Page 72 of Taking The Virgin

In the moment before my brothers and sister put down their surf gear and clamor over to him, I turn around to see the man Ilove.

My husband.

He’s still impressive in a navy designer suit, still tall and imposing and dark in so many ways, but his gaze is aglow as it meets mine. A low vibration warms my belly during that one, hot, fleeting second.

Then the kids smack into him. Jazzie hops into his arms, and even though she’d be too big for most other men to handle with such ease, Owen lifts her as if she’s a feather.

“Owen, you can go surfing with us now!” Jason yells.

“Yeah,” Jake echoes, “come on! Let’s get in some boardtime!”

Jazzie merely hugs him tight, and my heart melts.

“How about tomorrow?” Owen asks, laughing at their puppy-doglike enthusiasm. “I only just stepped off thejet.”

As they try to talk him into going now, Nat comes up beside me. We exchange a subtle yet joyous smile that says it all: Who knew that Owen would someday come out from behind his walls to be this kind of a father figure to anyone, much less a bunch of noisy, sloppy kids? Who knew that he’d be this relaxed, confident, loving, and kind—a man who conquered his demons?

I knew, because even during our darkest times, I could see flashes of the good-hearted man beneath all those icy barricades he put up around himself. I could see glimpses past everything he built to protect himself from the chaos of his past and the world aroundhim.

Even his parents, who’ve made such strides in their treatment back in their New York home, would agree.

Nat, as efficient as always, moves forward to greet Owen and then cajole the kids into leaving.

“How about a compromise?” she asks as she opens the door. “Today you can have a short surf sesh amongst yourselves, tomorrow a longer one withOwen.”

The boys grumble a little about how Owen shouldn’t ever turn down some good waves as they grab their gear and leave. After Owen puts Jazzie down, she gives him one last hug before scrambling to get her stuff and follow her big brothers and Nat out thedoor.

That leaves Owen and me, finally alone. My heartbeat seems too loud, bouncing off the marble and right back at me with breath-stealing thuds. From the hot look in eyes, he’s feeling it, too.

Then I run to him, and he swoops me into his arms, burying his face in myhair.

“God,” he says. “I couldn’t stay away from you another hour. I had to get back home, give you a surprise.”

Home.

Ours.

“They say absence makes the heart grow fonder,” I murmur against his cheek, where stubble is beginning to scratch. “But I don’t know how my heart could get any fonder ofyou.”

With a growl, he draws me into a kiss, and I go liquid in his arms. I feel a sense of forever in the way his lips caress mine, in the way he holds me, promising that he’s always going to come back tome.

When the door suddenly opens and Jazzie scoots back inside, laughing as she sees us and running to grab the wetsuit that she left behind, Owen continues to holdme.

“Bye, you lovey-dovey birds!” she says, a sweet little storm coming and going and slamming the door behindher.

After we laugh again, I cup his face in my hands. I can feel his heart beating against me, but I think my own pulse is going faster.

“Talk about a mess,” I say. “Jazzie’s a hotone.”

“Sometimes I think we’ve got four hot messes to varying degrees.”

My throat tightens as I see the affection in his gaze, not just for me, but for all ofus.

I swallow, because I have something else to tell him. Something I’ve been waiting to share until he gothome.

“How would you feel,” I whisper, “if we had five hot little messes in this house?”

For a moment, it’s as if he has no idea what I’m talking about. Then his gaze becomes tender, surprised.

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