As Owen’s lips metmine, my stomach grumbled insistently, and I pulled away from him with a giggle.
“Feed me,” I begged.
He pressed a kiss to my hair then got off the bed, padding first to the bathroom and returning with a washcloth. Gently, he mopped his release off my skin, both from my back and between my legs. Then he moved to the walk-in closet on the far side of the room. I took the opportunity to admire his backside, from the hard-as-a-rock glutes, the hills and valleys of his back, the groove of his spine, all decorated with red scrapes left by my fingernails. I loved that I’d done that to him. Though the marks would fade, I liked to think they cut deeper than the surface, that I’d claimed him on a soul-deep level.
He certainly had all of me.
When he emerged, he was dressed in a pair of Mustangs gym shorts and carrying a tee and a pair of his boxers, which he tossed to me—a foresight I appreciated, having forgottenI’d come here without panties.
I slipped it over my head and crawled off the bed, sliding my legs into the shorts before following him downstairs to the kitchen.
I was surprised to find his refrigerator fully stocked. He worked so much, I expected it to be empty or, at the very least, full of take-out cartons or leftover containers. Instead, it was packed, the food all carefully arranged. He began shifting things around, pulling open drawers and piling things on the counter. After a quick trip to the pantry, he constructed us each a sandwich on whole grain bread, piled high with thick slices of turkey, provolone cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes. On the side, he spooned healthy servings of some sort of pasta salad tossed with olives and peppers in an Italian dressing.
As soon as the paper plate was set in front of me, I dove in with gusto, my stomach practically eating itself at that point.
“Hungry?” Owen asked with a chuckle as he moved around to sit beside me at his massive kitchen island.
“Starving,” I said after swallowing a mouthful of sandwich. “Someoneworked me to the bone today.”
“There’s more where that came from too.”
I grinned. “I look forward to it.”
He nodded at my plate. “Food first. Then I want to give you a tour.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re going to be spending a lot of time here.”
Deeply pleased by his answer, I inhaled my entire plate with a speed that surprised even Owen, who finished only moments before me. Once he’d tossed our trash, I slid off the stool andturned toward the cavernous living room.
The walls were bright white shiplap, one dominated by a massive river rock fireplace, live edge, floating oak shelves branching out on each side and decorated with an array of framed photos. Another consisted of windows that soared from the floor to the delicate peak of the roof, centered around a tall sliding glass door that led onto a deck. The lawn beyond gently sloped to Owen’s private beach, the waves of Boardman Lake lapping against the shore.
“Why did you choose this place?” I asked. “I mean, instead of something on the bay or closer to the city?”
He shrugged. “Privacy.”
He inclined his head and led me from the room, down a short hall where three more doors branched off. One opened into an office that offered the same view of the water.
“When I first moved to Traverse City, it was a bit of a culture shock. It was easy for me to get lost in Detroit after my injury. I barely left my house. I paid people to deliver me groceries and other necessities, only venturing out for physical therapy in those early days. One day, I got sick of moping and made a plan, deciding it was time to take a good hard look at my future. Even then, even before I’d gotten back on the field and tested myself, I somehow knew I wasn’t going back. Call it that sixth sense that guided me my entire career but…yeah,” he finished on a rough sigh, and I laced our fingers together.
“I actually lived on the third floor of Lawless when I first moved here,” he told me, and I blinked up at him, surprised.
“I didn’t know there was an apartment up there,” I said.
Owen chuckled. “There wasn’t back then. I slept on an airmattress for two months while Jay and I gutted the club and I searched for a house. I found this place right as work finished, which was perfect timing because then we set our sights on converting the empty space up there into two apartments. I’ve had the same two couples renting them for the last seven years.”
“Is there anything you can’t do?”
“TikTok,” he said instantly. “It makes no sense to me.”
I giggled. “That’s why you have me.”
He bent and dropped a kiss on my mouth. “Lucky me.”
“So anyway…buying a house out here?” I prompted.
“Right,” he said. “Traverse City is a lot smaller than Detroit, you know? And when word got around that I’d moved here…I had a bit of a stalker situation. This girl kept sneaking upstairs at the club and leaving things at my door.”
