He shakes his head. "That's not what I'm saying." I'm about to ask what when he answers for me. "I don't know what the fuck I'm saying."
"I'm not trying to stroke my own ego or anything, but I think your mother has a good sense for people. You know…whether they're genuine or not."
"You know she hates your mom, right?"
I raise one eyebrow, as if to say, are you kidding me? "My point taken." I dip my head down in sadness. "I only wish I had your mother as my mom."
Owen scoots closer to me, a smirk on his face. "That would mean," he whispers, "what I did to you last night would have been sicker than it already is."
Fire dances in his eyes, and it makes my legs clench. "Forbidden fruit?" I whisper, my voice laced in desire. I’ve gone from bewildered to turned on within a nano second.
A hand is quickly on my knee, rising farther and farther toward my heated pussy. "Say that again," he growls. When he reaches my pussy and pushes a finger inside my panties, I jump, my eyes immediately looking toward Brandon driving. "He can't see what I'm doing to you. Relax." His hot breath tickles my ear and I close my eyes when his finger slides easily inside my wetness, coating his finger. He pulls it out, quickly finding my clit and commencing slow circles over my hardened nub.
"I could easily slip my cock inside your tight cunt, you’re so wet.”
Without meaning to, I moan. My eyes fling open to see if Brandon heard me, but as far as I can tell, his eyes are locked on the road still. Maybe he does hear me, but is choosing to ignore it. Either way, the thought of it both excites and scares me. For someone married to my mother, Owen is taking a huge risk.
He adds pressure to my clit, and my body jerks in response. My face heats and legs tremble.
"I love watching you come. And I love knowing it's me who's doing it. Fuck, you're beautiful, Savannah."
My breathing ragged, Owen picks up the pace, adding more pressure with his finger. One hand flies to his knee, the other to passenger door. I grip both tightly, my eyes clamped shut, mouth parted. I try my hardest to keep in the wretched noise that wants to explode from me, but fuck is he making this as difficult as possible.
"My cock's so hard for you. It wants to fuck you so badly."
I detonate, my breaths so ragged, I can't help the little whimper that leaves my lips.
"Are you okay, Miss Savannah?" Brandon asks from the front.
Eyes flinging open, I snap my head to Owen, who's looking as smug as a Cheshire cat. “Yes…I'm fine…Brandon. Thank you for asking."
"Savannah was a little preoccupied, and I think I frightened her when I called her name." Owen still smirks as he moves slightly away from me, taking a less intimate seat.
My cheeks still flushed from my orgasm, I spot Brandon flitting his eyes at me, and his face suddenly lights up with a smile. When he sets his eyes back on the road again, I turn to Owen, giving him a death stare. All he does is laugh. The natural reaction to smile back becomes all too much, and soon, I'm finding myself giggling along with him.
Today's going to be a good day.
I can feel it.
Secrets
One Republic
Present
"Don't forget, whatever plans you have, be back no later than eleven. I want us all together for midnight."
It's New Year's Eve, the sun is shining brightly, and I'm sitting at the dining table with my mom, Owen, and Ethan. We never sit together to eat like this, but since Ethan's arrival, my mother insists. I would normally hate it, but I must admit, I find the furtive, appreciative looks she passes Ethan rather entertaining.
"What are your plans today?" Ethan asks, looking my way.
"I have some girly appointments this morning, but will be back by late afternoon."
I swear I spot a dimple on Ethan’s cheek when he smiles. I never noticed it before. "Cool, I guess a riding lesson for me isn't out of the question later?"
I take a sip of my juice before setting it down. "You want a riding lesson from me?"
He shrugs. "Sure, why not?"
I bite my lip, grinning. "Okay. You're on."
Oblivious at first, I glance a look at my mom and Owen, finding them both staring at us, annoyance written across Owen’s face, and slight intrigue on Mom's.
"I need to collect some fireworks for the party tonight. Ethan, maybe you can help me with that?" My mom flutters her eyelashes at him, and I have to hide my mouth so I don't let a giggle escape.
