by Katie Fox
His heart beat steadily against my chest, and I focused on the way it seemed to match the rhythm of my own.
A smile curled the corners of my lips. “You’re rather good at this, Mr. Caldwell.”
Tilting his head to the side, he smirked. “I had a great teacher.” I raised a brow, and he must’ve read my questioning expression because he continued. “My mother. She used to be a professional dancer. She’d stopped once she had me but eventually started teaching classes on the side in her spare time. Her favorite was ballroom dancing, and sometimes I’d accompany her to her weeknight sessions. Dad was always busy with the firm, he hardly had time—he hardly had time for dinner most nights.” He frowned a little and pulled in a breath. “Anyway, it started off with my feet on hers in order to learn the steps, and eventually I became the one guiding her around the floor. She made me her official partner. That lasted for a while, until I reached middle school.”
“Middle school? Why middle school?”
“Turns out when you reach middle school, teaching dance lessons with your mom isn’t exactly the coolest thing to do.”
“Really?” I laughed. “Man, and to think, if you would have continued into high school you probably could’ve had all the girls.”
He flashed me that damn self-righteous smirk I loved to hate. “What makes you think I didn’t have the girls anyway?”
I said nothing, my expression blank.
It was his turn to laugh. “I’m kidding.” Bringing his face closer, he slid his nose along mine until his mouth hovered above my lips, and I fought the urge to push forward and capture his. “You’d be surprised how many girls label a boy with a book as a nerd.”
“See, that’s the difference between a girl and a woman. A woman would find it hot. Totally hot. I’m talking turn-on hot.”
The grip he had on me tightened, and his irises darkened a few shades. His gaze flicked down to my lips where it remained. “Guess I should get back to reading then.”
Something warm and heady swirled low in my stomach, something that felt much like desire. My next words came out sounding breathless and needy. “I don’t think that’s necessary.” I stared at his mouth. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to feel the softness of his lips because it had been entirely too long since the last time I had.
Kiss me, Owen. Please kiss me.
His brows narrowed, and as if he’d heard my silent plea, he lightly brushed his mouth over mine.
Once.
Twice.
I closed my eyes and parted my lips, a welcoming invitation for him to take and consume.
Only, he didn’t.
The small bubble we’d been contained in burst, and as we both took a slight step back, our attention snapped to my parents, who unbeknownst to Owen and me, had been dancing beside us.
“Oh. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You have to excuse your father and his clumsy feet.”
I smiled, my pulse rising a notch. “It’s okay, Mom. We were done anyway and were about to head back to the table.” Grabbing ahold of Owen’s jacket sleeve, I gave it a little tug, indicating that the conversation was over and we needed to go.
“Well, hold on a minute, honey. We’ve been here two hours and you’ve yet to introduce us to your guest.”
My heart took that moment to speed up in my chest, and my palms turned clammy. “I, um…” I struggled for words. When I had made the decision to bring Owen, I hadn’t thought much past my need to have him close. The fact that my parents would want a formal introduction hadn’t crossed my mind, and to be perfectly honest, I hadn’t thought they’d care. I figured they’d be too wrapped up in celebrating. Either that or drunk.
As my shitty luck would have it, they were neither.
Owen held his arm out, once again taking control of the situation like he had done the night at the restaurant, and shook both of their hands. “Owen Caldwell. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Callihan.”
“The pleasure is all ours, Owen.” Dad paused a moment, as if contemplating his next words. “Forgive me. I don’t mean to sound so straightforward, but how do you know our Elle?”
We both answered at the same time.
“We work together.”
“We’re just friends.”
Ignoring my response and focusing only on Owen’s, Mom smiled, her entire face lighting up. “Oh. You work at the magazine company. How nice—”
Owen’s head reared back. “Magazine company?” Confusion spilled across his features, and he looked at me for a mere second before laughing a little and returning his gaze to my mom. “No, not exactly. Caldwell Publishing specializes in the printing and publication of fiction and nonfiction books.”
Oh God. I’m going to be sick.
Mom glanced in my direction, her brows pinched together, and all the color drained completely from my face. “Elle, baby, we didn’t realize you weren’t with the magazine company anymore. Why didn’t you tell us? The last we heard was you got promoted to editor.”
“I, um…I—” The bile in my stomach continued to swish, and the longer I stood there, the faster it rose. If there was ever a time I’d wanted to crawl into a hole and not come out, it was right then.
Heavy and penetrative, Owen’s stare lingered on my face, and I refused to look at him. I knew what the questions forming in his head were without him even having to give them a voice.
“I'm sorry, but I really need to use the ladies’ room.”
I turned and bolted across the deck.
THE SALTY COLD water licked at my toes as it rolled in to meet the shore, and with each push and pull of the waves, my feet sank deeper into the wet sand. I stood still, my arms loosely folded over my chest and my sandals dangling from my fingers, as I stared out at the ocean, almost wishing the tide would take me with it. At least then I wouldn’t have to deal with the crushing weight of every lie I’d told over the last five years. I wouldn’t have to face the disappointment that was sure to be waiting for me in the sets of eyes that had looked at me with nothing but pride.
