by Reina Torres
If he didn’t need to get her home so badly, he might have had a little laugh at her antics but standing out in the parking lot wasn’t a good idea. She was feisty enough to head on back inside and take another crack at the asshole.
He would, later on, once he found out who it was that had put his hands on her, but not at that moment. Not when he needed to get her safely home.
So, he fixed his gaze on her body and realized he was about to dive headfirst into hell. Her dress was almost a shirt in some ways. Buttoned down the front and with pockets. Pockets over her breasts, pockets at her sides.
He was pretty sure the pockets up top were empty. The way her shirt skimmed over her breasts said there wasn’t anything inside unless it was thin, like a piece of paper or something like that. That left her pockets near her hips.
Reaching out, he set his hands on her hip and gave them a gentle pat.
“Hey,” she tried to move away from one hand but pushed into the other. “Whoa.” Then pushed back in the other direction. Trying to keep her still, he splayed his hands at her waist and remembered only too late that Blyss was ticklish.
The laughter that rang in his ears was pure joy. Well, maybe eighty proof joy, but still, it managed to take the edge off his frustration. And even when she flinched and wiggled against the side of her car, he managed to fish her keys out of one of her pockets and avoid her getting her hands into his pockets. Blyss was turning out to be very touchy-feely.
If she’d been sober, that would have been something entirely different, but at the moment, he needed to get her home and into bed.
Sadly, alone.
Putting her into the passenger seat and buckling her in, with her hands all over his chest and arms, was like purgatory. By the time he got himself into the driver’s seat he was wondering what sin he’d committed that had been heinous enough for him to be tested like this. The last thing he needed was to commit it again. He didn’t think he could handle much more of this.
Owen came to a conclusion less than an hour later that he’d somehow not just broken some rule, or committed an ordinary sin. No, whatever he’d done had brought down the righteous anger of the Almighty.
If he thought getting Blyss out of a party when she was drunk was difficult.
That was nothing compared to getting her settled at her apartment.
As soon as she took a single breath of home, all hell broke loose.
She kicked off her shoes and almost walked right into the edge of the couch. Stepping up behind her, Owen put one hand on her waist and the other on her shoulder. All it took was a single look around the room to figure it out and point her in the direction of what must be her bedroom.
As soon as he got her past the open doorway, he realized he was in for it.
“I don’t recall inviting you into my bedroom, Owen.”
She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing her body flush with his.
She felt like heaven. Blyss might be all business when she was at work, but in her dress and barefoot, rubbing her body against his, she was temptation incarnate.
“Well, I guess, since you’re here, we might as well have a little fun.”
Blyss leaned in for a kiss and missed his mouth by half an inch. “Stop moving.”
She gave it another try and this time she got close enough to rub her upper lip against his bottom.
Sure, he knew she was drunk, but that didn’t mean that his body understood why she was rubbing her hips against his thigh. His cock was ready for action and that was why he reached up and took her hands in his, so he could walk her to the bed.
Laughing she tried to pull him down with her, but he shook his head. “No, ma’am. Not tonight.” He looked around the tiny bedroom and saw a few places where she might have stored her clothes. “Where do you keep your nighties, Blyss?”
Her laughter sounded deep and smoky, like whiskey, and when she bit her teeth into her lower lip, he bit the inside of his cheek to get some semblance of control.
“You want me to wear something pretty for you?” She started on the buttons down the front of her dress. “I can do that.”
“Sugar, I want to get you in bed.”
She laughed and almost stumbled, but he held her up. “I want you in bed too.”
“No. You need some sleep. And I want to tuck you in, so I know you’re safe. Where do I find your sleep clothes?”
She wavered a little, and then her eyes cleared up for one moment. And in those clear eyes he saw his doom.
“I don’t wear anything to sleep.” It took most of his concentration to keep his mouth closed.
As he stood there, his hands on her upper arms, trying to keep her vertical, she undid the buttons down the front of her dress. She wasn’t trying to seduce him. No, as far as he could tell she was struggling to manage the simple act of working her buttons free.
He helped her untie the belt at her waist, and then she continued on. He had to let go to help her push the dress back and off her shoulders, sitting her down on the edge of the bed to get her dress off her legs.
Owen drew the line when she reached for the waistband of her panties, pulling down the blanket and sheet so she could slip under. The pout on her lips was a monumental turn on as was her whispered invitation. “There’s room if you want to stay.”
Her voice was pitched a good deal lower than normal and he kept his gaze away from hers, struggling with his conscience.
“I thought you wanted me.”
The waver in her voice almost pushed him over the line.
When he looked up, she had her hands on the front clasp of her bra.
He grabbed them and brought them to his mouth before she could undo the clasp, preserving what tiny measure of control he had left. Owen kept his eyes on hers as he pressed kisses to her fingertips.
“Mon rêve,” he could look into her eyes forever, but he needed to put some physical distance between them, “I want you more than my next breath, but you are more than drunk. I won’t take advantage.”
