“Oh, shit,” I moan, weaving my fingers into his hair and holding his mouth against my neck where he’s busy kissing, licking, and nibbling. Both of my legs begin to quiver as his fingers move with intent and experience, swirling around my clit with just the right pressure before gliding back and circling his destination. At an agonizingly slow pace, he eases them into me.
“Oh, god, Owen,” I pant toward the ceiling. My toes curl and my arms tingle before going numb as he plunges his long fingers in and out of me.
Owen raises his face from the crook of my neck and pulls my earlobe into his mouth for a second. “Come for me, Amelia.” His gruff request makes my stomach quiver and tighten as he works me right to the brink of release before his fingers curl toward my lower abdomen and push me over.
“Yes…” I whimper, feeling every muscle in my body contract around Owen’s dexterous fingers. “Just like that… Yes…yes… Yes!”
As I come down from the high of my orgasm, Owen eases my leg from the edge of the tub and kisses me passionately. My brain is still muddled as I try to wade through the fog of ecstasy, but I sense the gratitude behind his kiss, and I return it tenfold.
When the water starts to run cold, shocking us both, I hop out of the shower and grab my towel while Owen still has to quickly rinse off. Poor bastard. I get his towel ready and hand it to him the second he pulls the shower curtain back, and he wraps it around his waist before following me back out into the apartment.
While I sift through my closet, Owen digs through the small duffle bag he’d packed when leaving Gretchen, grumbling as he goes through shirt after shirt.
“There’s a laundry room down the hall,” I suggest. “Or there’s a Laundromat around the corner. I prefer the Laundromat, though, because I don’t trust the creepy guy next door enough to leave my laundry alone.” I wish I could say I was kidding, but I’ve had several bra and panty sets go missing, and the dude likes to leer.
After quickly dressing, Owen heads to the kitchen while I stuff my books into my backpack, and just as I’m zipping it up, my phone vibrates on my nightstand. I pick it up to see it’s Liz, so I answer it, keeping my voice down in hopes that Owen won’t think I’m talking to him and try to respond. “Hey, Liz.”
“Hi!” she replies happily. “How are you feeling?”
I’m confused for a brief moment until I remember I told her I wasn’t feeling well to keep the true reason for my sullen behavior from her. “Oh, much better. Totally slept it off.”
“Oh, good! You want me to come pick you u—”
“Amelia?” Owen calls from the kitchen, making my body stiffen in fear of us being found out by my best friend. “You don’t have much for breakfast food—did you want some toast?”
I pray she hasn’t heard him—that he wasn’t as loud as I thought he was—but I’m just not that damn lucky, and I don’t get a chance to react before I hear Liz in my ear. “Who…the fuck…is that?” My heart begins to pound rapidly, and my eyes widen as I try to think fast. “Amelia Rose Michaels!” she squeals into my ear. “Do you have a man in your apartment?”
“Y-yes?”
“Oh my god! Tell me everything!”
There’s no way I can tell her everything, so I try to get rid of her instead. “Sorry, Liz. I gotta go. I’ll see you in about thirty?”
“Amy…I’m your best fr—”
“Okay,” I sing into the phone, pulling it from my ear slowly. “See you soon!” And I hang up before she gets the chance to ask again. I know I’m not going to escape her interrogation forever, but I’ve at least bought myself thirty minutes to figure out a way to stretch the truth and omit a few facts.
When I walk the twenty feet to my kitchen, I eye Owen. “Well, I’ve got to think of something to tell Liz now,” I announce, flopping into one of the stools at the island counter separating my kitchen from my living room. Owen looks confused, so I hold up my phone. “She called and heard you talking about breakfast.”
“Fuck,” he mumbles, running his hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were even on the phone.”
I shake my head. “It’s okay. I don’t know what I’ll tell her, but I don’t think she’ll recognize your voice or anything.” I lean on the counter and peer over at what he’s doing. “Whatcha got going on over there, handsome?” I ask.
Owen laughs, lifting a plate with two pieces of peanut butter covered toast. “Breakfast. I’d hoped to do a little more, but all you had was bread and a cupboard full of ramen noodles. You really should go grocery shopping.”