Page 34 of Owen (Storm Enterprises)

My mouth falls open, then I sit up to stare down at him. “You knew how I felt about you.”

He clears his throat. “Felt?”

“Yes, felt.” I cross my arms over my chest.

He grinds his jaw and glares back at me. “Think I need to remind you, then.” His stare never wavers.

“Guess you do.” I lift my chin.

His fingers tangle in the ends of my hair and he tugs me toward him, lifting on his elbow so we’re flush. “Gonna spank that sass right out of your luscious ass, Laya.” His minty breath whispers over me, shrouding me with an all-consuming growl that sends a bolt of arousal through me and causes my nipples to peak.

His gaze darts down to my nipples, then his pupils dilate with want. “You can pretend you don’t want me, baby girl, but you know you do. Always have, always will. I own a piece of you, just like you own a piece of me.”

He releases my hair, leaving me breathless and begging for more of his possessiveness while he throws himself back on the pillow.

“She meant nothing to me. I broke it off the moment you left for Miami.”

“Why?” I fiddle with my hands, unsure if I want the answer.

He shrugs, then clears his throat. The moment his blue eyes latch onto mine, I know I will not like his answer, and my heart thuds heavily, waiting for it.

“So many things, Laya. Tate. Your mom. She had me promise I wouldn’t touch you until you were older and experienced life. I knew the moment I touched you, you’d be willing to throw it all away for me.” He’s right, I would have. “I wanted you to live, Laya. Enjoy yourself. Then I thought you’d come back to me. You’ve wanted me for as long as I can remember. I knew that, and I took advantage of it.”

I swipe away the tears that fall. “You didn’t take advantage of me.”

His jaw locks tight, and his temple pulsates. “I didn’t treat you right.” And I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s more meaning behind it than the obvious issue of him leaving me.

“You left me and made me feel like shit. Then I walked out to a crowd of people celebrating your engagement.” I swallow away the bile that threatens to spill over each time I replay it in my mind.

“I’m sorry, baby girl.” He knocks my hands away and wipes the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs. “So fucking sorry. I didn’t feel like I had a choice, Laya. I wanted what was best for you, and in my mind, that wasn’t me. The worst thing I ever did was allow you to believe I didn’t want you. But I swear to you”—he cups my cheeks in the palms of his heavy hands—” I promise you, baby girl, I’ll be your everything and so much fucking more. I’m going to spend every day of my fucking life devoted to you and my son, and you won’t regret a second of it, I promise.”

Part of me always knew my mom had stepped in and warned Owen to stay away, and out of respect, I knew he would listen, but that night, the night he took my virginity, I genuinely thought that changed everything for us. It did, but not in the way we both wanted.

Romero uses this moment to make a soft gurgling noise, and my attention is drawn toward him, a reminder of how the course of that night changed everything for me. And now, I wouldn’t change a damn thing about it.

Owen sighs, as if hearing my thoughts. “I should have been his father, Laya.” When I turn toward him, his focus is on Romero. “He should have been mine.” Then he turns to face me. “But I swear to God, I’ll be everything he deserves.” The sincerity in his words has my heart skipping a beat. “I’ll be the best father there is.”

I don’t doubt a word of it, not with the way his eyes drill into mine with power behind them. Owen is capable.

I just have to let him try.

Can I do that?

Do I even want it?

“Let me love you the way I should have, baby girl.”

A sob ripples through me, and he pulls me against this chest while my heart breaks all over again. He holds me tight into the night, until there’s no fight left in me and only the memories of before he broke us consume me, like most nights. Only this time, it’s different because he holds me when the nightmares come too.

SEVENTEEN

OWEN

“No. No. Stop it!”

I’m pulled from my sleep and fall straight into combat mode, like a light being flipped on. I’m alert and wide awake, but the girl beside me wrapped up in the bedsheets and tussling with them is far from awake. “Laya.” I nudge her gently. She’s so wrapped up in her nightmare that she doesn’t hear me trying to soothe her. “Baby girl.” Her skin is clammy, and with the illumination from the bathroom light, I can see her chest rising rapidly as she becomes more and more agitated.

“Laya!” I rock her harder this time, my voice deep enough to make her snap her eyes open. She whimpers, and I want to kick myself for the fear embedded in her eyes.

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