A slight reluctance surfaces in his eyes, but in true form, Ethan smiles and says, "Of course. It would be my pleasure."
My mom’s face lights up like she's the cat that got the cream. Owen, momentarily forgetting he's annoyed, shakes his head a little. It's so slight, my mom and Ethan don't see it.
But I do.
"I'm going to do some work."
"Oh, Owen, you're always working. It's New Year's Eve. For God's sake, give it a rest for one day."
Owen rises from his chair, throwing the napkin down on the table, and with a sneer toward my mother, he says, "If I don't work, dear, then you don't get to go shopping every Saturday and buy all those expensive gifts.” He pushes the chair in so forcefully, it scrapes across the floor. “Now, if you’ll excuse me." He pivots to walk away, but not before giving me a stare that makes me think I'm in big trouble whenever he gets a chance to get me alone.
My mom, sitting up a little in her seat, clasps her hands. "Well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning." She reaches out, grabbing Ethan's arm. "I'm glad I'll have you for company."
Feeling nauseated, I take that as my cue to go. "I'm going to take off. See you later. Have fun."
"Oh, I'm sure we will," my mother purrs.
I walk away, but glance back to find Ethan staring at me with a pleading look in his eyes. I throw my head back and laugh as I make my way toward my room. I gather my bag and phone before walking out the front entrance in search for Brandon. When I find him, he's cleaning one of the many cars in the garage. He senses me and glances up.
"Miss Savannah, are you in need of a ride somewhere."
Slinging my handbag over my shoulder, I smile. "I am."
"Is it to the place you don't like to talk about out loud?"
I laugh, but nod. "How did you guess?"
"You have that same look you always have before I take you there. Like you're up to no good."
I fake frown. "I'd be a shit poker player then."
Brandon laughs loudly before setting his cloth down and walking toward the passenger door. "I wouldn't advise it, miss." He opens the car door, motioning for me to get in. I say my thanks and watch as he runs around the other side.
I sigh as he gets in and starts the car. "I miss driving."
Brandon looks at me in the rearview mirror. "You don't like being driven everywhere?"
He backs out of the garage and does a three-point turn before driving toward the gates. "I like it on occasion, but sometimes, it would be nice to just get in a car and drive somewhere—feel the pedals under my feet…"
"And the wind in your hair."
I let out a small laugh. "Yeah, something like that."
"Why don't you ask Mr. Montgomery if you can take one of his cars? I'm sure he wouldn't mind."
My eyes widen. "Are you crazy? I'd be too damn scared to drive any one of those cars. They're each worth more than a lifetime salary for some."
A rumble of laughter from Brandon causes me to smile. "Point taken, but I still think he wouldn't mind."
"How long have you been driving for Owen?" I ask, changing the subject.
"Around ten years."
"That's a long time."
"It is, but I enjoy the job. The wages are good, and Mr. Montgomery is always fair."
"Except when he makes you work on New Year's Eve."
"I don't mind it. It's a choice for me anyway. I didn't have to work today, it's just Mr. Montgomery knew you would all be busy this morning, so asked me to work until five. Or at least until everyone i
s at home."
"Well, I promise I will be back well before five."
"Please, Ms. Savannah. Do not rush on my behalf. I didn't say it because—"
"I know you didn't," I reply, interrupting him. "There's only one place I want to visit today, and I won't be long. I think I will be ready by three at the latest."
"Whatever time it is, let me know."
I gaze his way, and return his smile. He flits his eyes back to the road, and I stare out, silently watching the world go by. Considering we're on a country road, not much is happening. A few cars drive slowly by, the occasional crow squawks high above in the trees, and the lasting frost of the cold morning begins to melt under the slight warmth of the sun. Today is a good day. Tomorrow, they are forecasting a temperature drop so vast, by morning, we'll have snow.
"We have arrived, Ms. Savannah."
Snapping my head up to look, the car approaches the little white, colonial house with the huge porch outside I've often enjoyed many a days and nights on, rocking in a chair.