God, Elle. You’ve really done it this time, haven’t you?
Despite pulling in a deep breath, my lungs were empty of air, and it didn’t matter how many times I tried, I couldn’t fill them. The corners of my eyes stung with unshed tears—tears I refused to allow to fall because I had done this. This was no one's fault but my own, and I didn’t deserve to be upset over it.
A gentle breeze blew across my face, and the little hairs on the back of my neck rose. The sand absorbed the sound of his footsteps, but I didn’t need to turn around to know Owen was standing a few feet behind me. I became momentarily distracted by how aware my body was of him, how it almost ached with the need to be next to his.
“You’re right.” His voice drifted over my shoulder. “The sunset is truly something else.”
I didn’t say anything. I kept my eyes forward, blankly staring at the canvas of orange and purple. Silence, accompanied by the sound of the ocean was the only thing that filled my ears until he decided to speak again.
“So…an editor for a magazine company, huh?”
Shame reddened my cheeks. “Please don’t mock me.”
“I’m not mocking, Elle, I’m just trying to understand what happened back there. I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but before you started at Caldwell Publishing you worked at the public library. The only time you ever worked for a magazine company was six years ago, and that wasn’t even a permanent position, it was a two-month internship. So forgive me if I’m slightly confused.”
Pressing my lips together, I turned to face him. His body was arm’s length away from mine, his hands in his pockets. “Do you want to know why my dream is sitting in the bottom of a drawer?” My chin started to quiver and I hated it—hated that it was my stupid body and my stupid heart and I had no control over either of them. “Look around, Owen. This is why.”
I waved my arms in the air, gesturing at the restaurant and the pier, the ocean and the beautiful sunset
. There was a thick lump in my throat making it difficult to speak, but I swallowed around it, determined to make him finally understand.
“My father became sick three years ago. Bacterial meningitis. Thankfully the doctors figured it out in time and were able to treat it, but the insurance only covered a portion of the hospital bills, and my parents have struggled financially ever since. They are nearly six months behind on the mortgage for the restaurant, and it’s a surprise the bank hasn’t already foreclosed. I send them money every month, as much as I can afford, to try and help, but it’s still never enough. And if the bank does foreclose, then my parents will have nothing. They are good people, Owen. They would give you the shirts off their backs if you needed them, and it's not fair. Their entire lives revolve around that restaurant, and as much as I want to write, I’m not willing to risk giving all of this up because of it.” Any continued attempt to hold back my tears became futile. One after another, they slid down my cheeks until they settled on my trembling lips, and I smiled tightly. “So, there you have it. You’re staring at the cost of my dream.”
Two breaths.
Two unsteady, lung-collapsing breaths was all it took before Owen erased the distance between us and pulled me into his strong and supportive arms, burying me into his chest. He tucked my head beneath his chin, and his hand came up to stroke the back of my hair as I broke apart in his hold. My sandals dropped from my fingers, and my hands grabbed fistfuls of his dress shirt, my tears soaking through the thin material.
Embarrassment and shame flooded through me, but I couldn’t allow myself to feel anything other than Owen’s comfort. The sound of his heart beating beneath my ear and the gentle strength he held me with became my support. He kept me safe on a ground that felt like it was crumbling beneath my feet.
“Shh…” Owen pressed his lips to my forehead, one hand making tender sweeps along the length of my spine while the other continued to cradle my head against his chest. “It’s okay, Elle. It’s going to be okay. I promise you.”
He repeated the words, over and over.
And I believed him.
Standing outside of room seventeen, I held my breath as I looked up at Owen. His expression was hard to read, his eyes giving nothing away. Was he dreading this as much as I was? I didn’t want to leave him, but we hadn’t talked about “us,” and as the night continued to roll along, I wasn’t sure we were going to.
Was there even an “us” to talk about?
Would there ever be an “us”?
Unlocking the door, Owen stepped into the room and removed his jacket, setting it down on the dresser. He returned to where I still stood outside and pressed his shoulder to the wooden doorframe. “Thank you for allowing me to accompany you today. I had a wonderful time and your family is great. Sometimes I forget how important it is to have one in our lives.”
“Yeah. It is, which has me constantly questioning why you’ve cut yours off.”
Owen flinched at my bluntness, and I almost wanted to take it back, but the truth was, I had opened up to him. I let him in and I’d shared a piece of myself with him I’d never shared with anyone else. I wanted him to do the same. I wanted him to confide in me.
“Please, Elle.” He looked at me sadly. “Not tonight, okay? I don’t have it in me to go there tonight.”
Twisting my lips to the side to ward off a frown, I nodded. “Okay.”
He took hold of my chin between his thumb and forefinger, and I shivered internally at his touch. “You going to be okay driving home?”
“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I stared down at my purple painted toes. “Tomorrow night. I can pick you up and we can head to the airport together.” We hadn’t discussed it, but I didn’t want to go home without him this time.
“Sounds good.”
“Okay. Well I guess I’ll be going then.” I brought my gaze back to his, curious as to what was running through his mind. His hand lingered on my face, and as I shifted on my heels, he swept his fingers along my cheek and into my hair. His palm cupped my jaw and his thumb traced the curve of my lower lip, and despite my declaration of leaving, I remained unmoving.
