Just a Number(56)

Amelia’s face fills with color, and she drops her eyes to her bare feet, shaking her head. “Th-that’s okay. I was just finishing up. Bathroom’s all yours, Owen.”

Carla’s quick to drop off her bag and then retreats back downstairs, and just before I step into the washroom, I take one more glance over my shoulder, my eyes catching Amelia’s once more as she slowly pushes the door closed. Our morning might have started a little awkwardly in the wake of a rough first night in her dad’s house, but seeing her smile at me—even if only in passing or as she closes herself in her room and away from me—reaffirms how she feels deep down.

Of course, then I’m reminded about how much of an awful tease she is, because just before her door closes all the way, she pulls off her towel, giving me an inch-wide sneak peak of the lean length of her body. There’s no way she did this accidentally, and I definitely don’t see nearly as much as I’d like, but even just seeing that strip of skin from her waist to her ankle is enough to make my pulse race and my dick react accordingly. I’m trying to stay in place instead of going to her door and slipping inside—again my imagination running away from me—when I hear the click of her door locking and a dull buzz from the pocket of my bag. I dig my phone out and shake my head as I read the text message:



Have a good shower… I know I did. xoxo ;)



Having her confirm having sent the message so I could get my rocks off makes me want her just a little bit more. As if that were even possible.





17. Silent Night



I’m not going to lie. I’m pretty proud of myself for my little striptease before locking my bedroom door. Was it inappropriate? Absolutely, but I just couldn’t help myself. After what happened last night—being caught groping and dry-humping each other on my dad’s washing machine—I figured maybe he’d like a little spank-bank material to help us get through today.

Hmm…maybe I should send him a picture of my tits.

When I hear the shower start up, I figure I’m too late for that idea, so I decide to save it for another time. I’m sure it’ll come in handy later on.

Digging through my bag, I pull out a pair of dark skinny jeans and a deep red V-neck sweater and toss them on my bed while I fish out some underwear and a bra. I decide on the lacy red set, even though they’ll go unappreciated.

Unless I send Owen that cleavage shot I was just thinking about.

Yeah, I’m totally going to do that. He’ll probably need to get right back in the shower afterward, but I’m sure he’ll be all right with that.

After putting my bra and panties on, I grab my phone and take said picture. I’ve never been the girl who sends racy photos to a guy for fear he’ll show them off to his buddies, but something tells me that won’t be a problem with Owen.

I shudder having even entertained that thought for a millisecond.

I’m practically bouncing with excitement, my smile stretching so wide it makes my cheeks hurt, as I attach the picture to a text and send it with the message:



Don’t you wish you could open

your present?



I know I probably shouldn’t be doing this—really, I do—but I’m starting to think that playing it 100% safe is just going to get us in trouble again. There’s far too much sexual tension between us when we pretend like nothing’s going on, and when it explodes, it’s just too intense to walk away from. No, I’m thinking this might be better. I hope so anyway.

I put my phone on my bed and then pull on my jeans and sweater. The jeans are slim-fitted to my lower body, accentuating my ass and thighs, and my sweater shows off my curves while boasting a modest V-neckline that won’t risk flashing the girls. I’d say I look pretty damn hot, but not hot enough to risk Owen losing all self-control.

At least, I hope not—which feels foreign and weird, because I’ve become a fan of him losing control sexually speaking.

I push my phone into my back pocket and sit on my bed, grabbing my knee-high brown leather boots from the floor and pulling them on. They slouch a little around my calves, and they have a lower heel, which will allow me to remain comfortable throughout the day.

I’m just pulling the second one on when there’s a knock at the door, so I get up to unlock it, and when I open it, I’m surprised to see Carla standing there with two cups of tea and a small smile.

“Can I come in?” she asks softly.

I step out of the way and hold out my arm, granting her access. “Of course,” I reply.

She sits on the edge of my bed and offers me one of the cups. “A peace offering,” she says. “I came to apologize. For last night. Honestly, I was up half the night trying to wrap my head around everything, and I realized just how wrong I’d been to say those things. I think the surprise of finding the two of you like that just threw me.”