Inhibitions

by Mattie Bowman

  “Please stop saying that. It’s getting on my nerves.” He chuckled and moved the cloth to the front of my throat. I closed my eyes, the sensation soothing my wobbly stomach.

  “Yeah, you look utterly annoyed.” I squeezed his hand, attempting to take the cloth from him but he refused. “You don’t have to take care of me.”

  “It’s not the first time.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “I won’t. Not now,” he said. “Later. I will remind you many times.”

  “You’ll never let me live any of this down will you?”

  He sighed and pushed some hair off my face. “You’re beautiful, you know.”

  “What?” Whiplash much? “I am so far from that right now.” There could’ve been vomit in my hair, and I wouldn’t know.

  “You are. Even like this…” A smile played on his lips. “Beautiful.”

  I scrunched my eyebrows at him, wishing I could concentrate on what he was saying instead of the rolling pain in my stomach. “I wish these meds would kick in already.”

  “Should any minute now.” He glanced at his phone.

  “I hope this doesn’t last the whole trip.” I shuddered at the thought.

  “It won’t.” He stroked my back up and down in soothing circles. “As long as we aren’t dumb enough to go up ten-thousand feet again.”

  I pressed my palms into my eyes. I couldn’t believe I’d ruined his fantasy when all I’d wanted was to fulfill it. Knowing that—our compatibility, and that I wanted to please him and was more than willing to do so—should have sent me flying with excitement, but under the more than confusing circumstances, I didn’t have a clue how to feel about it. I knew one thing for sure, though—if I hadn’t gotten sick, I would’ve slept with him then and there—regardless of knowing where we stood or what we’d do after. There was something in me that electrified when he’d kissed me and now that the spark was lit, I couldn’t wait to explore it again.

  My stomach turned, and I flew off the bed, rushing back into the bathroom and slamming the door behind me. Nothing like reality to stop the fantasy.

  “Can I come in?” He asked, knocking on the door.

  “No,” I said. “You’ve helped enough. Go. Please. Do something. Anything but stay here and watch this horror show.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You’re so frustrating!” And so freaking perfect. How could he be this good to me and I never noticed? How could he take care of me after I’d spoiled everything?

  His words on the Gondola fluttered through my mind, his declarations of wanting me for me and not the experience, not the fantasy. But that couldn’t be right, could it? He was Owen. Notorious player. Dropper of more panties than a rock star.

  I stood up when my stomach settled and opened the door, finding him standing outside it, again. “I need to shower.”

  “You want help?” he smirked.

  “No,” I said, though it was tempting. “I want you out of here. Go salvage what is left of the day. I’m going to try and sleep after I get clean.”

  “You think the meds are working?” He asked, and I yawned in response. “Maybe I should stick around until you’re out.”

  “Stop, please. You’re being way too nice after all the awful. I love you but go.” The words left my mouth before I could stop them, but honestly, I hadn’t thought to try. I’d often told him I loved him…but now…holy fuck now everything was all confusing.

  He quickly kissed my forehead. “I’ll go get you crackers and ginger ale. That’s as long as I’m leaving you.”

  “Get a drink while you’re at it!” I yelled as he walked out of the bedroom. “Or two!”

  I heard him growl as he shut the door to the suite behind him.

  After a two-hour nap and yet another shower, I felt refreshed…and starving. I was both shocked and pleased to find the suite empty. At least he respected my need for privacy. And for him to not witness any more of my humiliation. Seriously, it was like I had a freaking curse called you will never have the sexiest of sex ever.

  Throwing on a pair of yoga pants and a tank-top—food the only concern on my mind at the moment—I hurried out of the suite, hoping to find Owen in the restaurant or the bar area. Despite making a complete fool of myself, again, I wanted to talk about what happened—not the vomit part—I facepalmed myself while walking down the stairs—but the part where he’d said he’d wanted me. Like, for real wanted me and not just for this vacation. Part of me thought I’d misunderstood; surely he couldn’t have meant that. He was the ultimate player, and I was a one man at a time kind of woman. And if he had meant it, was he expecting me to be okay with a non-monogamous relationship? Because if he thought that then he didn’t know me at all.

