Maybe It's Real

  He lifted her chin and said against her lips, “You know I mean you, not your underwear. You are beautiful. In every way.”

  Chloe smiled at him. She had no other response, so she let him see how happy he made her.

  And that’s when Owen lost it.

  She’d thought he lost it when he’d broken through whatever was holding him back and kissed her the first time.

  Nope.

  He took her face in his hands and devoured her, demanding everything she had. Chloe fought to keep up.

  Somehow they made it to the bedroom, fell together onto the bed, and she felt his delicious weight on her, pressing her into the mattress.

  “Touch me,” Owen panted in ragged breaths between explicit, searing kisses that turned her inside out.

  He flexed over her as she ran her hands down his naked back, familiar with his body, knowing what would drive him wild.

  She lingered at the dimples at the base of his spine that she’d discovered when massaging him were highly sensitive—at least going on the noises she’d wrung out of him then—and, yes, there it was.

  He gasped and moaned, rolling his hips restlessly between her thighs as she stroked him, then to her surprise, he stiffened and pushed up to his forearms.

  “Don’t move,” he said, and climbed off the bed.

  “I think the words you’re looking for are ‘Freeze, scumbag’.”

  “Nope. The words I’m looking for are, ‘Aha, here is the condom’.” He held up the foil square he’d taken from his wallet with a fierce grin, then ripped it open, kicked off his jeans, and put it on.

  He was back on top of her before she’d even taken her bra off. Chloe let out a startled laugh when he flipped her, unfastened the bra and pulled her panties down to her knees, and flipped her back again.

  He skimmed the bra straps down her arms and threw it aside. Her panties were next, whisked off and flung carelessly away.

  They were both naked.

  Owen was on his knees between her thighs. His erection pointed straight up, and his long fingers were locked around her knees. With a gentle tug, he slid her closer. He leaned over her, planting a hand on the mattress above her shoulder.

  Chloe turned her head and kissed his wrist.

  Owen lowered himself down slowly, and the breath caught in his throat as they came together, nothing between them. He took her mouth again as he stroked between her legs, taking his time. He waited until Chloe was begging him before he guided himself into her.

  Chloe had never felt so connected to anyone in her life.

  It could have been because he’d teased her and made her wait, or because at this moment he made up her entire world, his hard body covering hers, claiming her from the inside out…but she suspected it was simply because it was Owen.

  And she loved the hell out of him.

  He rocked into her with smooth pulses of his hips, and Chloe lifted herself to meet his rhythm. She opened her mouth to plead with him to go faster, harder, but before she could say anything, he did it.

  He moaned, one of his drawn-out, gruffly erotic and filthy-sounding moans.

  Chloe bit her lip to stop laughing, but she couldn’t hide the way the humor shook through her.

  “Yeah.” Owen caught her jaw and turned it to the side as he pressed small, sucking kisses the length of her neck, making his way up to her earlobe, which he bit. “I know I’m ridiculous. Don’t care.” He panted into her ear. “Laugh all you want. You knew this would happen.”

  She massaged his clenching buttocks.

  “Aaaaaaahhhhh. Mmhmm. Mmhmmm. So good, Chloe. You feel so good.”

  He pushed his arms under her and curled his hands over her shoulders, pulling her into his relentless thrusts.

  The changed angle brought pressure right where she needed it most. It was Chloe’s turn to moan.

  Owen flashed her a grin of amusement, so she tightened her inner muscles around him.

  His hips stuttered. “Uhn. Shit. Do that again.”

  She did.

  Owen seized her mouth with his in a devastating kiss as his thrusts turned into fast, deep lunges that would have rocked her up the bed if he hadn’t been holding her to him so tightly.

  Chloe broke away and her back arched as her orgasm hit without warning, radiating outward from where they were joined in a brutal, splintering rush.

  Owen stared down at her hungrily as she gasped, then his eyes closed and his head dropped to her shoulder. He jerked into her as he came, saying her name.

