Just a Number(92)

“It’s okay,” I tell him, brushing his ear with my lips before nipping it lightly.

His hips thrust up against me in response, and then his hands ensnare my hips, pulling me against him as his mouth attacks mine. I cup the side of his face in my hands and slide my tongue over his, deepening our kiss as his hands move up and under my shirt. A tingling sensation moves like a current beneath my skin as his fingers pull my bra down and work my nipples into hardened peaks.

I moan into his mouth, and in a flash, Owen has me pinned beneath him on the couch, his hips thrusting against me with purpose. I loosen my legs from around him and slide my hands down his body until I’m fumbling with the button on his jeans and trying to push them down. When he pulls away from me, both of us panting wildly and trying to catch our breath, he does the same to my jeans, yanking them from my body and throwing them across the room. He stands next to the couch and removes his clothes while I shed my sweater and bra, and then he eases his way back between my trembling thighs.

I whimper when he slips between my legs, teasing and promising all at the same time, and before I can turn into the girl who begs to be fucked senseless, he pushes himself inside of me slowly.

The urgency from before is gone as he moves against me, his eyes locked with mine as his fingers brush my hair from my face, and I am so overcome by emotion, feeling his love for me radiate through us both.

The pressure of my orgasm swells and rolls in my belly, and I lift my face to his, kissing him hard and fast as he keeps his steady pace between my legs. The first wave of pleasure crashes over me, and I gasp against his lips before declaring, “I love you, Owen.”

Closing in on his own orgasm, Owen’s hips pulse against me, and he presses his forehead to mine. His eyes once again entrap me, and he breathes heavily before returning the sentiment. “I love you, too.”

We collapse onto the couch, sweaty and breathless with our legs tangled up. We use our fingers to lazily trace nonsensical designs on each other’s skin as we slowly come down from our post-sex high. Maybe I’m just overly sentimental, but I feel like this was the best sex we’ve had, due in large part to how we’ve declared our true feelings for one another. It’s a first for me, and I can’t imagine that it gets any better than this.

I must start to doze off, because I’m suddenly being coaxed by Owen to get off the couch and come to bed. We gather our clothes off the floor and head to the bedroom where we collapse, naked and exhausted, beneath his comforter. He pulls me into his side and begins tickling my back, lulling me back to sleep, and I find myself thinking about how perfect my life is in this moment…

…until my dreams remind me of how my relationship with my father still hangs in the balance.

I relive the night he found out with vivid, ice-cold clarity, and when I jolt awake the next morning, I’m surprised to see Owen sitting on the edge of the bed next to me, dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and nothing else. His head hangs, and his eyes are fixed to the floor. He looks upset, and this worries me, so I lay a hand on his back, drawing his gaze to me.

“You were talking in your sleep last night,” he says, smiling brokenly.

I try to lighten his mood with a smile. “Well, that’s not unusual for me.”

“I hate how things between you two have turned out,” he confesses. “I think you should talk to him.”

Keeping the sheet around me, I bring my knees to my chest and rest my chin on them. “I’ve tried. He doesn’t want to talk to me right now.”

“Then make him,” Owen says, turning to me and holding out his hand; dangling between his thumb and forefinger are the keys to his Lexus. “Take my car. Make him listen to you. My relationship with him probably isn’t salvageable, but yours is.”

“Owen…” I start to say, but he shakes his head.

“I’ll be here when you get back,” he promises. “But you need to try and get him to hear you. Until you do, you won’t be able to rest easy.”

He’s right, so I take his keys and nod. “All right,” I agree. “I’ll go.”





24. Coming Home



I pull up to the house a little after noon, but I can’t bring myself to get out of the warm vehicle. Not because it’s particularly cold outside, but because I fear the chilly reception I might receive for my unannounced visit.

Not that my dad doesn’t deserve to be surprised by my arrival after he pulled the same stunt.

Four songs play on the radio before I finally find the courage to turn the car off and step outside. Hesitant, I take my time climbing the front steps. I reach for the doorknob, knowing it’ll be unlocked, but then think better of it and knock instead.