Page 89 of Love on the Waiver Wire

“You have a hand mixer, right?”

I nod, directing him to the drawer it’s kept in. When he finds it, he comes back, pouring some cream into a large bowl before adding some sugar and some vanilla.

He starts to mix it, and I get up from my spot at the counter and come up next to him, watching the magic happen.

“It’s really that simple?”

“Yep.”

When he’s done, he quickly washes off the mixer and puts it away before returning to the bowl. “Have you tried it yet?” he asks, scooping some with his finger.

“No, I was waiting for you.”

He grins, scooping some more up and holding it up for me.

I’m not sure what goes through my mind, but in a split second I decide to have some fun.

My tongue comes out, licking up his finger slowly before taking the whole thing into my mouth, my eyes never once wavering from his.

Owen shifts, a hunger settling in his gaze that I’ve only seen twice before.

“You like it?” he asks, his voice low and gravely.

“Loved it,” I whisper, taking my finger and dipping it into the mixture myself. I hold it up, examining it for a second, all too aware of his eyes zeroed in on me.

I look back at him, making sure our eyes are locked as I bring my finger to my neck, smearing it up the side.

“You know, I’m so clumsy,” I say, throwing my hands up. “that was meant for you, I’ll just go clean up—” I go to move for a paper towel, and like I hoped he would, Owen stops me, his control slipping from his grasp.

I can see it in his eyes. It’s been almost eleven weeks, and yet all he’s been is a perfect gentleman.

I don’t want a perfect gentleman right now.

“Hold still,” he demands as he runs his fingers up the back of my neck, digging them into my hair and curling them to keep me in place. Pulling my head to the side, he exposes my neck more.

Without a second thought, his head dips down, his tongue darting out to lick my neck clean.

A shiver runs down my spine as my mouth parts, a soft moan escaping.

When he pulls away, Owen looks feral.

In an instant I’m pinned against the counter, his mouth next to my ear.

“I want you to tell me this is a bad idea,” he says as he leans even closer, the spicy scent of his cologne enshrouding me, my head spinning.

As much as I want my mouth to form the words, I can’t bring them to. Seconds pass as his dark eyes stare into mine, and when his eyes flutter to my lips, his teeth peeking out to bite them, I can’t take it anymore.

“This is a bad idea,” I whisper, unable to meet his eyes. “It may be a horrible idea, actually.”

I look away, a strand of hair falling from where it was clipped up. In the moment of weakness I’m happy to have something to shield me, but when his fingers leave my waist and grab my chin, forcing my eyes back on his, I feel like the world stops.

When his fingers move up the side of my cheek to tuck my hair behind my ear, I feel the ground beneath me drop.

“Tell me this is a bad idea,” Owen’s voice drops, “and mean it this time.”

Instead of answering, I kiss him.

Hard.

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