  * * * *

  Chloe woke up slowly, wrapped in delicious warmth, her muscles soft and body humming. She blinked her eyes open, turned her head, and had to move back a couple of inches before she could bring Owen’s sleeping face into focus.

  He was on top of her again. He had one arm shoved under the pillow and the other around her waist, tucking her under him. One leg was thrown over hers, pinning her to the mattress, and his torso was heavy against her.

  Once again, she marveled at how her first instinct wasn’t to squirm free.

  To the casual observer it might look like a romantic arrangement of limbs, a harmonious alignment of two bodies in tune with each other, sated after a long night of lovemaking, but damn was it uncomfortable. He was like a furnace. She was sweating.

  She had no intention of moving until she had to.

  She studied Owen, tracing the line of his dark brows, the straight nose and uncompromising jaw. His lips were swollen and reddened. No doubt hers were, too. He seemed to be almost smiling.

  He was smiling.

  He was awake.

  He didn’t say anything. His smile didn’t grow or fade, remaining a faint curve. His eyes, though.

  Chloe didn’t think Owen was fully awake yet, because he was showing her everything in his eyes.

  She saw love. She saw banked desire. She saw a carnal knowing, the reflected memory of what they’d done during the night.

  Twice.

  In a micro-stretch of his muscles, he read the shape of her beneath him, and she saw him luxuriate in the physical contact.

  And then she saw a slow shuttering of his unguarded, waking self, followed by the inevitable tensing.

  She would get this man to do yoga or t’ai chi or meditate if it killed her.

  Chloe ran the fingers of the hand he wasn’t lying on up and down his side. He was going to say something, wasn’t he? Any minute now, he was going to say something that they’d both regret. Something he wouldn’t be able to take back, using words like mistake, and, shouldn’t have.

  While Chloe was, at this point, fairly confident about Owen’s feelings for her, he wasn’t the only one whose life had gotten flipped upside down, and was feeling emotionally raw, exposed.

  So she reached up, stroked his lush lower lip, then covered his mouth with the flat of her hand.

  He raised his brows. “Mmph?”

  “You have the right to remain silent,” Chloe said seriously.

  He rolled his eyes and groaned.

  She smiled, then moved her hand to give him a gentle, closed-mouth kiss. “Don’t say anything.”

  His eyelids lowered a fraction as he considered her.

  “Unless you have a burning desire—” she started.

  Owen nodded enthusiastically.

  “—to have a long and in-depth conversation about what this all means, right here and now—”

  The nodding cut off.

  “—then I was thinking it would be a good idea if we table that conversation for another time. Suit you?”

  Owen propped himself up on an elbow so he could cup her cheek. He rubbed a thumb over her cheekbone. “Yeah, it—”

  “Nope.” She clapped her hand over his mouth.

  His fingers encircled her wrist, and he tugged her away. “It sounds—”

  “Nope.” Chloe tried to gag him again, but he ended up catching both hands. She stretched up and kissed him. “No talking.”

  “Not even pleasantries?” he muttered agai
nst her mouth.

  Chloe considered it. “Pleasantries are probably safe. Go ahead.”

  “Good morning.”

  “Morning.”

  He started to say something else, but instead he flopped over onto his back, tucking her into his side. Chloe shuffled around to get comfortable, laying her head on his chest. They both sighed at the same time, as if they’d choreographed it. Chloe burst into giggles.

  Owen didn’t.

  He tightened his hold.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  After talking to Rob, Owen had come very close to making what could have been the biggest mistake of his life.

  He’d gone to Chloe to tell her they needed to take a break and step back before someone got hurt, to steer their relationship back on course to what it was always supposed to be.

  Fake. Not real.

  But instead of making that mistake and taking a step back, Owen had taken a step forward. It was a step he couldn’t undo. He’d crossed the threshold. He’d dropped his guard.

  He wasn’t even a little bit sorry.

  Chloe made him so damn happy.

  For some unfathomable reason, he seemed to make her happy, too.

  He loved her.

