Page 23 of Taking The Virgin

Chapter9

After dryingmyself off and then hanging up my wet clothing near the sink, I walk into the bedroom of the plane. There’s almost no turbulence, just the calming hum of the engines and the sense of being almost weightless.

Sometimes the way Owen looks at me makes me think that he has real feelings. Why else does he want me to stay with him for an entire month?

But in the end, I still don’t understand the enigma that is Dr. Owen Gregory.

As I slip underneath the soft sheet and the dark blue bedcover, I sigh. I don’t know what kind of thread count this cotton has, but it must be decadent. I could really get used to it against my bareskin.

I smile giddily when I realize that I’ll be getting used to it for a whole month…

The shower stops, and my innate shyness has me pulling up that sheet to cover my breasts. It doesn’t matter that Owen has already become very well acquainted with them; I’m still new enough to sex that I blush furiously as I catch a glimpse of him in the bathroom stepping out of the shower: his tanned, sleek, taut body—shoulders, arms, legs, a tight, beautiful ass. Then he grabs a towel and driesoff.

I can barely wait for him to come to me. My heartbeat pounds out the slowly passing seconds.

When he stands in the doorway and leans against the frame, the bathroom light shines from behind him, making him a massive shadow. I can’t see his expression, but as he leans against the wall, I imagine him lustfully wolfing me down with his gaze. I lick my lips as I run my eyes down him in turn, then tilt my head when I see that he’s slung the towel around his hips. It rides low enough on him to be dangerous.

“Modest?” Iask.

“I thought, this time, I’d make you work for what’s underneath my towel. And it seems you have the sameidea.”

I grasp the sheet that covers me. “You’re not exactly what I’d call bashful. But you bought me because I came wrapped as a demure virgin.”

A low, rumbling growl comes from him once again, and I take in a breath. He begins to stalk toward me, slowly, methodically. A squeal of sexual anticipation builds in me as he gets closer…closer…

He stops at the end of the mattress, then tugs at the bedspread. It slips to the floor, leaving me with only the sheet to hide my nakedness. Desire plunges intome.

But then my cell phone rings.

I know the ringtone, too, and when I look at the screen, I see my sister Jasmine’s name. Fear and caution mix inside ofme.

Owen must see the sudden change in my mood because he only watchesme.

“I’ve got to take this,” I say. “It’s my youngest sister.”

He pauses, his expression blank. Then he turns toward a closet and goes to it as the phone keeps ringing. He’s tense, and I wonder if he’s callous enough to be angry because I’m turning him aside in favor of one of my siblings, not realizing I’m separated from them and that’s why I’mhere.

I can’t afford to think about it as he opens the closet, revealing a dimly lit row of suits. I answer thecall.

“Jazzie?”

“Jules?”

Emotion lodges itself in my throat when I hear the sweet voice of my eleven-year-old sister. And I almost start crying when I hear how upset she is. She’s weeping.

“Jazzie?” I pull the sheet tighter around me, swaddling myself. “Is everythingokay?”

She’s crying so hard that she can barely speak. “I miss you. I…I miss Mom andDad.”

Now my eyes well up, but I still hold back my sadness. I’ve always been strong for my siblings, but as the months pass, it’s harder and harder to stay thatway.

Near the closet, Owen has frozen.

“Oh, Jazzie,” I whisper. “I miss you, too. I miss them.” I swallow, but my throat feels as if it’s cracking. “I’m trying my hardest to make things better so we won’t have to miss each other at least.”

“I know. But…but I was just lying in bed, and all of a sudden I started thinking of when we would all go to the beach at night this time of year. Mom and Dad used to love it when the tourists went home and the locals would come out and have bonfires. If they were still alive, we’d be at one right now…together.”

The memory sifts through me like rough sand, scratching and leaving behind a burn. My eyes begin to sting, especially when I notice that Owen hasn’t moved a muscle. He seems stiff, uncomfortable, but I can’t just end the call with Jasmine.

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