“But I want-”
“Later. When you’re in control of yourself.” He was being such a good boy. He deserved a break from this torture, right?
“What if…” She drew one hand out of his and lay back against her pillow. With his eyes fixed on that hand, she let it fall against her chest, her fingers against the lace trim at the top of her bra. “When I’m in control of myself,” she smiled at him, her eyelids lowering to half-mast, “I want you to take control.”
She was drunk. Completely, in her cups, drunk. There was no way his Blyss would say that to him. She just wouldn’t.
“And now,” he announced to the room, “is when I go and get you some water and some pain pills.”
He moved into the bathroom and found both easily. While she had a few outfits tossed over the chair in the corner of the bedroom, her bathroom was tidier. Probably because she didn’t use makeup. As he filled the cup halfway full, he couldn’t help but smile. She’d tried on a few outfits before going to the party.
After pushing him away for so long, Blyss certainly had done a complete one eighty. And now she was innocently trying to kill him.
Dead.
Six feet under and buried.
Laughing at the old adage of ‘Careful what you wish for,’ he left the bathroom and set down the pills and the glass on her nightstand.
“Take these when you wake up, okay?”
“It would serve you right if I didn’t.” She tried to glare at him, but it only made her look confused. He didn’t think she’d ignore the suggestion, but then again, he’d never seen Blyss drink much, let along get sloshing drunk.
“Good night, mon rêve. Sleep tight, hmm?”
He hadn’t made it more than a step from her bedroom door when he heard a drawer slide open. Instead of closing the bedroom door the whole way, he left it ajar, just enough that he could hear if she fell out of bed.
The lights were still low, like they had been when they’d walked i
n. Only a small security light was on in the kitchen area of the main room and as he stepped over to the couch, the light made sure that he didn’t crack his shins on the coffee table.
Owen lowered himself onto the couch and heard a creak. He held still as he tried to figure out where the noise had come from. When the noise didn’t repeat, he shifted on the cushion and heard the sound again. It was probably a sleeper sofa with hinges that needed a little WD-40.
Finally seated comfortably, he wondered exactly how silly he was being.
He’d gotten Blyss home safe, but was he really planning on sleeping the rest of the night on her sofa?
The real question was if he could stop himself from worrying about her if he left.
And that answer was no. Staying, he told himself, was the only way he could make sure that she was safe, and in the morning, he’d make sure that she did what she needed to if she was suffering any pain from what she drank at the party.
Turning to adjust the little pillow that was halfway under his back, Owen toed off one shoe and then the other.
He took his phone out of his jeans pocket and sent a text to his father to let him know he’d be back in time for the afternoon feeding at the rescue. He set his phone down on the arm of the sofa.
This wasn’t how he’d wanted the night to end. He hadn’t even gone as far as thinking he’d get a kiss when he brought her back and said good-bye at her door. Having to fend off her advances?
What a fucking nightmare.
Since when had he become so circumspect about women?
Because it was this woman.
Blyss.
The wide-eyed, gentle soul from high school had become a formidable woman. One who carried a badge and gun with equal ease because she knew what her job meant to her. What it meant to the people of their community.
She wasn’t just beautiful in his eyes, he respected her.
And one drunken night hadn’t changed that view at all.
In fact, he’d seen a giddy and playful side of her that he hadn’t anticipated. If he could find that heady combination in her when she was sober?
Well, he’d just have to reform himself right into a tux at the altar, because Blyss Hardy was already an amazing woman. If she really did want him as much as he wanted her, he wasn’t going to wait around for her to change her mind.
With a soft groan he sank lower into the sofa, trying to find a comfortable position.
Ha. If he’d really wanted comfort, he could be sleeping in the bed, with Blyss.
But then, he reminded himself, he’d have to contend with her hands all over him.
Just the thought had him hard and letting out a slow breath. He willed his dick to give him a break. Just a little favor.
A soft sound reached his ears from the other room. Holding still, he trained his ears on the crack in the door. If there was something wrong, he was there to help.
Another sound, clearer this time.
A moan.
His stomach clenched, and he worried that maybe she’d made herself sick.
If it happened again, he’d go and check on her.
But the room fell silent again and his shoulders sagged in relief.
Another minute passed, and he laid his head down on the back of the sofa and let his eyes drift closed.
“Oh…”
Okay, he heard that.
It didn’t sound like she was in pain.
He heard a hitch in her breath as if she was just a few feet away instead of the other room.
And then a moan. A soft exhale of breath that sounded like… his name.
His heart kicked hard in his chest and even the rush of blood in his ears couldn’t cover over the next sounds that he heard.
“Oh…wen, yes.”
She was going to kill him.
The last few brain cells that were still alive and firing told him that he was right. Those sounds, the soft breaths that reached his ears, painted a disturbingly hot picture in his head.
His Blyss. Gorgeous, fierce, and gentle Blyss was pleasuring herself. Thinking of him.