Brandon drives up to the entrance of the house, immediately getting out of the car to let me out. I smile, placing one leg out, followed by the other.
"Thank you, Brandon."
"You're welcome, Ms. Savannah."
"There you are!" The sound of her voice has me joyous before I even turn around.
Brandon tips his hat. "Let me know when to pick you up. Have a good day."
I say my thanks, turning to the sound of her voice, finding her looking as healthy as ever. Since Patricia's heart attack, she started to look very tired, but over the months, the light has been slowly flickering on. I remained concerned up until that point.
Brandon drives away, and I approach Patricia, giving her a hug. "It's so nice to see you. How have you been feeling?"
She pulls away, but keeps her hands on my elbows. "I've been feeling rather marvelous lately, I must say. Like a new lease on life. How have you been?" She sweeps her eyes over me. "As beautiful as ever, I see. It's any wonder how you're still single."
I get that a lot whenever I visit, but I think Patricia knows the score. She has never asked about Owen and I, but to say she doesn't suspect would be silly. She's a lot savvier than anyone gives her credit for.
I reach into my bag, pulling out the tea she really likes, but finds hard to get. "I got these for you yesterday."
She squeezes my elbows. "I was getting close to running out. Come…let's go have some, shall we?"
I nod, and she leads the way inside the cozy house. Patricia's home is a close second to the lake house as a favorite of mine. I always feel more at home here than I do back at the house. I guess a lot of the reason has something to do with the fact that my mom lives there.
As soon as we're in the hallway, I set my bag down and follow Patricia into the kitchen. There, I help her set up the usual tea and cookies we share. It's our guilty pleasure. We only have one or two, and only have them together, so this becomes a real treat for us. It helps that her cookies are absolutely phenomenal.
"How has Owen been?" she asks as I reach into the Tupperware and pull out four cookies.
"He's been…okay, I guess." I close the lid and when I don't hear anything, I turn to find her staring at me.
"Has something happened? Is he all right?"
I walk toward her, laying my hands out. "No, he's fine. Everything's fine. It's just…well, we're not exactly on speaking terms at the moment. Sorry to be disrespectful, but your son is being an ass."
She chuckles under her breath, a slight glint in her eye. "Nothing changes there then." She walks back and starts pouring the tea. "Whatever he's done, don't let him get away with it."
"Oh, believe me. I'm not."
"That's my girl."
I may be acting strong now, but I also know the moment Owen touches me, all that hardened talk will fly right out the window.
And what does that make me?
Weak.
God, I hate that word, but no matter how much I don't want it to be true, it is.
Grabbing the plate, and Patricia the tea, we walk into her living room and sit down. I peruse all the photographs on her mantle of all the different ages of Owen. No matter how many times I see them, I still can't help but look. Many are of him through his different stages in elementary, but there are also a lot of him as a quarterback in high school. It's those I focus on the most. His bulky, tall frame, tousled brown hair, and light green eyes make my thighs clench with need.
The moment Patricia stops pouring the tea, I snap my head away from the photographs. I don't want her to witness what my eyes will no doubt give away.
Something dawns on me, and I glance back at the photos and frown. "May I ask you a personal question?"
"Of course," Patricia replies, handing me my tea.
"Owen never speaks of his father, and I don't see any pictures of them together. Is there a reason for that?”
Patricia sighs, making me turn my head toward her. She takes a small sip of her tea, setting it down on the table in front of her. "Owen's father was unfortunately a ruthless man. He used to beat me, and Owen had to witness a lot of it. Once he started to get older, he would try to intervene, which only resulted in Owen getting beaten too. I would try to protect him as much as I could, and all I wanted was to escape, but things were different back then. Owen’s father, like Owen, was a very powerful man. My escape was impossible. However, as he grew older, and stronger, Owen started to fight back and it made an impact. It got to a stage where Kenneth would fall from the force of Owen's punches, so the violence eventually petered out. Kenneth was diagnosed with cancer when Owen was eighteen, and died a year later."
