us. We did not say another thing until we reached the door of my new room.
"Can I come in?" he asked.
I nodded and opened the door. He came inside and shut the door behind him, then caught my waist. He pulled me against him as he leaned back on the door and our lips met again. I was off-balance, dizzy, and pressed against his body for support. Everywhere we touched, heat ignited.
His hands brushed back my loose hair, his fingertips tickling my neck. I gasped against his kiss and felt him smile again. He kept the sensation going as his fingers trailed down my bare shoulders. I gasped again, and this time, his warm tongue traced my bottom lip.
I moved up on my tiptoes to answer his exploration, and the friction between our bodies pulled a low groan from him. Owen's hands slipped to my waist, and he pressed me hard against him.
"Not enough," he whispered against my lips. "Not enough."
He stood up and bent me back, his kiss devouring me. I opened to him, hungry for his delving tongue. My fingers found the open buttons at his neck and pulled his shirt open. Underneath, his neck was hot, his skin burning to be touched.
Owen held me as he pushed us farther into the room and shed his coat. Our lips did not stop and neither did my fingers until I had stripped him of his shirt. He arched against the feel of my hands on his bare stomach and chest, his agate-blue eyes ablaze. I ran my fingertips up to his shoulders and down his arms, leading his hands to the straps of my tank top.
He peeled it down to my waist, his lips meeting mine again as he reached for the hook of my bra. I reached for the beaded necklaces, but he stopped me, his voice ragged against my lips.
"Leave them. Just them," he said. His hands dropped to the button of my jeans. He undid them and slid his hands around to the back of my waist, dropping lower as his pulled my jeans off. They dropped to the floor, and I stepped out of them.
The moment away from his body was too long, and I pulled him close again. I felt him hard through the fabric of his suit pants, and the heavy contour melted something deep inside me.
"More?" I asked, the back of my knees meeting the edge of the bed.
Owen nodded, taking off his pants. I lay back on the bed and he slipped up and over me, the heat of his body and our desire making me arch towards him. His lips crushed against me and I opened to him. As his tongue slid against mine, his hand mimicked the intoxicating friction between my legs.
I dragged my hand down his wide shoulder, across the tense hold of his arm, to where his fingers swept in small, pulsing circles. When he felt my hand press his wrist, he slipped inside my panties and pressed into me.
I arched against the exquisite pressure. His lips left mine and he panted against my neck, the sweet motion driving him harder as I melted against his touch.
I pressed up against him, pulling myself free of my panties, leaving nothing between us. Owen kissed me again, breathing words of ecstasy as he pushed inside me. I cried out at the sudden and shattering pleasure that pulsed through me and around him. He held firm until my shockwaves subsided, then rocked gently with them.
The rhythm built, his hands cupping my cheeks, his blue eyes awash like the sea. Owen looked down at me, our eyes locked together as he surged into me, a crashing wave of pure bliss.
Chapter Ten
Quinn
The rest of the tournament weekend passed in a neon-lighted blur. I assumed that was the way many weekends there ended up for the tourists all around me. I just felt like I was in a different world.
When Owen and I woke up together in the same bed, we laughed. And then, we did not talk about it again. Even on the nearly four-hour trip back to UCLA, we never mentioned it once.
"Do you like living in L.A.?" Owen asked after one particularly long pause.
"Yeah, but sometimes I wonder if I would like anywhere that gave a buffer between me and my parents," I said. "How about you? You still live in the same town you grew up in and your parents are just down the street like mine."
"When they're in town," Owen said. "My parents are different."
The Redds had money, and not the kind families got from high-powered careers. They had inherited money, old money, and it seemed to be a self-replenishing supply. Every year, Owen's parents made a big show of offering him a yearly stipend, which he immediately turned down. Then, they flew off to another jet-set location and it would be months until they appeared in Nevada again.
"Haven't you ever been tempted to be like your parents?" I asked. "It would put you in the same position as Anya." The words soured even as they came out of my mouth.
Owen scrubbed at his stubbled chin. "I've never been tempted because that's not what I want. It’s not really what they want for me, either. My parents are happy that I want to be my own man. Sometimes, when I think about taking a desk job or some other conventional thing, I hear their voices in my head telling me life's too short to go any way but my way."
I sighed. "That sounds like a luxury to me."
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "I know it looks like it’s been easy for me. I don't have anything to complain about. It’s just I've worked hard to build my own career out of nothing. The fact that it looks effortless is something I'm proud of, but I also think it takes away my credibility."
"Oh, you seemed to have plenty of credibility at the tournament," I said. I slapped his knee. "No wonder you seem to have a neverending fountain of self-confidence."
"Me? You're the one that burst on to the scene."
"That was Arrowa. I'm just plain old Quinn about to go back and scrape by with bottom grades in her nursing program." I crossed my arms and looked out the window.