  By the time I’d reached the restaurant, I’d decided that I had to have heard him wrong and that he for sure had meant he wanted me just for the trip—the idea we’d already toyed with. A quick scan of the place didn’t offer up an Owen, but I ordered some soup and crackers and took a seat anyway. As I slowly ate, testing the stability of my stomach, I tried to ignore the all around annoying sensation plaguing me—where was he?

  Is this how he felt when I’d gone and played poker with Anderson?

  The gnawing irritation and irrational jealousy continued to flare as I pictured him seeking out a willing—and non-vomiting participant—to work out the frustration I’d revved up in him while in the Gondola. Pushing the empty bowl away, I ran my fingers through my hair while shaking my head. Owen wouldn’t do that.

  Or would he? Hadn’t he practically accused me of doing that with Anderson? I rolled my eyes. I’d never once had so much trouble figuring out what was on Owen’s mind, let alone what he wanted. Usually, it came as natural as breathing, but since we’d arrived, since we’d pushed the boundaries that had been in place for years, I felt like he was slipping away a bit.

  My hands lingered on my neck as I let them drop back to the table, the skin still sensitive from when he’d kissed, teased, and sucked it. A warm flutter flew through me, shattering every single flaring bit of unmerited jealousy I had. If he could make me feel like that with just a kiss, where would he take me if we had sex, nirvana?

  I bit my lower lip, still feeling weak from the horribly-timed altitude sickness, but had energy enough to seek him out and see if we could finish what we started. Even if I only got to have him for the time we were here; I decided I would enjoy every inch of him he’d allow—because honestly, I was terrified no one would ever make me fly as high as he had in that Gondola.

  If he wasn’t here, he had to be at the bar in the nightclub. I highly doubted he would’ve gotten lost like I did, just as I doubted he’d be at the pool, spa, or…well, he might be at the gym. The bar was closer, but if he wasn’t in there, I’d check the gym next.

  The second I stepped through the doors I realized I was in the wrong attire to be in there. I stuck out like...a girl in yoga pants at a nightclub filled with ladies strutting their stuff in hot cocktail dresses. I curled my arms around my stomach and walked toward the bar. I stopped a few steps in, ice filling my veins.

  Owen was there, looking delicious as he leaned against the bar, one hand around an empty glass. And the woman who had her hand on his cheek looked even more gorgeous in a tight black dress, her chin-length brown hair showing off a beautifully bare neck. She laughed at something he said, the motion moving her to lean into him even more than she already was. Owen steadied her with a hand on her shoulder, grinning.

  All the sensations of getting sick again swarmed me—my brain told me to flee but I was frozen in place. I’d seen Owen operate plenty of times before and I never had this reaction.

  You wanted to believe he truly wanted you.

  My mistake. He had been expecting me to be okay with him being with me and other women. Fuck, maybe he didn’t have a clue who I was.

  His eyes trailed up and over the girl’s head, locking onto mine. The grin melted off his face so I must’ve been we
aring my pain like a fucking neon sign. Great. I tried to force a laugh before spinning on my heels and bolting out of the club. I practically flew down the hallway, hearing the sound of my name on Owen’s lips as he came out after me.

  I ignored him and bounded up the stairs. I’d embarrassed myself enough for one lifetime; he did not need to see me cry over him hitting on another woman—especially when he was completely free to do so. If only my aching heart would compute that!

  Slamming the door of the suite behind me, I made to dash into my room, but he barreled into the suite. No more running.

  “Presley,” he said, slightly out of breath. “What are you doing out of bed?”

  I snorted, tears stinging the backs of my eyes. “I was...hungry.”

  I sucked in a deep breath and bit the inside of my check to stop the damned tears. This was so not worth crying over.

  He stepped toward me, his eyes trailing up and down my body. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I answered a little too quickly and tried to cover by casually walking to the kitchen for a bottle of water. “I’m going back to bed now. You didn’t need to come all the way up here.” I held up the bottle as I passed him, not making eye contact.

