Page 38 of Owen (Storm Enterprises)

His shoulders relax and his lip twitches. “Let me show you.”

He throws open the double doors, and I follow him into the master bedroom. Soft grays and white adorn the walls, and the sheets covering the huge gray wooden bed are white. With one wall of the room mirrors and a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, it’s almost identical to the one I had in my parents’ home while growing up.

Placing Romero down, he marches toward what I’m guessing is the bathroom, and I follow him.

The room once again is in white and gray, modern and sleek, and everything I would have chosen, and again, I’m reminded how well Owen knows me, maybe better than I know myself.

He opens a door, and when my eyes latch onto the shelves, I’m stunned.

Every product I’ve ever used, every item I had when I left home, is on the shelves, all the items new and unopened.

He’s purchased everything.

“Owen, I …”

He scrubs a hand over his head, then drags a finger over his lip. “I wanted you to have everything you would need. Everything you always wanted. I didn’t want you to have any reason not to be here.” The vulnerability in his tone forces emotion to grip my chest, the feeling so profound, so strong, it takes me a moment to recover. “I didn’t want you to have any reason to leave me.” His gaze meets mine, and his eyes gleam with heartache, and for the first time since being eighteen, I see the love in his eyes.

Owen Stevens loves me.

“Owen.” I push up on my tiptoes and wrap my hands around his neck to pull him down. He lets me, of course he does, he always has.

Even when he shouldn’t have.

TWENTY

LAYA

SEVENTEENTH BIRTHDAY

The party is booming, and I survey over the crowd once again. Jealousy courses through me when I see one of the senior girls from my high school flirting with Owen. He throws his head back on a laugh, and I want nothing more than to cover his open mouth with mine. Instead, I’m stuck staring at them, drilling holes into the back of her perfect head. As if sensing me, his gaze darts over toward me and his eyes narrow. He peruses my body and slowly licks his lips, then he jolts and sits up before moving to his feet. With one last glance over his shoulder toward me, he walks inside the house, and I know exactly where he’s going. The games room.

His eyes tell me to follow him. My heart hammers painfully, knowing I’m about to be rejected, yet I don’t listen. I never do. Because I want Owen more than anything else in the world.More than school, more than my friends, more than the design scholarship I’m working so hard to gain. He’s my air, and if I don’t have him, then I simply can’t breathe.

I swallow the fruity punch in my hand, and without another thought, I push past a group of drunken high schoolers and make my way toward the games room.

My heart hammers in my chest as I saunter through the empty house. When I reach the door, I take a deep breath to steel myself. Then I adjust the little red dress, pull my shoulders back, and slip into the room.

“You shouldn’t be in here, Laya.” His gravelly voice sends a tremor through me as he pushes off the wall from behind me. He downs the scotch in his hand, then walks toward the lone armchair, places the empty cup on the table, and throws himself down.

“It’s a games room, Owen. Maybe I want to play games.”

His loud chuckle fills me with happiness only he can achieve, yet it’s mocking. His head tips back as he faces the ceiling. “You sure know how to play games, Laya.” He drops his head to face me, the seriousness of his tone now written all over his handsome face.

I roll my eyes.

“You’re one to talk.” I cross my arms over my chest, and it pushes my tits up. His gaze quickly darts away from the action, and I smile inside at how uncomfortable my body makes him. Owen wants me. He just doesn’t want to want me.

“I’m an adult.” He speaks so low I almost don’t hear him, almost like he’s speaking to himself, reminding himself.

My feet move in his direction, like a magnet drawing me in until I’m standing in front of him. When his tattooed hand touches the hem of my dress, I wiggle from side to side as my panties dampen from the heat radiating from him.

“You’ve no idea how tempting you are, do you?” His eyes search mine. “You make me want to be a bad man, Laya, and that outcome is deadly for the both of us.”

I tilt my head, trying to figure out what he’s saying. “How so?”

“Because men like me shouldn’t play with girls like you.”

“I told you I like to play.”

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