Page 93 of Altius
Even the silent Owen looked less than pristine for the first time in our acquaintance, marathon notwithstanding. His shirt was untucked, with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his toned forearms. And his tie was missing.
Which meant finders keepers.
Owen got up and headed into the bathroom to wash his face and hands.
Turning to Cal, I hedged my bets. “I’ll trade you two blowjobs—later,muchlater—if you grab Owen’s tie for me. I’ll throw in a bonus if you can get his cufflinks.”
Shaking his head, Cal gave me an indulgent smile. “What else have you snagged?”
“Just a polo shirt.” Stretching my back, I hissed, discovering my soreness verged on pain. “And Wyatt’s shorts, but he tried to take them back.”
“Nothing from Joaquin?”
“Can’t steal one of his leather jackets. That’s too noticeable.”
“I see. You only go for items we have multiples of.”
“Look how well you understand me.” Wrapping my arms around Cal’s shoulders, I rested my weight against him anddelivered my final kiss for the foreseeable future. “Now, be my pheromone stud in shining armor and take me to yonder tub.”
“Anything else, milady?” he asked, scooping me into a bridal carry.
“Water and my good pain meds,” I said, trying not to wince as each step revealed a new ache or pain. “And leave me to soak until I’m a human prune.”
“Want a snack plate—cheese cubes, grapes, the usual?”
“With those fancy pepper water crackers that Alijah bought?”
“Of course.”
“And that,” I said, giving my feet a happy little kick, “is why I love you.”
Twenty-Two
Owen
My necktie and cufflinks were missing.
I frowned at the empty spot on the shelf beside Morgan’s printer. Her home office was a compact but efficient space, the perfect base of operations for the past six days.
Except for the constant thefts.
I shot a withering glare at the rotund cat on the sofa. Tenny had dedicated most of the past week to swiping my pens and other small office supplies. My accessories had no doubt joined them.
Their disappearance didn’t bother me. It gave me a legitimate excuse to retreat across the hall. If only for an hour. To shower and change.
And savor the taste lingering on my tongue in private.
I needed to regroup. To process. Because there was a fatal flaw in my logic.
I had once again underestimated Morgan Van Daal.
The compulsion of her heated gaze. Her persuasive touches. The alluring softness of her breast filling my palm. All temptations hellbent on destroying my resolve.
But I’d held firm and focused on facilitating to the best of my ability, doing what was required according to her wishes. Ensuring the others were in sufficient physical condition to meether demands. Methodically checking every neat little box in the planning binder.
Until I was the last man standing…and I couldn’t hide from my baser instincts any longer.
The decadent omega curves, her silken skin—radiant after days of Alijah’s meticulous care—the flex of her toned stomach, the exquisite planes of her finely honed musculature.