  “Wait.” He gently clutched my arm, forcing me to a halt.

  I turned slowly to look up at him, unable to form a coherent thought with his hand on me. My skin ignited under his touch, remembering every single thrill he’d given me earlier today. Swallowing hard, I shifted my weight, but he didn’t let me go. “You should probably get back to…whoever it is you were working.” I jerked out of his grip, focusing on the jealousy to kill the heat flooding my thighs with how close he was.

  He knitted his eyebrows before chuckling. “Hurts doesn’t it?”

  “What?” I snapped.

  Crossing his arms over his massive chest, he shook his head. “Thinking I was trying to be with her.” He shrugged.

  “Are you saying you did that to get back at me for Anderson? Because last time I checked, I’m not the man-whore in our relationship.” I gasped after the words came out, the anger fueling the venom I’d spit. I opened my mouth to say I was sorry, to take it back, but he stopped me by closing the space between us, his hands on my hips, yanking me against him.

  “I can’t help who I was, Presley.” He grazed my cheek with his lips, inhaling deeply like he could breathe me in. “But I wouldn’t ruin this shot with you.”

  My eyes wanted to do nothing but roll back in my head with the way he moved against me, his skin touching mine, his strong hands at the base of my back, but I pulled backward. “Look, I was fine with this being a package deal with an end date, knowing it wouldn’t last after we left here, but I can’t be the girl who shares you, even if it is fake. I can’t do it, Owen.”

  He pulled me back to him, a growl rumbling from his chest. “Damn it, Presley; I’m not asking you to do that.”

  I splayed my fingers against his hard chest, unable to catch my breath. “You don’t have to ask! I saw it…you, you’ve never been a one-woman man, and I’ve never had a problem with that. This is just a job, and I owe you more than I’ll ever be ever to repay for coming here with me. I shouldn’t be putting you through any extra emotional baggage either.” I tapped his chest, nodding as I realized it was absolutely true. My confused feelings had forced my anger, jealousy, and even lust to the forefront and I was going to lose him if I let it go on any longer. “I can’t lose you, Owen. You’re my best friend.” I took a step backward, needing the air to clear my head. “So, go back down there. Do what you do.” Acid rolled up my throat after I’d said the words, but it had to be said. I had no real claim on him.

  He groaned, raking his fingers across his scalp. “She’s married! We were just talking. Laughing about how she fucked up a Wonderland room with her husband. She was waiting for him to meet her there.”

  My mouth dropped, but I quickly closed it.

  He stalked toward me, and I retreated until my back hit the floor to ceiling glass windows that separated our room from the deck. “And I want you.” He crushed his lips on mine, holding my head to his, pouring a fierce amount of devouring passion into the kiss before he broke us apart. He scanned every inch of my face as he held it between his hands. “For real. I want to stop pretending. Pretending that I don’t light up when you walk into the room, that I don’t fight harder when you’re ringside, that I don’t fucking love the smell of your perfume in my apartment after you’ve been there.”

  Words choked themselves in my throat, my heart racing.

  He smoothed my hair away from my face. “Please, tell me if you aren’t feeling this.” He pressed his body against mine, the hard cuts of him hitting all the soft parts of me in the most delicious way. I closed my eyes, moaning a response that he swallowed with his mouth. “Tell me to stop.” His fingers teased my skin at the hem of my shirt. “Tell me, Presley, what you want.”

  I looked up at him, fighting through my shock and focusing on the way my body felt against his. Hot, aching. Wanting. No need. I needed him so bad, and in that moment, I forgot everything outside of him.

  “You,” I said, sighing as I reached up and grabbed the back of his neck, forcing him down to my level so I could slip my tongue in his mouth. The groan that roared from his throat fueled the ache between my thighs.

  He wrapped his arms under my ass and lifted. I locked my ankles around his hips, loving the powerful rush that soared through my blood as I devoured him from a higher level. He tasted like mint and honey and he moved his tongue against mine like he’d done it a thousand times before. Like he’d studied the perfect way to make me wet with just a flick of his tongue.

