Page 102 of Love Me Tomorrow

He moves slowly at first, like he’s set on making me beg. His tatted knuckles plant themselves on either side of my head, in plain sight. I feel him moving behind me, within me, and I make it a point to buy this room a mirror so I can see him take me the next time.

The next time.

Like this home isn’t a rental in the making.

Like this mismatched furniture that he picked out just for me, forus, won’t be ours for the long haul.

But then those slow thrusts gain momentum, and “fuck me back, Rose,” is grunted out from behind me, and I do just that. I arch my back and prop myself up on my elbows and I drive myself backward to meet every plunge of his hips.

My breasts, small as they are, sway forward with each slap of our hips colliding, and I snake out one hand to wrap around his wrist, to have that connection tethering us together. Everything about this moment is raw and animalistic, and I’m almost not even surprised when I feel his weight leverage forward, so that every one of his thrusts drives forward to hit me just right.

“Owen,” I moan, throwing my head back. There’s the graze of his piercing, and the delicious friction of his cock, and then he’s gone, and I’m being shifted onto my side. He tucks himself behind me, his big body spooning mine. He drags my thigh over his hips, drops a kiss to my neck, and enters me again on a single thrust.

Another moan reverberates in my chest as I coil the sheet in my hand.

If having him take me on all fours was heaven, then this is somehow better. I’m stretched open, splayed wide to his ministrations. His hand grips my waist, tight and possessive. I lean my head back into the cradle of his left arm, which is propping my head up, turning just so in a silent request for a kiss.

He gives it to me without question, driving his tongue into my mouth. The kiss is messy and desperate and when his hand slips down my stomach to find my clit, it’s his mouth that captures my cry, his cock that captures the spasm of my core.

“Please,” I whisper, pulling back long enough to let the word slip past my lips. “Please.”

Owen’s thrusts turn hard, his hips pistoning into mine, two of his fingers circling my clit, and it’s too much all at once. Too much pleasure. Too much sensation. Too muchOwen. My orgasm splinters through me, dividing and conquering, and the man surrounding me only chuckles, low and raspy, before angling his hips to hit me deeper.

He comes with a groan, his hips still slamming into me, the sounds of sex percolating in the room.

It’s only when our heart rates have slowed that Owen lifts his head, takes a look around, and announces, “Good news: we’ve fulfilled your wish. The comforter is on the floor.”

I whisper my fingers over his forearm, which is still wrapped around my waist. “Is there bad news?”

I feel him kiss the soft skin behind my ear, right over my bird tattoo. “Just that I don’t think I was bad enough for you—you got me a little sentimental—which means we’re gonna have to redo everything, unfortunately. Comforter is going back into place. My shorts gotta come back on. We’ll start from the top. Count this round as a dress rehearsal.”

I giggle—actually,giggle—at the smugness in his voice. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” he rasps, “it is so.”

“Well, then.”

He licks the shell of my ear, theoneplace he knows where I’m ticklish, and then tucks his feet around mine before I can thrash against him. “For the record, I’m pretty sure my neighbor caught you jacking me off in the truck, which means the next neighborhood crawfish boil is bound to be interesting.”

Laughter bubbles up out of me. “Good thing you’ll be going on your own, then.”

Owen rolls over on top of me, pressing my back into the mattress. His nose grazes mine as he pins me to the bed with his hands and feet. “Correction, sweetheart, it’s a good thing you’ll be goin’ as my date so you can take full responsibility for your actions.”

I raise my brows. “What a taskmaster, you are.”

He grins, a wide, happy smile that fills my heart with joy. “I know,” he murmurs, brushing his mouth over mine in an indulgent kiss, “I let the entire city of N’Orleans down by dropping out of the police academy. Just think about what I would have looked like in my uniform.”

“You could borrow Gage’s.”

“Good plan. How about I get some practice in now?” Mischief gleams in Owen’s gaze as he stares down at me. “You’ve been a naughty, naughty girl, Miss Rose . . .”

I don’t hear the rest of what he says—I’m laughing too hard, holding onto him a little too tightly, and loving life in a way that I never have before.

30

Owen

Walking into Rose & Thorn, Savannah’s hand clasped within mine, feels a bit like strolling into the lion’s den and expecting for things to not turn into a bloodbath by the first course.

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