  He had a suspicion that he’d loved her for a while now.

  Two nights ago, he’d staggered home after a brutal shift and lay in bed, unable to sleep despite his exhaustion. He’d tried to pinpoint when it had happened.

  He’d narrowed it down to somewhere between when they began texting, and Jim’s BBQ.

  Really, he thought that he’d been falling for Chloe from the moment she pssted at him in Roscoe’s bar.

  Holding her in his arms, making love to her, bringing her to orgasm and giving her something rather than taking from her…that was when he stopped being able to fool himself he wasn’t crazy for her.

  For everything about her.

  Her warmth, her optimism, her compassion and empathy. Her ridiculous imagination. Her smile, the silken brush of her skin over his, her kisses.

  Everything that Chloe Abbott was, Owen adored.

  And he was terrified of ruining her.

  It was an irrational, knee-jerk reaction. Owen was aware of that. It didn’t seem to matter; he couldn’t shake it.

  As fiercely as he wanted Chloe, he just as fiercely didn’t want to hurt her. He’d hoped that whatever insight he got from Rob would reveal some fault or behavior of his that he could adjust and clear his path to a future with Chloe.

  It had done nothing more than annoy the fuck out of him.

  Yes, he worked too much. He was shit at showing up on time, at being available. He worked shifts, he worked late, he couldn’t guarantee he’d get holidays free, and he could be called in anytime.

  The thing was, Chloe had known this from the start, and she’d never had a problem with it.

  They texted over the following week, keeping it light and inconsequential. They were in an oddly comfortable holding pattern.

  At least three times a day, Owen had his phone in hand, poised to call her, but he never did. Chloe didn’t call him, either. He knew why.

  Nothing about them was casual anymore.

  The next time he saw Chloe, the next time he had her within reach, his life was going to change.

  * * * *

  CHLOE: What do you think?

  OWEN: Wow. Is that the dress for the wedding?

  CHLOE: Yep.

  OWEN: Beautiful.

  CHLOE: Thanks! I borrowed it from Anna. Had to shorten it by four inches ;)

  OWEN: The dress is wow. YOU are beautiful. When I say beautiful, I will always mean you.

  CHLOE: Swoon.

  OWEN: :)

  * * * *

  CHLOE: Are we driving up together on Friday, or do you want to go separately?

  OWEN: I want to drive you but can’t guarantee when I’ll get out of work. Don’t want you waiting around.

  CHLOE: I’d wait forever for you, Owen Vance.

  OWEN: Swoon.

  CHLOE: :p

  * * * *

  CHLOE: PRESENT!!! I HAVEN’T BOUGHT A PRESENT YET!!!!!

  CHLOE: I don’t know these people! What do they like?

  CHLOE: Shall I buy spa vouchers?

  CHLOE: Wine glasses?

  CHLOE: Skydiving lessons? Owen?

  CHLOE: Owen??

  CHLOE: I’m buying the skydiving lessons.

  Owen grinned at Chloe’s panicked texts, and called her on his break. It was almost eleven p.m. “I hope the skydiving lessons are refundable,” he said when she picked up after two rings. “I bought the present already.”

  “I didn’t click the button yet. I’m online looking at it. It’s a good idea, though? Right? They’ll like skydiving?”

  Owen snorted at the idea of Tyler going near any physical activity that would ruin his hair. Greg, on the other hand? Greg would love it. Greg would strap his husband in a tandem harness, leap out the plane, and enjoy the shrieking all the way.

  Now Owen knew what he was getting them for their first anniversary.

  “Owen? Will they like it or not? Never mind. I’m buying it.”

  “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to drop the mouse and step away from the computer.”

  “This is no time to turn me on—”

  He laughed. “I mean it, step away. You don’t have to buy anything. It’s taken care of. I already bought them a gift from both of us. All you have to do is sign the card.”

  “Oh.”