Ask me to stay, Owen. Please. Tell me you don’t want me to go.
His brows narrowed as if he were considering my silent request. And then his hand left my face. Straightening himself, he stepped back into his room and took hold of the doorknob. “Good night, Elle.”
A sharp needle of disappointment pierced itself through my heart.
“Night.”
Owen pushed the door the rest of the way closed, and I turned to make the journey back to the car, a heaviness in my stomach weighing my steps.
I made it five feet and stopped. I needed to know. I needed to know if I was wanting the impossible with him. As I turned around to head back to his room, the door reopened. Owen stood there, a look of complete and utter defeat clouding his handsome face.
“Owen?”
“Elle.”
There was a desperation in his tone, one that had my heart slamming fiercely against my ribs. My legs quickly ate up the distance between us, and the second I was within arm’s reach, he took hold of my face, pulling me the rest of the way to him.
His lips crushed down on mine.
I’d almost forgotten the taste of him, the way it affected me—I was lost for a moment, drowning in sensation. Owen took a step back into the room, dragging me with him, and as he continued his hungry assault on my mouth—kissing me with a fervor I had yet to witness from him—he kicked the door shut with his foot.
I suddenly found myself pressed against it, his strong frame pinning me in the most delicious way, and I tilted my head back an inch or two, allowing him to deepen our kiss. His tongue danced with mine, stroking the fire building low in my stomach, and I gasped at how badly I needed him.
Oh God. I needed him.
My nipples tightened against the lace of my bra, and my knees weakened. Owen’s hands roamed my body like he didn’t know where he wanted to touch first, and the feel of his rough palm as it slid down to my thigh, lifting my leg and guiding it around him so he could press his erection against my softness, caused heat to roar through me. I moaned into his mouth, and his grip tightened, almost painfully, but I didn’t want him to stop.
I wanted this.
I wanted him so damn much.
As I rocked my hips forward, grinding against the firmness of his arousal, a deep growl erupted from the depths of his throat. He slammed his free hand against the door, curling his fingers into a fist, and tore his lips away from mine. “Fuck, Elle.” He looked at me through half-lidded eyes, his chest heaving and his lungs breathless—desire thick in his tone. “Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to resist you? How bad I want you? How bad I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you?”
Lust shot through my veins at his words, and grabbing hold of the collar of his shirt, I dragged his mouth back to mine. “Stop resisting then.” My tongue darted across his lips, teasing and coaxing his to come out and play, and that was all the enticement he needed. His hands took hold of my thighs, lifting me effortlessly against him, and as he walked us over to the bed, I circled my legs around his waist. My hands slid up his neck, my fingers threading and curling through the soft brown strands of hair at his nape. Our lips continued to move against each other’s as if our lives depended on it—as if our kiss were creating the beats of our hearts.
Supporting me with one arm, Owen lowered the zipper on my dress, and a rush of cool air spread across my heated skin and a layer of goose bumps formed. The gown slid off my chest where it rested in a pool around my stomach, and Owen laid me gently on the mattress, quickly freeing it in its entirety. His hands glided down my thighs, and as he removed my heels from my feet, he laid a passionate trail of kisses along my jaw and across my collarbone.
My back arched at the hot feel of his mouth—the way his lips seared my skin and the licks of his tongue as he created a path of fire over the swells o
f my breasts and down to where my nipples were hard and waiting—and he took advantage of the opportunity, sliding his hand between me and the mattress so he could unclasp my bra. He tugged it free and away from my body, and there was no hesitation.
A sharp gasp floated from my chest as he covered my breast with his warm mouth, his tongue swirling around its hardened tip. He showed both equal attention, and an intense ache built between my thighs. I needed him there, whether it be his fingers or his mouth or him, I needed him to touch me there.
As if he knew my body better than he knew his own, he worked his hands back up my legs, smoothing them under my calves and then over the inside of my thighs. He swept a thumb down my center and the wetness that had gathered, and my hips gravitated toward his touch, eager and desperate for more.
Owen heard my silent plea.
Wasting no more time, he hooked his fingers under the thin strings hugging my hips and removed the delicate lace that quickly joined the growing pile of clothing on the floor. He brushed his fingertips lightly up the inside of my thighs, trailing them even slower over my hips and then back to my center before finally sweeping them through the wetness and up to my throbbing clit, his thumb circling with the right amount of pressure.
An involuntary whimper escaped me, and Owen swallowed the sound, his tongue sliding back into my mouth at the same time he slid a thick finger inside me.
“Jesus, Elle.” He spoke through a clenched jaw. “You’re so tight. So warm. So fucking beautiful...”
My eyes fluttered closed, his words alone sending a wave of pleasure to spiral right into my core. I gingerly pressed my hands to his chest, my fingers remembering the dips and curves of his muscles from the last time they made contact, and I pushed up on my elbows, kissing his neck as he continued to fuck me with his fingers. The stubble covering his jaw prickled the sensitive flesh of my mouth, but I savored the feel of it, savored the burn.