Page 44 of Pucking Secret

Millie hesitates, then takes another sip, her tired eyes never leaving his.

“There you go,” he praises, brushing a strand of damp hair from her forehead. “That’s my girl.”

My heart clenches so hard it’s difficult to breathe.

He lifts her into his arms, holding her gently against his chest, and carries her back to her bed. I follow silently, standingjust inside the doorway as he tucks her in. The small pink lamp on her side table casts a soft glow across the room. I don’t move further into the room, curious to see their interaction continue to play out. He’s so good with her—so natural. I hadn’t expected that from him.

“Which one tonight?” he asks, pulling a book from her shelf.

Millie’s voice is barely a whisper. “The one with the bear.”

He flips through the pages until he finds the right story. He settles onto the edge of her bed and reads to her in a soft, enchanting voice. I watch from the doorframe, arms wrapped around myself. Is this how it would’ve been, all these years, if he’d never left? If he’d been here all along to watch her take her first steps, say her first words, scrape her knee for the first time?

I don’t realize I’m crying until the story ends and Owen glances up, his gaze catching mine. I quickly swipe at my cheeks and step back, but he doesn’t call attention to it. Instead, he kisses Millie’s forehead and quietly gets up.

As we leave her room, he closes the door gently behind him. The soft click echoes in the quiet house.

“You look exhausted,” he says, turning to me.

“I’m fine,” I lie, though the weight of the night presses down on me like a weighted blanket.

He doesn’t say anything, just steps closer. Before I can protest, his hands find my waist, and the next thing I know, I’m being lifted into his arms.

“Owen—”

“Don’t argue,” he murmurs, his tone firm but gentle. “You need to rest.”

It’s both infuriating and endearing. I’m so tired, I don’t resist him. I don’t want to. For once, I want to be taken care of.

He carries me to my bedroom, his stride steady and sure, like I weigh nothing at all. When we reach the bed, he sets me down,his hands lingering on my arms for just a second longer than necessary.

“Stay,” I whisper, before I can stop myself.

The request surprises both of us. But I know that, deep down, it’s what I want. I want him.

His eyes search mine. “Stace…”

“Please,” I say, the word barely audible. “Just for tonight.”

The silence stretches between us, thick and charged. He grasps my hand and holds on tight.

“Okay.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: SHOW ME

STACEY

Gazing up at Owen,I know I’m walking into potentially dangerous territory here. I can’t seem to help myself. Seeing him with Millie—caring for her and treating her with such tenderness—awakened something in me. There’s some primal need burning me up. A desire that’s so intense, I couldn’t ignore it if I tried.

Taking hold of the front of his shirt, I tug him down to me.

“Do you know how badly I’ve been wanting this?” he whispers when our lips are a breath apart. “How much I want you?”

“Show me.”

He releases a short breath before pressing his lips to mine. His kiss is soft and gentle, and I melt for him. Slipping my hands up his chest, I cup his face, and we explore each other with our lips and tongues. I pull him with me onto the bed. When his body covers mine, I savor his warmth and weight. God, I missed this. Kissing Owen… touching him… feeling his hands on me. My body remembers his. He presses closer, my curves fitting perfectly against his hard ridges.

Owen moves his lips from my mouth to press kisses along my jawline, then down my throat. I’m glad I changed my sweatshirt because that puke stain would have really put a damper on the mood, and I don’t want this to stop. He slips his hand beneath my shirt and cups my breast. I wish I was wearing something better than my old sports bra—something sexy and lacy. I quickly push that thought aside. What does it really matter? Owen doesn’t seem to mind. He’s squeezing the soft mound and tweaking my nipple through my bra, and doesn’t seem all that focused on the material covering my breasts.

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