Just a Number(39)
The act catches me completely off guard, and my heart pounds with excitement at having unleashed this side of him as he props me up and pushes back into me. I cry out at the strength behind his movements, and his hands move up my body, one ensnaring my hip while the other grips the top of my shoulder for leverage. His fingers press into the side of my neck as he continues to move behind me, our collective moans and groans and cries of ecstasy mounting until they drown out everything else in the world.
The first wave of pleasure slams into me, making my arms and legs tremble beneath me, but Owen holds me up, chasing his own release. The minute his hips pulse unevenly against my ass and then still, I know he’s succeeded, and I allow my arms to give out as the numbness spreads through my body. I sigh as Owen presses several gentle kisses along my spine, slowly lowering us both to the bed and rolling me to face him as we catch our breath.
We lay in silence for a few minutes, basking in the pure bliss of being with each other again, but there’s no ignoring the giant purple elephant in the room any longer. “We’re good, right?” I confirm, and Owen nods. “We’re going to figure out a way to make this work?” He nods again, and I release a deep, calming breath, knowing that when it comes to my dad, we’ll have to say exactly the right thing, at exactly the right time.
When my stomach rumbles—a reminder that I hadn’t eaten much of anything all weekend—we head to the kitchen, naked, and find something quick, simple, and crumb-free that we can enjoy in bed. Once our bodies have been fed, we lie down, pull the blanket up to our hips, and stare at each other, occasionally reaching over and lacing our fingers together, or pushing the other’s hair out of their face. It’s sweet, and exactly what we need right now.
As the hours tick by, we talk about the mistakes we both made on Friday. It wasn’t just Owen who fucked up by taking me home, but me as well for not fighting harder. Neither of us faults the other, of course, but at least we’ve acknowledged it and plan to keep it from happening again by always trying to be open and honest. Naturally, our conversation segues back into the event that brought us to this point, and after a lot of sidestepping, we decide to figure out a way to break the news to my dad.
“Okay,” I speak up, “I’d like to request we wait until after the holidays to tell him.” Owen’s brows pull together, puzzled, and I continue. “It’s not that I want to keep sneaking around, because, after what happened on Friday, I know how scary the thought of being found out is. And while I know that he’ll come around once he sees how happy we make each other, I’m not naive enough to think he’ll accept us right away. I just don’t think that we should run the risk of upsetting him around Christmas… You know?”
Owen’s head bobs up and down slowly, his eyes dropping to his hand as it makes its way across the bed and takes one of mine. His thumb moves softly over my skin, and he silently assents.
“It’s only a little over a month,” I whisper, watching his thumb continue to glide over the back of my hand. “We can make it, right?”
The gentle pressure of Owen’s hand around mine is all the assurance I need, but he verbalizes it anyway. “Of course we can.”
As the sky continues to darken outside my bedroom window, not much else is said between the sweet, tender kisses we share, or the soft caresses of his fingers on my cheek, neck, or arm. Nonetheless, I feel content and happy with him across from me.
“It’s getting late,” Owen declares softly, his eyes dancing between mine as if searching for something.
I’m not sure if he’s hinting at heading home, but before he says anything else, I speak up. “Stay with me.” I reach across the bed and place my hand on his jaw, feeling the coarse stubble against my palm and zeroing my gaze in on his lips. “Please.”
He covers my hand with his and closes his eyes. “I would love to.” Turning his face slightly, he presses a kiss into my palm before lifting my hand and lacing our fingers together.
My eyelids are heavy, but there’s this irrational part of my brain that fears this really is just a dream. That, if I fall asleep, I’ll wake up alone again, so I try to make myself stay awake as long as possible. Soon, I yawn, and Owen follows suit, scooting closer to me on the bed and draping an arm over my waist. Our legs tangle together as he kisses my nose, and I sigh, my eyes fluttering closed as another yawn escapes.
“Get some sleep, Amelia,” he whispers, his warm breath fanning across my skin, and when I open my eyes a tiny bit, I see his own eyes are closing.