Page 53 of The Relationship Clause

Now it’s all I can think about. The tilt of her mouth, the flush of her cheeks, the way her hand rests lightly on my arm. Will her raspberry-red lips taste as sweet as they look?

But, no. This is still wrong.

This is my crazy man-brain thinking—or rather, not thinking—when there are other, more important factors to consider. Namely, Junie’s feelings on the matter.

“Junie, I’m not going to let my dad bully us into—”

But I don’t get to finish my sentence, because suddenly, Junie pushes up on her tiptoes, wraps her hands around my neck, and pulls my mouth to hers.

CHAPTER 16

JUNIE

For a moment, I stand here, my lips pressed against Owen’s. I’m not allowing myself to do anything else. No thinking, no feeling, no exploring. Any of the above would be dangerous, and I’m already on shaky, mile-high stilts walking across a tightrope.

I only did this to shut Owen’s dad up, to keep the peace, and help him save face. No. Maybe that’s only part of the truth. The other part of the truth is that I maybe, sort of, kind of couldn’t keep my curiosity at bay any longer. I needed to know what it would feel like to do exactly this with exactly this man.

But now, here I am, literally kissing my boss and not allowing myself to enjoy it.

Because I shouldn’t be enjoying it. I shouldn’t be leading myself or him on. Especially after that conversation I had with my dad. The one where he told me he had the opportunity to tour a normally forbidden pyramid in Egypt and then go on a two-week-long excursion down the Nile. He won’t be back for who knows how long even though he said he’d be back last week.

But it’s fine. He’s fine. I’m fine. It’s all fine. Because wandering is what makes him happy. Wandering is what makes me happy. We’re kindred spirits with restless souls, unable and unwilling to be tied down to anything.

At least, I thought I was.

But this whole thing with Owen is messing with my head. Because you know what I realized tonight? I realized while eating this incredible meal Owen made, while Kiera tried to tease us and his dad got more and more drunk, that I was happy. Being here with him made me happy.

And the thought of spending more time with him makes me happy too. Usually, the thought of spending more time with people makes me antsy. I need a clear cutoff date, a closing time, or else the thought of staying in one place for too long is too much.

But suddenly, with Owen, it’s the exact opposite. I want to spend more time with him, not less.

That’s because it’s the honeymoon phase. I’m twitterpated. I always feel this way when I think I’ll try dating someone again. It never lasts.

So I kiss Owen, but for both our sakes, I’m as stiff and cold as the floor we’re standing on.

That is, until Owen’s hands encircle my waist and ever so slowly draw my body closer to his until there’s no space left between us. His hands increase their pressure until they force a sigh out of me. The sigh is the key. I relax into him, caving into the desire welling up within me, and melt into him. I’m like clay on a potter’s wheel, bending and molding to the slightest touch.

And oh, wow, am I glad I am, because I would have missed out.

Owen’s lips are soft and warm. Softer than I would have thought possible for a man as tough and hard on the exterior as he is. But they move with surety and confidence. I may have started this kiss, but he’s taking the reins, and that’s fine by me, because I lost control of this horse a long time ago.

His arms wrap tighter around me still, and one hand moves up to the back of my neck, burrowing in my hair and tilting me more fully toward him. I wish my hair had nerve endings too so I could feel all of him in this moment. As his mouth moves against mine, heat rolls through me in waves, crashing and breaking like a fiery ocean of want and longing. It’s embarrassing how much I’m enjoying this. For him, this is probably just a kiss to get his dad off his back, but for me, this is turning into something too big and scary to name.

Don’t fool yourself, Junie. This isn’t just some kiss for Owen either.

The thought pulls me up short. My hands freeze in place against Owen’s chest where they were previously exploring. Tension enters every muscle fiber.

Owen must notice because his lips go still against mine. He’s gasping for breath. We both are.

“Juniper?” Owen whispers my name like it’s something sacred, something special. My full name again. Why do I like it so much when he uses my full name?

I shake my head, pushing away from him and back into my own little bubble of safe space, and that’s when I notice Owen’s dad.

“He fell asleep,” I say, incredulous.

Owen follows my gaze. His dad, who was leaning against the kitchen counter before we started our kiss, has sunk into one of the barstools, head in hand, eyes closed, and is now softly snoring.

“I don’t believe it,” I mutter.

---