Page 69 of The Relationship Clause

I’m licking the last of the sweet, drippy syrup from my fork when Owen’s phone dings from the other room. He leaves, and I take the chance to breathe deeply, bunching my lips to the side as I try to sort out all the feelings buzzing around inside me.

This thing we’re doing, this flirtatious, back-and-forth, getting to know each other game is fun. More than fun, it’s comfortable. Natural. Giving in to my desire to let myself grow closer to Owen over the last twenty-four hours has been easier than I thought it would be.

I keep waiting for my urge to run to pop up, but it doesn’t. And the way I’m feeling about him right now, it should. I should be hard-core making backup plans for what to do and where to go when I’m ready to run. In fact, the old me would have been making backup plans for my backup plans. But I’m not.

Maybe that’s why this is almost scarier.

Owen comes back into the room, frowning at his phone.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Yeah, it’s Shane,” he says.

“Oh, right. Did he say anything about Phase Three or the trap? Did anyone try to break into the software or whatever?” As crazy as it sounds, I almost kind of forgot about the leak and trying to find out who the mole was over the last twenty-four hours. I feel bad about it, but my mind’s been focused on so many other things.

Okay, one thing. One person. Owen. My brain has one hundred percent been focused on Owen.

“No, nothing so far.” He sits on the bed, this time closer to me than before. We’ve both finished our food, and I have the urge to lean into him, hoping he’ll wrap his arms around me.

I resist at first, until he does exactly what I was hoping he’d do even without my prompting. His arm goes around me, and he pulls me tightly to him. I give up all my defenses. What’s the point? This is what I want. If this thing between us is right, the anxiety I’m feeling will go away on its own eventually. I hope.

“That’s weird,” I say, trying to stay grounded in the conversation. “I thought for sure we’d get a breakthrough yesterday.”

“Me too,” he says, putting his phone away. Then both of his arms are around me, and this is my new favorite place to be. Right here. “I’m kind of worried that we didn’t.” As he speaks, his lips tickle the top of my head.

“I’m sure it’ll happen eventually. Maybe whoever it is is being extra cautious. They probably know better than to jump on this right away.”

“Yeah, you might be right. I hate the waiting game though.”

“I know.” I snuggle into his chest more, wishing I could hug all his problems away. If only there were something more I could do.

“Alright, I need a distraction from all of that. Are you sure I can’t convince you to join me on the slopes again today?” he asks, his lips buried somewhere in my hair.

“Ha. No way.”

“Really?” He tilts my chin up toward him, a promise in his eyes. I smile, knowing what he’s doing and that I’m going to enjoy every last second of it. His breath mingles with mine, and then our mouths fit together like puzzle pieces.

His lips are warm and sweet as syrup. His fingertips graze against the skin at my waist where my pajama shirt has inched up. There’s nothing hurried or desperate about this kiss, but I almost wish there were. With every touch from him, I’m heating up from the inside out like an oven whose temperature is being incrementally dialed up.

My hands explore the buttery softness of his t-shirt and the hard planes of his chest, trying to coax more out of him, but it doesn’t work. His movements are languid and leisurely. The more in control he is, the more out of control I become. I try picking up the pace, signaling I want more, but he stalls me at every touch. It’s the best kind of torture, and I think he could persuade me to ski down Mount Everest with him at this rate.

When I’m about to crawl onto his lap and beg him for more, his lips turn into a smile against mine, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest.

“You suck,” I whisper, smiling too. “And I’m still not skiing.”

“I figured.” He laughs and wraps me in his arms again, pulling me onto his lap and cradling me against his chest. “But I had a backup plan just in case. What do you say to spending a day at the spa with me?”

He brings out a set of pamphlets from the side table, fanning them out before me in a move I can only describe as Vanna White-esque.

“A day at the spa, huh?” I say, inspecting the pamphlets. I’ve never been to a spa before. Heck, I’ve never been to a nail salon. Inside, I’m doing a total jumpy up and down thingy, because this sounds amazing, but on the outside, I’m cool as a cucumber. Can’t let him know he won that easily. “I suppose I can be persuaded.”

“Good,” he says, kissing me softly on the nose.

I think I may be in heaven.

I, Junie Cousins, am in love.

With spa day, let’s be clear about that. I’m in love with spa day. I would live at the spa if I didn’t need trivial things like money to pay for food and my mortgage. I don’t even know the names for half of the things they’ve been doing to me, but I don’t care, because this is bliss.

---