Page 40 of The Taking of House Westwood

Sophie clutched to his body, her arms wrapped around him “Owen, I’ve — thought about you.”

“You have?” The note of surprise in his voice shocked her.

She’d thought of him every day. Did he not know her real feelings? A shiver of dread raced through her at that possibility What if her feelings weren’t reciprocated? Could she have misread the signs? Misinterpreted everything?

“Sophie, I need to ask you something. I should have asked you — before.” He tipped her chin up, his gaze meeting hers. “It’s stupid of me to ask now at a time like this, but I must know.” His throat moved, his gaze dropping a moment. “Is there someone? I mean — was there someone?”

Sophie blew out a breath. “No, not until … “ She looked away, humiliated by the blush she felt burning her cheeks. Until she’d been defiled by that hateful woman. Debased by her lackeys.

But there was a deeper truth she’d discovered — had been forced to discover. It was something she didn’t think she had the courage to confront.

She’d changed.

Whether it was voluntarily or not — and she wasn’t sure what Owen would make of it — she was no longer the girl he used to know. Perhaps he’d be horrified. Would he think her depraved?

Never.

Sophie would never let that evil witch have that too, rob her of her self-regard.

The tension in Owen’s lean young body eased, and he hugged her closer to him. It felt good to be surrounded by those strong arms, just as she’d imagined all those lonely nights locked in her quarters. Now it was happening. It was real.

The breath caught in her chest when she felt it. Felt him. His penis was stiff, the length of him against her thigh as he held her in his arms. He wanted her! She was confused, elated and hesitant all at once. She looked up at him, and it was his turn to blush.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, moving his hips so that his erection no longer brushed against her. She missed it immediately. It was such a revelation to feel the physical manifestation of a man’s desire for her. It made her feel powerful.

“No, you don’t have to.” She lowered her eyes, and she spread her hands on his broad chest. The muscles felt magnificent. All those surreptitious admiring glances had led to this and she knew mere glances would never suffice again.

She felt like a wanton whore, her desire rising in such a way. As long as she was in Owen’s arms, she wouldn’t care though. After what she’d been through, she needed this, needed him.

He pulled her close, his embrace squeezing the breath from her. Ah, such strength! She loved it!

“Sophie,” he breathed into her ear. “I thought of you, constantly. Wondered what you were doing, what you were thinking. Wondering if you thought of me.”

She smiled up at him. “Owen. Every day. Every morning, every night. I’ve missed you so.”

He inhaled a deep shuddering breath, and she felt his lips on her ear. He kissed her hair, his big hands cradling her face. His breath was warm on her skin. She felt pleasure uncoiling low in her belly, and the moist heat of her sex increased. She wanted to feel that hardness again, feel the reaction he couldn’t hide. His lust for her.

Reaching down, her hands burrowed into the rough cloth of his robes. She pulled the robe open, her darting hands more insistent by the second. He pulled her onto his lap, and she opened her legs to straddle him. His embrace felt so right, so safe, the strength in his arms making her dizzy. She hugged herself to him, luxuriating in the feel of her soft breasts against the hard planes of his chest.

Then he kissed her, and she sighed into his mouth. His lips, his tongue explored her, soft, yet demanding all at once. She opened her mouth to him, and his tongue dove deeper, twining with hers. He caught her lip between his teeth, and she smiled again. He let her go with a laugh, pressing quick, soft kisses to her mouth, her cheeks.

Her fingers found him, and she felt that big, male body shudder, the tense, corded muscles of his thighs like steel. His penis bucked as she clasped it fully in her hand. She was surprised at the softness of his skin, the heat that radiated from it. She longed to feel that heat within her own, joining with her.

“Sophie — we don’t have much time.”

She shook her head, her forehead dropping to his chest, wishing she could shed the infernal robes altogether. She longed to look upon his naked body. “I’ve waited too long, Owen. We could be killed tomorrow, or tonight. Let me have this. I want this. Please.”

She felt his hands close on her arms, squeezing.

“Sophie. What are you — doing?”

Running her hand up and down his shaft, she enjoyed the feel of silk over steel, enjoyed the feeling of his maleness in her palm. Then he grunted, pushing her to her back and laying upon her.

She struggled to spread her legs, to draw him in close. “My legs. Hurry!”

Her need was overpowering, wanting him inside her, everywhere. She’d never felt this way before, but something within her told her it had to be now. They might never have the chance again. Dread chilled her at the thought.

Owen freed her ankles, his hands shaking as he worked. She wondered if it was fear or arousal that affected him so. He stood up, and shed the robe quickly.

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