Page 121 of Puck Prince

Now, though, I can’t lie to myself. I can’t sit still. I can’t wait for him to find me.

Moving means I’m less easy to track down. If I’m never in one place for too long, I’m less traceable. Is running away the best way to live my life? Probably not. But it’s not like I’m lousy with options right now.

Plus, Kennedy’s other reason to stay is that Owen Sharpe is right next door. Which is great for the next few weeks as we continue tap dancing on the ashes of the “no sex” rule we put into place, but this arrangement is temporary.

Isn’t it?

Then again, I fell asleep on his bare chest last night, and despite the way I snuck out of his bed, I would’ve been happy to stay there permanently. Those feelings have me wondering just how temporary this all is.

And, even more than that, how temporary Iwantit to be.

I lose myself for a few dreamy moments in the image of a long-term fling with Owen. Maybe even a relationship. There would be a lot of nights like last night, and a lot of mornings where I didn’t have to sneak out of his bedroom in his clothes.

The trouble is, one thing that is not temporary in any way is the baby growing inside of me. Telling him our random hookup resulted in a baby might be the nail in the coffin for whatever this thing brewing between us is, and it’s only a matter of time before I can’t hide it anymore.

An apartment of my own and being more independent will make figuring that whole mess out much easier. At least for a while.

I bring the collar of Owen’s shirt to my lips and take a sniff. I bite my bottom lip to hold back a groan.God, that man smells good.

And there’s my cue to get dressed. It’s positively indecent to still be wearing it.

I strip down completely before realizing I didn’t bring my clothes for the day into the bathroom. They’re still in my suitcase in the living room next to my quote-unquote “bed.” Another reason I need to move out: I am living out of a suitcase.

I hear the front door open and close, which must mean Kennedy has left and the coast is clear.

So I make my way out to the living room in my birthday suit.

“Well, that’s certainly one way to say, ‘Good morning.’”

This time, I nearly come out of my skin (since it’s the only thing I’m wearing) at the unexpected deep voice coming from the couch.

“Jesus Christ!” I scream, whirling to find Owen lounged back on my pull-out bed. “How did you get in here?”

“Kennedy let me in as she was leaving.”

“I’m naked!” I announce, pointing out the painfully obvious.

“I did notice that.” He is ballsy enough to grin.

I try to tug the throw blanket off the couch so I can cover up, but he’s inconveniently sitting on it. “Do you mind?”

“A bit, actually, yeah.”

“Owen!”

Chuckling, he lifts his ass off the throw so I can wrap it around myself like a toga. I snatch my things from my bag, skewer him with the nastiest glare I can muster, and stomp back down the hall.

“What are you doing here?” I demand from the bathroom.

“I’m going with you.”

“With me where?”

“Kennedy said you’re going apartment hunting. I decided I’m coming, too.”

I peek my head out the door. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

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