Page 37 of Homecoming

When he finally lifted his head, the sight of him—wild-haired and smug—sent a fresh spark of want through her. He crawled back up her body, bracing himself on one elbow, and stared down into her eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked, his tone half-teasing, half-serious, like he genuinely wasn’t sure she could handle more.

“I’m perfect,” she said, wrapping her legs around his hips and pulling him closer. He grinned—a rare, unguarded smile that made her heart flip—but then he pulled back, a wince crossing his face.

“I don’t have a condom,” he said. “This was not what I expected to do today,” he admitted.

“I have condoms!” she said, waving a hand at her bedside table.

Owen leaned over, and she had to admire the strength of him. He was long and lean, with very little extra fat on him. Actually, he could stand to gain a few pounds. There was a scar on his back… Before she could investigate, he chuckled, and Grace realized where she’d sent him. “Hey, a girl has to have friends.”

“Pink and purple and jeweled friends, apparently,” he laughed. But he had an unopened box of condoms in his hand. His eyes met hers for a long, considering moment before he ripped the box open and fished one out. Levering back to sit on his heels, he ripped the package open and rolled the condom down his hard length.

Grace opened her arms as he tossed the trash away, and sighed as he settled on top of her again. He felt so good to her. Like this was where he belonged.

Quite naturally, the head of him rested at her entrance. With a tiny little arch, she guided him in. Groaning, Owen pushed into her, slow and steady, stretching her in a way that stole her breath.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his head dropping to her shoulder as he bottomed out. “You feel—so good.” His voice was tight, like he was barely holding it together, and Grace couldn’t help the smug satisfaction that curled through her. She clenched around him,just to see him unravel a little more, and he groaned, his hips twitching.

“Move,” she whispered, nipping at his ear, and that was all the permission he needed. He pulled back and thrust into her again, harder this time, setting a rhythm that was deep and deliberate, like he was staking a claim. Each stroke sent sparks racing up her spine, the friction of his body against hers igniting every nerve.

Grace met him thrust for thrust, her nails digging into his back as she chased the edge again. He was relentless, his breath hot against her neck, muttering broken words—her name, curses, pleas—that only fueled her higher. “Grace—shit—I’m not gonna last,” he warned, his pace faltering as he fought for control.

“Don’t,” she gasped, tightening her legs around him. “Let go.” She wanted to feel him lose it, to know she’d undone him the way he’d undone her. With a guttural groan, he slammed into her in a quick succession of thrusts, his release hitting hard as he pulsed inside her. The heat of it, the way he trembled above her, tipped her over the edge again, a softer, rolling climax that left her clinging to him as they rode it out together.

For a moment, they just lay there, tangled and breathless, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex. Owen pressed his forehead to hers, his chest heaving, and when he finally opened his eyes, there was something raw and unguarded in them that made her heart ache.

“Still think we’re doing this in the wrong order?” she teased, her voice hoarse but playful.

He huffed a laugh, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Maybe. But I’m not complaining.”

THIRTEEN

Owen was shook.

He stared up at the copper-plate ceiling, with Grace sprawled across him. She was soft and delicious, and a wonderful heat against the chill of the room.

They’d made love twice, and he felt the tingle again as he remembered the look of her riding him. That had been… incredible. And unexpected. Holding her breasts as he looked up at her. And her hips had filled his hands so well.

Fuck, he was in trouble.

Maybe it was this amazing because it had been so long since he’d done it?

No, he wouldn’t dismiss what they’d done like that.

She shifted and looked up at him. A smile spread her lips. “If you want to go clean up, I have an amazing jacuzzi tub for achy bones. I think I’ve officially worn you out today.”

Owen snorted, but he didn’t disagree with her. His poor body had been used more than normal today.

“And while you’re doing that, I’ll get the bread warmed up and we can have soup.”

His stomach growled, and she snorted as she used him for leverage to sit up. “Yeah, I thought so.”

Owen watched as she stepped from the bed, completely bare ass naked. And completely unconcerned. He felt no shame as he watched her walk to a chest of drawers, pull on a pair of panties and a purple t-shirt. Grace had amazing breasts, and he was very glad she didn’t put on a bra.

Owen debated on taking a bath, but when he saw the jacuzzi, basically a mini-hot tub, the thought of sitting in a tub of scalding water and letting his bones and joints relax was more than he could deny. Turning the taps, he grabbed a towel from the cupboard. He hated the cold. As he sank down into the water a few minutes later, he knew this was going to feel good. The water was so hot it made him shiver, but he lowered himself down in, his lower back centered over two jets in the seat. Immediately, he felt his muscles begin to loosen. He sighed out the tension in his body. Holy hell. Maybe they needed to get a hot tub up on the mountain. He would pay his own personal money if he could enjoy this every night.

He must have dozed off because when he opened his eyes, Grace was hovering over him. “Just making sure you hadn’t died, or anything.”

Owen huffed out a breath. “I could right this second. Very happily. How long have I been in here?”

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