"Who knows, maybe you'll get kicked out and have a chance to make it on your own," Owen said.
The thought was appealing, more than appealing. By the time Owen parked the car and we walked across campus, I had thought of a dozen legitimate ways to get kicked out of the nursing program. My parents would be angry, but I would be free. Free of them and Sienna's shadow and free to finally take a look around and decide what I wanted for myself.
"Quinn?" Owen caught me with my hand on the door knob of my dorm room. He pulled me closer and wrapped his arms tightly around my waist. "I know what we haven't been talking about is a really hard thing to talk about. Just know this."
He kissed me. Light and simple, but he let it linger until I had no doubt our thoughts were the same.
"Who needs to talk?" I asked. "We seem to be doing fine."
"Quinn, is that you?"
My blood froze as the door opened and my father stood staring at us. Owen's arms dropped away and all the blood drained from my face.
"Father? What are you doing here? Is Mother okay?" I asked.
"I'm right here," she said. My mother came into view, her arms crossed and one foot
tapping. "The question is, where have you been and what on earth have you been doing?"
"Certainly not studying," my father said. He stepped aside and all but ordered Owen and I inside the room.
I was surprised when Owen followed me. "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas," he said.
"What are you doing here, Owen?" my father asked. "Please tell me you know why this is a cause for concern."
"Frankly, I don't," Owen said.
"I don't know what you think you are doing to our family, but Quinn is in danger of losing her place in the nursing program. Anything you do is harmful to my girls, to Quinn, don't you see that?" my father asked.
"I'm losing my place in the nursing program?" I prayed my hopeful tone had not been heard.
"No," my father said. "Your mother and I drove here and convinced your advisor otherwise. You are on probation, but you will be able to work your way back up. We'll discuss it as soon as this thoughtless, careless, waste of space leaves."
"Father! You can't talk to Owen that way," I protested.
"No, it’s okay, Quinn. I understand. Your father needs someone to blame and it should be me," Owen said. "Better me than Sienna or you or anyone else. Listen to them, don't lose what you have here before you know what you want."
His words hurt, but I still followed him to the door and grabbed his hand. He squeezed mine before pulling free. "See you around."
"I'm sorry, Owen. This is horrible," I said. I stood frozen as he winked at me and left the room. Then my anger boiled to the surface. "How dare you blame Owen. You know he was never anything but wonderful to Sienna and to me."
"There is no you and Owen, Quinn," my mother said. "That is a ridiculous and terrible thought. You need to get yourself together."
"And that is why we waited to talk to you," my father said. "Because you are now on probation, and because we pay a large part of your tuition, you will be coming home every weekend so we can ensure you are studying."
"I'm not a child," I said.
"Then stop acting that way and get serious about your career," my father said.
They left before I could even begin to explain the ideas I had for my own life or my own career. Under the harsh fluorescent lights of my dorm room, it seemed like I only had one choice, and it had been made for me.
#
"The problem is that I really did love nursing when I started," I said. "It’s just that it was always overshadowed by Sienna, and then it didn't seem like my choice. And, well, the rest kind of unraveled by itself."
Darla sat on my bed and nodded. "You're good at nursing. I know you'd make a spectacular nurse, but who says that's a good reason for staying in a profession? It’s better to be having these thoughts now than three, four years out of school. Rent, car payments, bills, it could get real ugly, then trying to drop a good nursing paycheck and reach for your dreams."
"What dreams? What if I'm just escaping and the whole gamer world is the easiest path?"
"Easy? I die like 15 times every time I try to play. If you've survived this long, won a tournament, then maybe you should keep going," Darla said. "What I can't believe is that you agreed to go home weekends."
"Well, they never said I'd be under house arrest. They just want to see that I'm keeping up with my studying," I said.
"So, you're really going home to be closer to Owen. Now that, I get."
"Yeah, I'll let you know if it works," I said.
I managed to stay hopeful the entire drive, but as soon as I pulled into Summerlin, I started to worry. Not once had my parents asked if nursing was something I actually wanted to pursue. That was not even an issue to them. I knew as soon as I set foot in their house, I was in danger of becoming the unseen daughter again.
My worry multiplied when I saw a strange car in the driveway. My first night home and my parents had houseguests. So, instead of finishing all my studying that night, proofing it in the morning, and being free to see Owen, I would be stuck playing the dutiful daughter for their friends.
"Hello?" I called in the foyer.
"There you are, baby. Took you long enough."
I reeled back against the door and wondered what nightmare I had walked into. Trent strolled down the hallway with both hands out.
He pried my fingers from the door handle and kissed my cheek. "Your father invited me. Your advisor told him we were dating and he thought it would be a nice surprise before you studied all weekend."
"But that's not your car in the driveway," I said.
Trent pulled me along to the front parlor. "No, that's Nicky's car. I promised him a night in Vegas if he came to family dinner."