  “That okay?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She heaved a sigh of relief. “I can’t believe I forgot. It’s in four days! I’m usually more organized than this, but I’ve been so worried about getting a dress, and I couldn’t find one. D’you know how many lunch hours I’ve spent shopping for a dress, Owen? Five. Luckily, Anna talked me down and lent me one of hers. Even more luckily, Anna’s cousin Nora can actually sew because I sure as hell can’t, and she altered the hem for me. But you know about the dress. And you’ve bought the present. My hero. Okay. Let me know how much I owe you, and then I can breathe easy.”

  “I can safely say you owe me nothing.”

  “Cute. I’m paying half. What did you buy?”

  “A painting. Tyler’s been collecting a local artist for years. I bought his latest. You’re not paying half.”

  “It sounds perfect. We’ll wrestle about it later.”

  Oh, they’d wrestle. But she wasn’t paying. “I look forward to it.”

  “I do, too.”

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too. Bye.”

  Owen hung up, and it took a full minute before her words percolated.

  I love you.

  Chloe had said I love you.

  So had Owen.

  He fumbled for his phone and typed furiously. Three little dots appeared and disappeared, showing that Chloe was typing, too.

  He sped up to beat her to it, then hit send.

  OWEN: Don’t take it back.

  OWEN: I’m not taking it back.

  CHLOE: I’m not either.

  OWEN: See you Friday?

  CHLOE: <3

  * * * *

  Owen had planned to broach the awkward subject with Janet and Bruce, say what he had to say, and head home to sleep after a long damn day, but Janet distracted him with leftover soup from lunch. She followed it up with cookies.

  He didn’t have any groceries at home, and had eaten takeout four days in a row.

  Owen caved without a fight.

  He inhaled two bowls of Janet’s homemade tomato soup and bread fresh from the bakery that morning, then took his cookies into the living room where Bruce was, so he only had to do this once.

  Janet bustled about making coffee. Owen accepted a cup with reluctance. Janet’s coffee was strong enough to launch him into orbit. He diluted it with a hearty dose of creamer even though he preferred it black, and sat on the couch making distracted small talk,
wondering how to bring the topic up.

  Half an hour later, he still hadn’t gotten it out. If he didn’t find a way to start, he’d chicken out, and Janet and Bruce would be blindsided with Chloe at their son’s wedding.

  Janet was an intuitive woman. Bruce was a smart guy. They’d take one look at Owen and Chloe together, and they’d know. Chloe was more than his girlfriend.

  She was his future.

  His timing sucked. The Spensers were heading to Napa tomorrow morning, the wedding was in forty-eight hours, and he’d much rather have waited until after Tyler’s big day was over before springing this on them, but…it was one thing for them to say they wanted Owen to be happy and move on. It was another thing to see it without an advance warning.

  “Mom,” he said, setting his cup down on the coffee table harder than he’d intended.

  Janet, who’d had a cookie halfway to her mouth, jumped. The cookie hit her knees, dropped to the carpet, and broke apart. “Goodness, Owen, I’m right here. You don’t have to yell at me.”

  Bruce chuckled.

  “Sorry.” Owen stood. “I’ll get the vacuum.”

  Janet waved him back to the couch. “I’d rather you sit down and spit out whatever you’ve been gagging on for the last half hour, because I don’t know if I can stand the fidgeting and the suspense any longer.”

  Owen scooped up the pieces of broken cookie and put them on his own empty plate, then put the plate on the coffee table.

  “It’s Chloe, isn’t it?” Janet said.

  See?

  Intuitive.

  One look at Chloe, and she’d know.

  “You broke up with her.”

  Intuitive, but not infallible.

  “Fix it,” Janet continued briskly. “I don’t care if you have to buy her diamonds, you will do it and you will make up before the wedding, because if you ruin the seating plan, Tyler will throw a fit the likes of which you have never seen. Greg insisted they sleep apart for their last week of unmarried life, and Tyler is on the edge. The edge, Owen. The slightest thing will set him off. And trust me when I say, to Tyler, his seating plan is not the slightest thing.”