Seven(30)

Concentrate on the sex. Just on the sex. The sex was incredible. How many women would kill for what Amy had in bed?

She closed her eyes briefly, assessed how her body felt. She was tired and sore and still tingling and sensitive in a number of places.

But she was definitely up for one more orgasm.

“You ready for number seven?” Owen asked, his hand gently brushing her messy hair back from her face.

She was ready, and she was going to use her last orgasm to regain the reasonable control over her world she’d almost lost this afternoon.

So she gave up on their wager. She hated to lose, but winning just wasn’t as important as saving her heart. And if it took coming one more time to make her appreciate what she had—and to not yearn for something more, something that could never be hers—then she was willing to suffer through one more orgasm.

But she couldn’t make love to him. Couldn’t do anything that would soften her, deepen her, make her want things that couldn’t be hers.

What she needed was a good fuck.

A few random comments from earlier gave her the hint she needed. She knew exactly what kind of sex would distract her, would get her mind off love.

She scrambled out of the bed, her knees wobbling a little as she stood beside it. She saw Owen’s eyes crawl greedily over her naked body, which was marked all over now from his hands, mouth, and teeth.

He wanted her. He had always wanted her. It was something—and something she should appreciate.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his eyes settling once more on her face. “What about number seven?”

She put her hands on her hips, stretching her breasts slightly and feeling a little smile at Owen’s obvious reaction to the move. “What makes you think I’m going to make it easy for you?”

“You certainly haven’t made it easy for me yet. But I’m up for any challenge you throw my way.”

Amy glanced at the clock. “We have sixteen minutes left,” she said as a plan came together in her mind. Not a plan to win the wager, but a plan to make her focus purely on sex. To affirm what their relationship had always been about.

If Owen could do it, so could she.

“What your point? That’s more than enough time for me to give you one more orgasm.”

“Maybe.” She shifted her stance in preparation. “But only if you’re able to touch me.” She saw momentary confusion on his face, so she cleared it up for him. “You’ll have to catch me first.”

As enlightenment dawned on his face, Owen moved, as quickly and dangerously as a predator. But Amy had been watching and, as soon as he pounced, she squealed and raced to the doorway.

He was on his feet and had taken two steps toward her. Then he called out, “Damn it, Amy. I have a raging hard-on! You’re not actually going to make me chase you around, are you?”

Giggling, Amy skittered down the hall and waited. Her plan was working. She was excited, aroused, and breathing heavily. Was indulging in absolutely no mushy feelings, despite how adorably aggrieved he had sounded.

He appeared out of the bedroom, took a step into the hall—scowling, naked, and very erect.

“You don’t have to chase me,” she taunted. “You could always just give up and admit defeat.”

Owen growled at her in a way that made her shiver. Then he paced toward her, not running, but each stride long and purposeful.

Amy turned around and hurried into the living room.

She wasn’t actually planning to elude him for long. She wanted to have sex but wanted to get them both in the proper mood before they fucked. Running over to the other side of the room, she planted herself behind a leather armchair.

When Owen approached her, she darted away, leading him first into the kitchen. Then down the hall again. Back into the living room. And then finally where she had planned to end up all along.

In the corner near the window. Where she would accidentally get trapped.

He’d cornered here now, and he stood in front of her, looking impatient and aroused and dominant.

Amy lost her breath at the sight of him—but her reaction was definitely from lust and not from tenderness. She was flushed all over but she managed to throw out some teasing insults about what a wuss he was, just so he’d know how he was supposed to act.

From the clock on the cable box, she saw that they’d only wasted three minutes on the chase, which still left them plenty of time for wild, primal fucking.

No love here. Just sex. Nothing in the world wrong with that.

Amy waited until Owen approached her.

“I believe I’ve caught you,” Owen said in a silky voice, raking his gaze over her possessively. “I guess that means I can touch you now.”