Seven(18)

She loved having sex. Loved the touch of his hands, his lips, his cock, his hard body. Loved every orgasm she and Owen experienced together.

Loved this afterward even more.

“You all right?” Owen asked at last, his voice faint and breathless.

“Yeah,” she replied, pulling off him so that his sated cock slipped out of her. She curled up at his side and stroked a hand up his chest to cup his cheek. “Kind of tired. That was five.” She tilted her head up to scan his face, looking for signs of regret or disappointment. “You?”

“I can’t remember the last time I came that hard.” His tone should have been conversational but ended up sounding almost awed.

Amy felt a little awed herself but was too embarrassed to vocalize it. Certainly she was impressed by his physical prowess, but she had been more affected by the things that weren’t physical. Their need for each other, their emotional connection, the way her heart had lurched and swelled when she’d heard him call her love.

She knew it didn’t mean anything. He was British, after all. But still…

A warm feeling grew in her belly, a mingling of that silly hope, the incredible physical satisfaction, and the thrill of knowing she had won,

Caressing his cheek, she murmured, “I came pretty hard too. Five times. Neither one of us should be disappointed.”

“Why would we be?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow and beginning to look a little more like himself.

“Well, I shouldn’t be,” Amy explained, trying to keep the pleased satisfaction out of her voice. “You made me come five times. It was amazing.” Her lips twitched irrepressibly. “Plus, I won our little wager.”

His brow lowered. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, the challenge was seven. And you managed five. And oral sex won’t count—your cock has to be in play.” She reached down to palm his damp, limp penis. Stroked it with her thumb. “You’re not going to get very far at making me come two more times using this.”

He glanced to the side at the clock on the nightstand. “If I’m not mistaken, the challenge gave me two hours. That means I still have just over an hour left.”

Amy stared at him blankly, not following what he was saying. It should be obvious but she’d so set her mind on making Owen come that she hadn’t even considered anything that might happen afterwards.

He kissed her on the temple. Then on the side of her jaw. Then on the mouth. And his kisses were so sweet and gentle that Amy was temporary distracted. As she sighed in delight, he murmured hoarsely, “Give me some recovery time. Then we’ll be back in business.”

Amy blinked at him. Saw a smug kind of amusement flickering beyond the tenderness in his eyes.

She’d been so sure that making him come would mean she’d won. Foolishly, she hadn’t even thought of this. “Oh,” she mumbled, feeling a stream of their mingled fluids leaking down her inner thigh.

He chuckled and pulled her closer. “Amy, love, I told you not to underestimate me.”





Interlude




Amy was starting to get scared. Not just nervous or vaguely anxious, but really scared—as in panicky.

She wasn’t scared about losing the wager, although she knew enough to realize now that seven orgasms in two hours weren’t quite as impossible as she’d originally believed. She didn’t want to lose, but it wasn’t something that she would actually panic over.

The terror came from something else. Something far more dangerous and something that meant so much more.

There was true peril in the way she was feeling now. Her body was pleased and pliant, and she was draped over Owen like a throw. His soft kisses were making her melt, and his dry humor and familiar smugness caused her chest to clench with tenderness.

Her heart was starting to believe some things that her mind knew could never be true. And the more she nestled against him in sweet, sated languor, the more her common sense and rational control faded under a hot, thick rush of emotion.

Emotion she could never admit to, never say out loud. She loved having sex with Owen, but it had always, only been an outlet for her physical need since there was no future for them.

He was leaving the country in twenty-eight days.

The only problem was that, at the moment, her body was saying she loved him. Her heart was saying she loved him. And her mouth was closer to saying it than she could allow.

It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. She wouldn’t let it be true.

Because, if it was true, her heart would be shattered to pieces a month from now.

She rolled away from him abruptly when she felt stark fear roil in her gut. She had to be so careful. Had to avoid making him suspicious. If he started to think that she was about to profess her undying adoration, then he would feel trapped and try to escape as quickly as possible.