He wanted to go back in there and see it for himself, but no. There was no way he’d manage to go in there and not want to join in.
Owen had left her in her underwear, but she’d told him she didn’t sleep with anything on, so that image was in full technicolor in his head. And her soft gasping moans… like vibrant THX stereo.
A soft grunt reached his ears and his dick twitched inside of his jeans. Planting his feet wider on the floor, he reached down to adjust himself to take off some of the edge and pain that he felt.
“Baby,” he ground out his words through clenched teeth, “have pity on me.”
“That feels so… good.”
He’d lost all ability to breathe.
The air had been sucked out of his lungs, leaving him a little lightheaded.
“I want to touch you too.”
Oh shit.
“Please, Owen.”
Okay, maybe she was still drunk, but he had his head screwed on straight. His dick though? It had a mind of its own.
And he knew there was no way he was going to get to sleep with a monster hard on in his jeans.
Slouching down on the couch, his feet planted firmly on the ground, he flicked open the button at the waist of his jeans and pulled in a breath as he tugged on the zipper.
The sweet sound that reached his ears was the rasp of the metal zipper as it opened. Before he could get lost in the heady sensations, he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxer briefs and pushed them and his jeans down until they were just an inch or two down his thighs.
“Yes…” the feel of the cool air in her apartment was like a soft gentle rush of air. Before he could decide against it, he heard another gasp from the bedroom and his hand closed around the base of his cock, squeezing tight for a moment to take off the edge. The way he felt after having Blyss coming onto him, watching her innocent seduction as she tried to get him to share her bed, he was ready to blow at the slightest provocation.
But with the sounds she was making in the other room it was going to be another few minutes for her, and he didn’t want to miss the show.
He swore he could almost hear her slip her fingers between her legs.
And as he watched her in his head, she drew her knees up under the sheets and laid her head back against her pillows.
Something touched his thumb and he lifted his head to look down. A silvering drop of precum sat shimmering against his skin. He was so hungry for her, he was weeping with need.
Twisting his hand, he wiped it off his thumb onto the length of his cock. It wasn’t going to be enough to get the job done, but it was enough to start.
As he listened to Blyss in the other room, he matched his movements to the sounds of her pleasure. It felt like a rollercoaster ride in the dark. Without being able to see her and anticipate her movements in the other room his pace was ragged, and the little tugs of pain along his shaft was worth it to feel as if he was there, riding the wave with her.
Soft keening cries reached him, and he felt a magnetic pull between them. Huffing breath after breath, he worked open a few buttons at the bottom of his shirt, shoving the fabric aside. Then he pushed his undershirt up, baring his abdomen to the air inside her apartment.
“Owen! It’s too much!”
“Fuck, baby. Don’t stop. Don’t- don’t- “
Her wordless cry sent him over the edge and long ropes of cum painted his skin, leaving him shaking from the sudden force of his release. He couldn’t seem to stop his hand, imagining his fingers deep inside her body, needing any connection he could get because this wasn’t how he wanted things to be between them.
Shrugging out of his shirt, he used the tail of it to wipe off his skin. He balled it up when he was finished and dropped it down on his shoes. Even with the release he’d had, he was still keyed up. It was going to be a long time before he’d get to sleep, but the important thing was that he was nearby in cas
e she needed him.
The truth was, he needed her too.
The next time he let loose, the next time he felt his heart and body burst like that, it was going to be with him buried deep inside of the woman he loved.
Chapter 6
Mornings weren’t her thing. There were half a dozen clocks all over her little bedroom that she would set depending on how late she was going to sleep, how tired she was, or how important it was that she get up at a certain time.
That didn’t include her cellphone, or her tablet.
Yeah, mornings.
No, thanks.
And this morning wasn’t any better.
There were no alarms screaming at her, but the way her head was half-buried in her pillow with a yucky wet spot under her cheek made it too easy to get up and sit on the edge of her bed.
Squinting at the clock she saw that it was surprisingly early. And if the little digital calendar on the right side of the display was right, it was her day off.
That rush of relief gave her a moment of peace until she saw the handwritten note in front of the clock.
TAKE ME.
And on the paper were two pain pills.
Next to it was a glass of water.
Reaching out, she touched her fingers to the glass and found it chilled.
Relief flooded out of her body and a decent measure of uncertainty rushed in after it.
Someone had left her the pills.
Someone who had been in her bedroom recently.
Turning around, she felt like she’d slammed her head into a wall. She recognized the feeling even though it wasn’t all that familiar to her.
Hangover.
Turning on the bed she looked at the other pillow and the blankets. The blankets were tossed back which was something she normally did, but the pillow hadn’t been touched.
“Oh my-”
She set her palms against her chest and let out a sigh. She was wearing her underwear. That was good.
Right?
Reaching out, she took the pills and swallowed them with the glass of water on the nightstand.
Okay. Now, she just had to figure out what had happened. She wasn’t someone who normally got drunk, but even when she did, she was with friends. And last night…