Stunned is the only word I can use to describe my emotion. In all the months I have known Owen, I never pictured him as this vulnerable boy who used to get beaten while trying to protect his mother. The secretive man he is, I can't help but wonder if this is why. In front of me and all others around him, he’s this strong, independent, alpha male, set on conquering the world, when really he holds such a dark past, it's no wonder he doesn't let anyone in.
"Oh God, Patricia, I'm so sorry. You both must have been terrified."
She clutches something in her hand, and I frown. Rosary beads. I had no idea Patricia was religious, or that she was holding them.
"It's the guilt I feel more than the memories of the abuse. I would live that all over again if I didn't feel so ashamed of myself. I was his mother—someone who's supposed to protect and nurture their child, not throw them into the lion’s den."
I set my cup down on the small table and place my hand over the one she's clutching the rosary beads in. "You had no other choice. How can you blame yourself for that? I'm one hundred percent sure Owen doesn't. He worships the ground you walk on."
I take my hand away, noticing a slight watering in her eyes. I hate seeing her suffering like this. I can understand her heavy burden, but Owen would feel absolutely distraught at the knowledge of his mother's anguish.
"You're a kind child, Savannah, but only I can answer to my own guilt. I don't want Owen to find out anything about this."
"I won't say a word, but I think he needs to know. I'm sure if you told him…"
"No, Owen has enough of his own demons. He certainly doesn't need the weight of mine."
Closing my eyes, a great sadness washes over me…for them both. I never thought this would come to mind when thinking of Owen. It makes me understand him that much more, and offers insight into the reason why he targeted Terry in such a final way.
"Anyway," Patricia begins, taking a deep breath, "you didn't come here to discuss our family history. You came here to discuss our current family situation."
"And to visit you," I say, curving up my lips.
"Of course." She nods, returning my smile. She leans over, retrieving a big brown envelope from the floor. She pulls out its contents, spreading some of them on the table. They're of my mother, scantily dressed, as a man I do not recognize kisses the side of h
er neck. The shot, taken from outside a window, leaves no room for explanation.
"There's more, but I know for a fact you're not going to want to see them."
I raise one eyebrow, sliding back into my seat. "No, not really." I sigh. "Her infidelity is no new thing. Owen is acutely aware and doesn't care. The good news is these could certainly be used in grounds for divorce, but something tells me that's not going to happen. Something tells me she has something over Owen. I just have no clue what."
"I hate that he's trapped like this. If only we knew why, then we could help."
Rubbing my temple, the stress eats away at me. "Asking Owen won't get us anywhere."
Patricia lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Oh, believe me, I know. Owen's so independent, it borders on obstinacy." A slight giggle leaves me, and Patricia smiles. "I love my boy, but I could also flick his ear at times."
"I would love to see that!" I shout, laughing harder this time.
When we calm, I sit wondering what it is we could do. I start to think about my mom and Owen, about their romantic, rainy, Monday morning meeting.
"Maybe we're going about this all wrong." I purse my lips, thinking about it more.
"What do you mean?"
"I think we need to go back to the beginning—to when Owen and my mom met. She used to scout charity events and balls, looking for eligible bachelors. If we can retrace their steps to the day they met, and what happened after, maybe we can find out why Owen married her."
Patricia's eyes light up, a noticeable gleam shining in them. "That's a fantastic idea! I will get Grant, my PI, on it. I'm sure he will be able to find something. I don't know if it will be the answer we're looking for, but maybe—just maybe—it will lead us there."
I nod in agreement. "Owen keeps a planner in his office. Let me get copies of all the entries for around the time they met, and maybe your PI can take it from there."
Patricia makes a triumphant fist. "Yes, let's!" She slinks back in her seat like the weight of the world has just been released from her shoulders. "I feel better already."
I stretch forward, picking up my tea. "I'm glad."
"Well," Patricia says, letting out a breath again, "now that we have that out of the way, why don't you tell me how things have been with you these last couple weeks."
Forbidden Desires Page 14