“I haven’t had a serious girlfriend in a long time,” he started.
“Temperance?” I asked, raising a brow.
“Yes, her,” he said. “But…I’m falling for you, Delia. Hard and fast. Actually, I think I’ve been half in love with you for months. I realize we only just started this thing together, but I want to do it all with you. Business partners. Life partners. The whole fucking thing. I want to take you to Dusk Valley to meet my family. I want to wake up with you every morning and fall asleep with you in my arms every night. I know you’re younger than me, so maybe that’s not something you want right now, but…I’m old enough to know I want marriage and babies and the white picket fence. Fuck.” Dropping his gaze, he punctuated the curse with a squeeze of my hand, and I couldn’t help but giggle at his rambling. “I’m insane, aren’t I? You’re going to run screaming now, right?”
“No,” I said quietly, and he looked up at me, the panic lining his face softening as he took in the tears lining my eyes. “I want all of that too, and I want it with you. I’m twenty-seven, Owen. I’m not some young adult just embarking on the rest of my life. I know who I am and what I want, and I wantyou. I want to take your last name and have your babies—one day.”
He frowned. “One day?”
I reached out and prodded the corner of his mouth until it curved in the opposite direction. “We’re endgame, QB. I justdon’t want to rush things. How about we start with ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ labels before we go slapping on any others?”
“I can do that,” he said, grinning. “Though ‘girlfriend’ is a woefully inadequate way to describe what I feel for you.”
I squeezed his hand tighter. “And you’re not exactly aboyfriend, either. Are you sure you’re ready for this, though? For…me? I’m not exactly the easiest woman to love.”
Owen lifted a hand to cup my chin in one of his palms. “I have waited my whole life to love you, Whiskey. And if I wanted easy, I wouldn’t be here right now. I made a career of taking hits from guys twice your size and getting back up. Nothing you can say or do is going to break me. Throw whatever you need at me. Let me be your safe place.”
My vision blurred as tears filled my eyes, and I sniffled. I’d forever marvel at whatever force brought this man into my life, and forever wonder what I did to deserve him. But I’d spend the rest of my life proving worthy of his love and the safety of his arms.
“As long as you remember that you can do the same, QB. I know you’re all macho and hate talking about your feelings unless it’s with your therapist, but if we’re doing this, you need to know you can talk to me too. Letmebeyoursafe place.”
Owen swallowed hard and nodded. “Whatever you want, Whiskey. It’s yours.”
I nodded and gripped his hand tightly. “Now tell me something.”
“Anything.”
“Why do you really call me ‘Whiskey’?”
Owen swallowed hard, his eyes dartingaway from me, and I was surprised by the slight blush that crept into his cheeks. At last, our gazes collided again. “Your eyes.”
“My eyes?”
“They’re the exact shade of top shelf whiskey, and I swear I’ve gotten drunk staring into them more times than I can count. Everything about you intoxicates me, Delia, but those eyes? Fuck, I should’ve realized I was a goner that first time you came to my office and looked at me.”
This man. Soft and sweet beneath that hard body of his, his gentle words the antithesis of his rough touches in the bedroom.
“I’m obsessed with you, you know,” I said on a laugh, shaking my head. “It’s not normal.”
“The feeling is mutual,” he replied, leaning forward to kiss me.
I was gripped by the sudden need to be connected to him right now, to seal our promises to each other with more than holding hands and kissing. To properly thank him for all he’d given me.
So I withdrew my hand from his and tossed my napkin onto my plate, then slipped out of my chair and ducked under the table.
“What’re you doing?” he hissed.
“Showing my appreciation,” I whispered back, settling between his legs and reaching for the fly on his dress pants.
“We can’t do this here!”
“Somehow, I don’t think the boss will mind,” I quipped, pulling down his zipper and reaching through the opening in his briefs to extract his cock. Apparently, feelings talk turned my man on something fierce, because he was a steel rod in my hand. I circled him in my grip and squeezed. His hips jumped toward me, a strangled groan leaving his mouth.
“You wicked, filthy girl,” he said, and it sounded like his teeth were gritted.
“You can punish me later, daddy,” I said, then closed my lips around him.
“Fuuuuuuck,” he moaned.
