Page 31 of Owen (Storm Enterprises)

The fight has left my body, and I feel drained, totally spent from the turmoil of the last few days. I ignore the words Owen demanded and the meaning behind them and walk into the bathroom, suddenly desperate to rid myself of the physical aspects of the trauma that occurred back in Mexico. The need to scrub my skin clean becomes desperate, so I squeeze some body wash into the tub, turn the water on, then use the toilet.

After flushing, I take a deep breath and wash my hands. Finally, I exhale and lift my head to assess the damage. A pang of hurt slices through me. How could he do this? How could he have allowed himself to put us in a position where he caused so much heartache? How could he ruin everything we could have been?

The red rims below my eyes are puffy. My lip is partially split, and I’m unsure if it’s because of his assault or due to the lack of care and simply existing. My complexion is unusually pale, andmy damaged cheek is swollen and mottled with bruising from the blunt force of his fist. I wince when I press against my cheek.

“It’s okay, baby girl.” My gaze snaps up to Owen’s, his assessing eyes drilling into me as he stands, being my protector. “Nothing will hurt you again.”

I nod, then panic rushes through me, and my focus snaps toward the door. “He’s fine. I got him a crib. Little guy sleeps heavy.” He chuckles, and I smile. He really does. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Stepping back, he allows me to turn, but he makes no move to leave the bathroom.

“Owen?”

Then he shocks the hell out of me by lowering to his knees, and his thick fingers unbutton the shirt.

“Should just rip it from you, but I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice is soft and his fingers tremble as he unbuttons me steadily.

“Owen. You don’t have to—”

His gaze snaps up to meet mine. His bright-blue eyes hold tenderness to them and a shimmer of vulnerability he’s only ever shown me once before. “I want to take care of you,” he whispers, sending a trail of goose bumps over my skin while his words repeat in my head. He wants to take care of me.

When he reaches up to push the shirt from my shoulders, the air is knocked from my lungs at the intensity behind his eyes. He licks his lips slowly, like he’s calculating his next move.

Heat travels over me as his eyes trail down my body. The moment he notices the bruising, he flinches, then his entire body coils tight. When his rough hand gently strokes over the bruising on my hip, I can’t help but melt into him. The tenderness of his touch after being exposed to such brutality has my heart clenching with longing.

“It’s okay, baby girl. You’re safe with me. Always safe with me.” His palm glides over the area, warming me from theoutside in, and the familiarity of him calling mebaby girlhas my toes curling into the tiles.

The moment he pulls his hand away from me, I feel the disconnection in my bones, like a part of me is missing, and I hate it. The usual tsunami of emotions I feel around Owen threatens to make a comeback, only this time I don’t have the strength in me to fight it.

“I’m going to take such good care of you, baby girl.” The sincerity pouring from his tone and eyes tells me everything I need to know. But for how long? And what does taking care of me look like to Owen?

When his fingers fumble to unclasp the front of my bra, I’m snapped out of my stupor and see the lust in his eyes and can’t help the wetness that instantly pools between my legs.

Jesus, the man is on his knees in front of me like he worships me, his gaze transfixed on my heavy tits.

“Fuck,” he grunts, and suddenly, I’m feeling a little self-conscious.

My body has changed a lot since he last saw me naked, yet he still looks at me as if I’m his everything.

He rolls his lip between his teeth. “Jesus, baby girl. I didn’t think you could get any more beautiful.” He lifts his eyes to meet mine. “You’re so beautiful.”

I move my arms to cover myself from his gaze, and his hand snaps out to keep me on display. “Don’t ever cover up from me, Laya.”

“I have stretch marks.” My reply is monotone. I’m stupefied by how he can find me attractive, but then he places a kiss on my stomach, and a bolt of electricity courses through me, bringing life to every cell inside me that withered away in Mexico.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs. “You’re so fucking beautiful and you don’t even see it. I’m going to spend every day of my life making you see, Laya.” The honesty in his tone causes emotionto settle deep inside me. He’s saying everything you wish a man would say to you and his eyes implore me to believe it.

Then his trembly hands move to my hips, holding me in place for a moment as our gazes remain locked on one another. The atmosphere between us is intense, and my pulse quickens to the point of boiling. His rough fingers slip beneath the lace of my panties, then he slides them down to my feet, our focus remaining on one another as he discards them to the floor.

Then his focus turns toward my center, and my heart skips a beat. When he licks those traitorous lips of his, I think he’s going to move his face toward my pussy, so I step back, remembering I haven’t washed in a few days, disconnecting us in an instant.

I turn away from his deep chuckle, and he stands and walks over to the tub, holding his hand out for me, then I slip mine into his and he helps me into the tub of bubbles.

The moment the water hits my skin, I sigh in relief; the stress drains from my body like a dam breaking.

Owen kneels beside the tub and lathers up a washcloth. Then he surprises me by gently washing my face, tilting my chin in each direction with his thick fingers while I watch him through hooded eyes.

He’s as handsome as I remember, more so, if that’s even possible, and I wonder if he has someone important in his life, someone meaningful to him, someone he would risk it all for. Jealousy swims in my stomach, yet I have no right to it; I know that, and I hate myself for it. Despite that, it’s there, gnawing away at me as always.

For years, I watched him with women from a distance, then within touching distance when I felt brave enough. I’ve witnessed Owen in every position possible, sneaking peeks through his bedroom door at every opportunity. I’ve seen it all: the raw aggression he delivers when he fucks women into semiconsciousness, the way his handsome face twists in a battleof desire while he fights the urge to come, yet his release so euphoric the pure masculine beauty seeps from him with each muscle that relaxes. A perfect synchronization of unadulterated bliss.

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