Page 58 of Sparks Still Fly

Owen turns off the vibrator and stands over me. “I’m taking this with me. If you’re gonna scream my name when you have an orgasm, I’m gonna be the one giving them to you.” He turns off the lamp and walks away. “Sweet dreams, Maevey.” The door clicks shut, and I’m left stunned, speechless. But also perfectly sated and sleepy. So I let sleep come and decide to deal with Owen and how I’ll get my vibrator back tomorrow.

32/

completely, ultimately, relentlessly.

owen

I have definitely lost my fucking mind. But how could I not? She was moaning in the room next to mine, and whether she was doing it on purpose to drive me fucking crazy, or she’s really just that clueless to how loud she is...

My mind goes back to that night at the beach. I guess she’s still loud.

It was too much. Pure torture, having to listen to her after seeing her like that on the kitchen counter.

Now I’m standing here with her vibrator in my hand, reliving the last twenty minutes in vivid detail, which is most definitely not helping the very hard situation in my pants. I allow myself another minute before springing into action.

Walking to my bathroom, I wash her vibrator and leave it on the countertop on a clean towel to dry while I have my second cold shower of the day. Once I’m clean and settled the fuck down, I put the toy in the drawer of my nightstand and collect some things for Maeve: a toothbrush and paste, a T-shirt and pants. She won’t have clean clothes, and I sure as fuck don’t need to see her nearly naked again.

Except you absolutely do need to see her naked.

I shake off the thought and leave the bundle of clothes just inside her door. I decide to try to sleep this off, knowing full well there is no sleeping off what I feel for Maeve.

It’s still dark when I roll over in bed, momentarily relieved that I actually managed to sleep a little, but incredibly frustrated by the fact that I dreamed of Maeve the entire time.

Despite the fact that the clock tells me it’s just past 4 a.m., I go through my morning routine of washing my face and brushing my teeth before throwing on workout shorts, a cut-off shirt, and my running shoes. I can hopefully get a workout in before Maeve wakes up. I need to let out some of whatever the fuck this is that’s making my entire body hum and vibrate.

No such luck for me today, though, because as I walk into my kitchen, there she is. My pants rolled at the waistband and still almost falling off her hips, and my T-shirt tied into a knot at her waist. Her hair is a tangled mess, and her feet are bare as she pours tea into a cup. God, she’s fucking perfect.

“Fancy a cuppa?” she asks without turning back to look at me.

Something between a groan and a growl leaves my mouth, and I clear my throat. “Yes. Please.” She nods in response and takes the cup that was already next to hers to fill next.

“How d’you take it? And don’t say black because that’s just disgusting.” She’s still facing away from me, moving slowly. In her tired state, her voice is groggy, and her British accent comes out to play more than usual.

“Same as you, then,” I respond. That gets her head swiveling toward me, but she doesn’t make eye contact. Facing the cups in front of her, she nods again, pouring a small amount of milk and sugar into each cup.

Then she pivots around. Both cups of tea in her hand, her eyes down on them as she concentrates on not spilling any of the precious liquid. Her face is slightly flushed, and she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth as she walks. Damn it, it’s impossible not to want her. Especially like this. When she lets down all her guards, takes off all her armor, strips off the makeup so I can really see her, that’s when I want her most. That’s when it feels like loving Maeve is inevitable. Inescapable.

When she sets the cups on the island, she finally looks up at me, sitting and spinning on her stool to face me. I keep my body against the island but twist my head to look at her. My hands stay firmly on my cup, not needing the additional temptation to touch her.

“How’d you sleep?” She smirks, so completely enjoying my blatantly obvious discomfort with this whole situation. She doesn’t wait for my answer. “I had a great sleep. I guess I was sort of tired last night after the whole flying rat thing, you know?” She runs her finger along the handle of her cup, then looks up at me again, her blue eyes shining.

“Though, I suppose the orgasm care of the Greek Irishman who broke into my room last night probably had something to do with it, too.” She doesn’t break eye contact. Her voice doesn’t crack, and her composure is unwavering. It almost feels practiced.

“How long did you rehearse that line in the mirror before you delivered it just now?” My question has her teetering, but only slightly. Her eyes narrow, and I know she won’t answer me. “Better question. How many times have you touched yourself while you think about me?”

She takes a quick breath in. “I’ll answer that question as soon as you do, O.”

Her sass, and her calling me O, get me to turn in my seat and I pull her stool closer to mine, just like last time we were sitting here like this. My legs cage hers, her knees brush against the insides of my thighs.

“I’ve lost count because it’s every time. Every. Fucking. Time, Maevey.” I watch as her eyes widen, pupils dilating.

“Why do you say things like that to me?” Her eyes flick to my lips, then back up, as if she’s trying to catch me in a lie. She won’t.

“Because I mean them. Because I’m not just trying to fuck with you like you’re trying to fuck with me. Because I don’t have a reason to resent you and make you pay for mistakes made years ago. Because it’s always been you, Maeve. Always. Everywhere. I can’t escape you, and I wouldn’t even if I could. I say those things to you because I’m yours. Completely, ultimately, relentlessly. Yours. I always have been.” I can’t tell if she’s still breathing. I’m not sure I am. “Do you have any other questions?”

Her chest heaves with the quick breaths she finally takes in, but to her credit, her eyes never leave mine. After finding whatever she’s looking for, she nods, swallows, and then sits up straighter. “So many.”

“Ask away. I promise to answer you honestly.” I rest my hands on her hips, maybe to steady her. Maybe to steady myself.

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