Nicky sat across from my father, who was bravely ignoring his see-through mesh shirt. "Trent brought a friend," was all my father said.
"No, no, no, not a friend. Nicky's more of a boy toy," Trent said. "We surprised your father. He was hoping I would come and keep your mind off a certain someone. Turns out I'm not the only one that disapproves of Owen Redd."
"The gamer?" Nicky asked. "Oooh, I do like that magazine cover shot of him."
Trent slapped Nicky's leg. "He's the one I caught with his tongue down my girlfriend's throat."
"Ex-girlfriend," I said. My father was fast becoming an awful shade of purple, but I decided to go with his “honesty is the best policy” course of action. "I broke up with Trent because I caught him having sex with another man. Owen kissed me in a ridiculous ploy to make Trent jealous. It was childish, but that was it."
"He also almost knocked my head off my shoulders," Trent said.
For a moment, it looked as if my father might applaud Owen's efforts. "You should have been honest with me on the phone, Trent. I do not appreciate you coming here to cause a scene. Now, if you'll please excuse us, I believe it would be better for you to go before my wife-"
"Sorry I'm late to the party. Just a few finishing touches," my mother said. She swept into the room in a flowing black dress with a coral red necklace. She often overdressed for dinner, especially when she thought her daughters were entertaining young men.
"Turns out I made a mistake," my father caught her in the door. "Quinn broke up with him and now Trent is here with his new boyfriend."
"Boy toy," Trent corrected him.
"Honestly, Quinn, you can't stick with anything these days, can you?" my mother asked. She peered over my father's shoulder at Trent and Nicky. "Well, boys, the least you could do is pour us all some of that wine."
She took the glass Trent gave her and, in front of everyone, popped two pills into her mouth before her first sip.
Both my parents gave me angry and accusing looks. The room was painfully quiet, as if they expected me to be the one to buoy up the conversation. I pressed my fingernails into my palms and tried not to scream at everyone. How was this supposed to be helping me get back on track? What kind of track was this?
I caught a wicked gleam in Trent's eye before he launched into the raunchy story of how he and Nicky met. My mother pounded her glass of wine and Nicky poured her another before my father could intervene. The entire night was coming apart before my eyes, and then the doorbell rang.
"Hi, I heard you were home. Maybe we can grab some Chinese food before you crack down on studying?"
"Oh my God, Owen," I said. "You could not have come at a worse time. Please, just turn around and run."
Owen laughed. "There is no way I'm leaving now. Whose car is that?"
I pressed my forehead with both hands. "Seriously. I am so glad to see you. I didn't think I would after my dorm room and all that. But I'm telling you that you do not want to be here now."
"I'm not letting your father's misplaced anger keep me from seeing you," Owen said.
He dropped a kiss on the top of my head and strode past me to the front parlor.
Chapter Eleven
Owen
I was ready to face Mr. and Mrs. Thomas, but I was not ready for the other dinner guests. Trent met me in the doorway with a glass of wine. I almost wiped the cheeky sm
ile off his face with my fist. Mrs. Thomas's white carpet was the only thing that saved him.
"Do I know you from somewhere?" I asked Trent.
His smile slipped a little, but he brightened with malice when Quinn joined us. "I'm Quinn's boyfriend."
"Ex-boyfriend," she said.
I handed her the wine that Trent had given me. "The cheater," I said. "Little late to be kissing up to the family, don't you think?"
"Advice you might want to take yourself," Trent said.
My father bolted to his feet. "Barbara, why don't you come help me in the kitchen."
It was too late. My mother was already weaving to her feet with a red-painted fingernail pointing straight at Owen. "How dare you come in here. How dare you come anywhere near Quinn. You must be the devil sent to steal my daughters. I can see horns on his head, can't you?"
Nicky was too afraid to answer, and tried to hide behind Trent.
"I can, Mrs. Thomas," Trent said.
"Barbara, dear, why don't you lay down before dinner? I can handle things down here," my father interrupted.
Her eyes were already filling with tears, the medication no use against the beginning of a downswing. "None of this would have happened if… I don't want any of this, anyway." My mother flew out of the room and up the stairs.
Just when I thought we could clear everyone out and be done with the whole disaster, my father said, "Quinn, why don't you help me set the table for dinner?"
"Are you kidding me?" Quinn hissed as her father pulled her into the adjoining dining room.
"Not at all. You created this mess, and you damn well better deal with it," Mr. Thomas said. "This kind of reckless and frankly disturbing decision-making is exactly why I've asked you to start coming home on weekends. Now, I don't care what kind of discomfort it causes you, you are going to serve dinner and we are going to act like civilized hosts."
I stepped towards the door to intervene, but Trent sidled in front of me. "Now, now, you should know better than to interrupt family affairs."
"This isn't entertainment. I'm going to help Quinn," I said.