Page 61 of Staying for You

“Yeah?” His head is turned to face me and his hands are resting on my legs, his face is scruffy from what I imagine is a few days of not shaving. Though, come to think of it, since I met him, he’s always had a nice layer of scruff covering his face. When he was between my legs, I noticed it. Loved it. Felt it through my core how incredible that little bit of facial hair is.

I let my fingers roam through it. It’s the oddest combination of coarse and soft. Scott always kept his face completely clean of any facial hair. Though, I think the reason for that was more because he couldn’t grow a full beard if his life depended on it.

The differences between the two men is staggering.

Where Scott was soft, Owen is hard.

Owen’s body is built from years of hard labor.

Scott’s body is built from years of getting manicures and meeting friends for lunch and drinking beer on the golf course.

Owen is understanding and doesn’t throw what I think are my flaws against me like Scott did, always trying to bring me down several notches. Rather, he shows me the goodness in those things and compliments me on them.

I lived for eight years being led to believe that I couldn’t do better than Scott and that he was what I was worthy of. That my lot in life was to give up myself for someone else without receiving anything in return.

I’ve been in Owen’s presence for eight days and I know that was a lie. He makes me feel like I’m allowed to get back if I give. That I’m a good person for caring for others. Even without knowing, I know Owen would sooner cut off a foot than make me feel like my faults defined me.

“You’re a good, good man, you know that?”

He groans good naturedly. “Is that the equivalent of calling a guy nice?”

I smile, lean over, and kiss him lightly on the lips. “It’s far better.”

He doesn’t let me get too far, taking over the kiss and keeping me close. It starts slow, exploring and testing each other as if it’s our first time. Our heads tilt side to side as we learn what each other likes. His hands slide into my hair and his fingertips dig ever so slightly into my scalp. I’ve noticed he likes my hair, touching it and even smelling it when he doesn’t realize I notice.

Owen’s large body moves over top of me, laying me back against the couch. Our hands link together above our heads as our mouths fuse together. But then it turns hot and heavy and we’re both moaning and ripping our hands away so we can touch skin. I love that he takes control. Likes what he likes and isn’t shy about twisting me and moving me around to please him but in doing so, pleasing me, too. He’s always watching me, paying attention to the signs that I give him as to what I like. And we’ve barely been together but I know it to be true. He’s attentive and focused on learning what I like.

He grumbles and curses the blanket I’m still partially wrapped in, lifting his body up slightly so he can rip it away and toss it aside. I hear a glass tip over and liquid spill but he doesn’t seem to care, or maybe he doesn’t notice. Either way, neither of us pay it any attention as we continue to kiss and touch and grope.

Beneath his too big for me boxer briefs, I’m naked. The cotton material is smooth and velvety against my skin; it’s highly erotic, or maybe intimate. Wearing his clothes, his smell surrounding me. If he would slide his hand right between my legs and find me wet and waiting for him.

“I want you,” I whisper, tilting my head back to allow for him to kiss my neck. He pays special attention to the area where my neck meets my shoulder and oh my gosh it’s incredible. An erogenous zone I never knew about myself until Owen came along and blew everything I once thought out of the water.

“I want you, too,” he says and I can feel his breath and smile against my skin and it’s enough to make me squirm and wiggle around, needing him to press against me so I can find some relief.

“Bedroom? I want space to play.”

He raises his head to look down at me and what I see in his face makes my stomach twist. “I fucked up.”

“Huh?” I ask, panicked.

“I told you it’d been a while? I’m not necessarily… prepared.”

“For what?”

He sits up and I do the same. Motioning between us, he explains, “For this.”

“Use your words, Owen,” I sass.

“Understand what I’m saying, Cami,” he smarts back with a hint of tease.

I watch as he raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to clue in. “Condom?” I guess.

“Yes.”

“You don’t have any?”

“Nope.”

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