Page 19 of Yield to Me

“I ordered a brownie too,” the customer barked.

I reassured him that it was on its way. “Brownie boy wants his goods,” I said to Clay as soon as I was behind the counter. He pulled one out of the bakery display and put it in a pastry bag. Part of me wanted to ask Owen to come straight to the café, pick me up from work, to rub it in Clay’s face. I’ll do whatever the hell I want, I thought. Even if Clay had my best interest at heart, it irritated me when people tried to tell me what to do with my life. I had taken care of my mother since before I was a teenager, had worked my way through college, paid for my own tuition, even when Grayson offered to pay for it. I had gotten my bachelor’s degree all by myself. I didn’t need anyone’s advice. I’ll screw Owen Lowell if I want to, I thought.

But part of me wondered if Clay was right, if I was making a mistake by pursuing Owen. But my heart and the heat between my legs knew what it wanted.

Sitting in my car, I straightened my pants, more to wipe the sweat from my palms than to fix my appearance. You’re not nervous, I told myself, You shouldn’t be nervous. It was just Owen, and even if I thought about what it would be like to have his hands gripping my shoulders, pressing me into a wall as he fucked me with all he had, I didn’t owe him anything. We were equals. We both knew what we were there for.

I looked at the house and sighed. Not an ivory tower, but the property was massive like a castle, stretching over the top of a large hill, looking as if each section of the property had its own headquarters. It was painted white with dark chocolate trim, and curtains were pulled against the windows. It was the kind of place where you knew the homeowner, or castle owner for that matter, had several staff members working and living on the property, maintaining the landscape and its cleanliness, making sure dust never landed anywhere near an open surface.

I shook my head. He was not someone I wanted to date. I didn’t need another wealthy know-it-all in my life; Grayson had been enough to fill that spot for four lifetimes. I planned to make that clear to Owen, to make sure we had an agreement. And if what Clay said was true about Owen’s dating habits, then it wouldn’t be an issue for Owen.

I shuffled my feet as I waited for him to answer the door. I felt understated standing on the front porch of his mansion. A loose black cardigan covered my shoulders, with a navy blue halter dress underneath it. I hadn’t had time to do much more than shower and head over, but I hoped the dress made up for the lack of makeup.

The door opened. Light filtered through the hallway, silhouetting Owen. He stepped forward; a dress shirt exposed a small tuft of chest hair snaking out between two undone buttons. Dress pants adorned his legs; he wasn’t wearing a belt. It was almost like pajamas. Formal pajamas.

“I take it you’re down for Netflix and chill?” I joked, forcing an awkward smile.

“I can be comfortable in my own home,” he said. He grinned and motioned me inside. “Please.”

This time, he led me up the stairs to a large den, a fireplace crackling to the side. Leather couches circled around the center, the cushions so plump they looked like they could swallow a person. I sat down, sinking in, and Owen handed me a bottled water.

“Owen,” I started, my hand holding the cap of the bottle. I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands. “I want to be clear about what we’re doing.” He nodded, his hands resting on the arms of the couch. “I know you typically,” I paused, debating how to relay the rumors I had heard delicately, without offending him, “date around, rather than settling into a longer…” I paused again, “arrangement.” He nodded. “Can you tell me why?”

His expression stayed the same, unphased by my questioning. But he took a deep breath before he answered. “I’m more concerned with my career than matters of the heart,” he said. “I don’t know how long I’ll be on the west coast. I never planned on staying here. But like everyone else, I have needs. I find women who can fulfill those needs, and whose needs I can satisfy as well.” I blushed, wondering if he was hinting at my own coming gratification. “I’ve had long term relationships before. I haven’t found any interest in them since then.”

“Me too,” I said. I knew his relationship was likely longer and more mature than my own teenage romance, but at least we were on a similar page. “Luckily, I’m not looking for a relationship either. I want to have fun. I want to see you. I want to—” I paused; what was the correct word? “—explore with you,” I said slowly. With Clay’s concerns, I expected Owen to balk at the conversation, but Owen’s posture was straight and relaxed. He didn’t seem scared of my questions at all. He was completely comfortable, even as I dictated the terms of our—what would you call it? Relationship? Involvement? Arrangement? Agreement seemed the most honest. Rules we could both agree to.

“You’re in it for the sex,” he said.

I flushed. “Sure,” I said quickly.

Owen stood up and walked closer to me. His presence loomed above me, staring me down. “But I need something too, Riley. I need to know that when we’re together, you’re mine completely, body and soul. I don’t need you at any other time, but I need to know that when you’re with me, you will trust me. You will give all of yourself to me.”

The words hung between us like humid summer air. I could smell him, that earthy scent, with a hint of sweat. The man has more sexual allure than a wind farm had energy. His eyes focused on my lips, and his own twitched open. I swallowed nervously, and he held out his hand.

“What if I don’t want to?” I asked. The thought of the blood and bruises I had seen at Surrender, added to the emotional equivalent of being forced to submit? I had no idea what that part entailed, the emotional part, and what scared me was that it seemed more intense than physical pain. I wasn’t sure if I could handle any of it. But I thought about the way Owen had gripped my hair like horse reins when he kissed me, how badly I wanted to prove myself, to please him. I guess the need to please him came out of a selfish desire, wanting to see what he could do to me, what I could endure. At least, that’s what I told myself. In the end, I knew I wanted to give myself to him, but I wasn’t sure what that meant. I was scared of the unknown, of giving up my own agency. I wasn’t the kind of person to do something someone else wanted unless it was what I wanted too. “What if I can’t give up everything?” I whispered.

“That’s your decision,” he said.

I sucked in my breath, then took his hand. The warmth of his touch sent an electric surge all the way to my neck. He held my gaze like he was searching for answers, his green eyes wading through my mind, finding what he wanted. What I wanted.

So I followed him deeper into the house.

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