  Pressing me against the glass wall, he kissed his way down my neck, grazing his lips over the tops of my breasts that peeked out of my tank top. I shamelessly ground against him in an attempt to relieve the pressure building inside of me. Clawing at his shirt, he finally shifted, setting me gently on my feet. I peeled the shirt over his head, marveling at the abs I’d only ever been allowed to look at before. Tentatively I reached out my fingers, tracing the edges of each cut of muscle. He sighed as I ran them over his perfect V lines, slipping my hand just inside the band of his shorts to tease him.

  “You,” he said, ripping off my tank top and popping the clasps on my bra without even blinking. He sucked in a breath when he saw my bare breasts, the fire in his eyes igniting deep inside me. I grinned at him, trying not to laugh at the way we ogled each other like we were in high school and seeing things for the first time.

  When he sank to his knees, shock killed the hilarity of the situation. He cupped my breasts in his hands, rolling my nipples between his fingers as he kissed my stomach. I arched against his warm mouth, moaning when he trailed his tongue over my hips. Glancing up at me, he cocked an eyebrow as he hooked his fingers in the band of my yoga pants. I nodded my consent, resisting the urge to smack him for taking the time to ask.

  Shredding me of the last of my clothes, not even bothering to keep my panties on, he tossed them behind him and pressed me against the glass. I gasped and threw my head back when he set his mouth on my center, his tongue gliding over my wetness in the lightest of touches. The contrast between the cold glass at my back and the heat from his mouth sent chills across my skin.

  “Fuck, Presley.” He groaned against me, one hand gripping my hip while the other hooked my leg up and rested my knee over his shoulder. He smirked up at me. “You’re delicious.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but he slipped his tongue across my clit, and I forgot that words existed. Fisting his hair, I held on to him to steady myself because with each swipe of his tongue I nearly went weak at the knees. Heat pooled low in my belly as he stroked me, flicking and sucking until I writhed against his mouth.

  “Owen,” I moaned, arching into him when he slipped his tongue inside me.

  “Mmmm,” he hummed against me, sending a succession of trembles between my thighs which sent me over the edge.

&nb
sp; “Oh God,” I gasped, gripping his hair tighter between my fingers as I came apart above him. He worked me down with slow strokes which led to light kisses. That was the only reprieve I got before he stood up, swiped an arm underneath my legs, and carried me to the giant bed in my room.

  Stripping himself down after setting me gently on the bed, he crawled toward me until he settled between my thighs. The weight of his massive frame felt beyond delicious; it was perfect. I cupped his cheek, never losing his eyes as he slowly inched himself inside of me.

  “Fucking perfect.” He arched his head back, sucking in a sharp breath, and I gasped with his entry. He moved slow, allowing my body to accommodate his large size, which my walls hugged tightly.

  I shifted beneath him, wrapping my legs around his hip, urging him to go faster. He got the signal, upping his speed, but only enough to torture me. With greedy fingers, I slid my hands over every inch of his body I could reach. His smooth skin rested over such tight muscles I wondered how the man didn’t burst and reveled the way he tensed inside me when I bucked my hips against him.

  Yanking his hair, I nipped at his lower lip before sucking it into my mouth. He hissed, taking my tongue into his mouth hungrily. The heat inside my core magnified as his hard cock slid in and out of me with perfect ease, hitting every single spot I never knew I had. With each thrust, he sent me flying, electric sparks shooting across my skin. Everything coiled inside me, begging for release.

  “Owen,” I moaned. “Please.” I rocked against him, needing him to come with me.

  “You want me to come inside you?” He asked, his breath short as he slowed his pace.

  “Yes.” It was then that I realized we didn’t have a condom on. I’d never been so thankful for the five-year implant I’d gotten when I’d been engaged. I clenched my eyes against the thought of David and forced myself back to the present.

  “Open your eyes,” Owen demanded, and I obeyed, locking onto his gorgeous brown eyes. He never left mine as he moved inside me, alternating between slow and fast so much my head spun. The smirk on his face said he loved keeping me on the edge. Two could play that game.