Page 62 of Staying for You

My lips twist and I scrunch my nose. “Well, shit.”

He barks out a laugh. “Right.”

I truly don’t know what to do. Do I trust Owen? Yeah, I really do. I haven’t been with anyone for a very long time and I was tested the day after I asked for a divorce from Scott. Birth control is taken care of, but still… having sex without a condom with someone who I’m technically not in a relationship with feels very careless.

“There’s no pressure,” he tells me, sensing my inner turmoil. “If you’re not okay with it, we can do other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” I giggle.

He rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

“I appreciate that. What do you want to do?”

“Wrong question.”

I understand what he means. “Okay, how’s this. Do you trust me?”

“Yes. Do you trust me?”

I answer without hesitation the same as he did. “Yes.”

“Neither of us have been with anyone in a while. I’m on birth control and clean. If we trust each other…”

“I had my physical about six months ago and I was clean. Have the paper in my file if you want proof. I needed it for my insurance company.” His offer is sweet and maybe a little over the top, but sweet is taking over because I may have said I trust him, but he’s giving me further proof.

“I meant what I said. I trust you.”

He stands quickly, tugs me after him and then we’re on the move, down the hallway toward his bedroom. I look behind me and see the fire still going. “Do we need to worry about that?”

“It’ll be fine.”

Okay then.

We cross the threshold into his bedroom and he spins around, pressing me against the wall next to the open door. His hands pin mine above us and suddenly we’re ravenous. Biting and licking and sloppy kissing. I can’t get enough of him and he can’t get enough of me.

I cry out when he rips my shirt over my head, my hair flying all around me. And then he’s back on me. Pressing his hard body against me, I’m pinned between him and the wall and it’s an incredible place to be.

He runs the tip of his nose across my cheek and whispers huskily into my ear, “Don’t move. You hear me, Cami?”

“Yes,” I pant.

“Good girl.”

I’m so glad I’m a good listener because the way his tongue is twirling around my nipple as his hands work on his boxers to remove them from my body is making my knees go weak. Then he continues down his path and is on me and I’m reminded of how good his scruff feels between my legs.

I’m writhing against his mouth, doing my best to stay standing but everything he’s doing is too much. I grab the back of his head and he immediately stops, raising those deep hazel eyes to look up at me and raises his eyebrows to remind me that I had one job here and I’m currently not doing it.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just… keep going. Okay. Don’t stop.”

“I assumed that’s what the hand to the back of my head meant.”

“Owen,” I bark, impatient because what he was doing was fun and I want him to get back to it.

He chuckles and gets back to work, but only after my hands are back above my head. It’s a lot of work, standing upright and keeping my arms raised when I’m really not in great shape to begin with. Goodness. I need to do some pushups. Maybe a few curls with a five-pound dumbbell or something.

My arms are burning, my legs are quaking, and I know I’mdripping.I can feel his lips graze against my inner thighs and it makes my eyes roll into the back of my head. He picks up one of my legs and rests it on his shoulder. My back arches and eyes flutter close when his lips leave my thigh and moved to my center. Licking and sucking and inhaling.

“Owen.”

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