Page 2 of Owen (Storm Enterprises)

Staring into her eyes, I know I have to do better, be better, for her. And I want it, I want that more than anything else in the world. I want to be worthy of her.

“Owen?” she whispers, and the softness of her voice shoots to my balls, and my cock thickens in my slacks at the sound.

My mouth becomes impossibly dry as her tongue darts out over her plump bottom lip. That fucking lipstick she doesn’t need marring her precious lips when they’re edible enough without it has my fists pumping beside me.

Who the fuck did she paint them for?

I long to wrap her thick brown waves around my fist and haul her back so I can devour her neck. Her hair flows down to her ass, accentuated in a little red dress molded to her body like a second skin, forcing a lump to clog in my throat.

Jesus, she’s stunning.

“Owen. Are you okay?” Her concerned tone filters through my senses, and I squeeze my eyes shut at the intense pain lancing through my chest at her beauty.

I imagine peeling her dress from her, sliding it down her hips along with her panties, then I’d bend her over the vanity and gag her with her panties while I fuck her cunt ruthlessly.

“Owen?”

My eyes snap open, and she stares back at me. Those emerald orbs that haunt my dreams, scanning my reflection.

“Are you okay?” she repeats.

Okay?

I choke on a sardonic laugh.

How the fuck can I be okay? I’m standing in her bedroom with a raging hard-on. Every part of my body screams to take her, to make her mine. Yet my mind tells me not to do it.

There will be no going back.

I’m not good enough for her.

My best friend would hate me.

She would throw her life away to be with me. I know she would, and ultimately, she would hate me for giving in to this intense craving I have for her.

But in this moment, as she stares back at me with equal longing in her eyes, all my inhibitions slip away, and I simply don’t care.

I want her.

LAYA

His gaze holds my heartbeat hostage. He stares at me with such potency I grip the vanity to stabilize myself. How I’ve longed for his eyes to devour me the way they are right now.

From the moment I set eyes on him, I’ve loved him, and not in the cute, crush kind of way that’s been insinuated repeatedly over the years.

When I was little, my stomach would flutter and my body would tremble with an awareness of his proximity. I’d become his shadow, annoying my brother and his friends to be close to Owen, but I didn’t care. No matter how many times they ridiculed him, he never made me feel like an inconvenience. As I grew, my feelings only intensified. The flutters became laced in desire, my trembles became quakes at his touch, and every sly glance he gifted me only gave my mind the reassurance I needed.

He’s mine.

My dreams were dedicated to him, my thoughts invaded by him, and my future dictated for him.

I’ve loved him with every fiber of my being, with every beat of my heart, and every breath I take. Owen James Stevens has always been mine; he’s just been too afraid to show it.

Until now.

His eyes bore into me with such reverence it steals my breath from my lungs, causing me to divert my gaze for only a moment, as my eyes are desperate to be back on his handsome face.

His thick thighs cause the fabric of his pants to cling to him, and his white dress shirt is pulled tightly across his shoulders, the top two buttons open, exposing his numerous tattoos, each one symbolic to him. I’ve memorized them over the years, even going as far as to watch him as he sleeps, sneaking photos of his bare chest and spending hours trailing my finger over the delectable photo as if it was real. Always so out of reach, yet always so close, my protector.

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