“Oh, you got real quiet.”
“I just underestimated how sexy you would look under your clothes.”
I sighed, not just relieved by his response, but feeling total disbelief that a guy as hot as Owen could be that impressed by me.
“You should have told me I was only half right, though,” he added as he assessed the red trim lining the waistband of the black panties.
“I figured it was close enough.”
“You aren’t impressed that I mentioned that thing about pink trim on black panties?”
“At least that wasn’t your guess because you would have been wrong.”
He chuckled. “Now come on. Do a little turn for me. I want to see what that ass looks like in those.”
I modeled the underwear for him before facing away from him.
I wanted him to want me so badly.
Even not looking at him, I felt his desire searing right through my soul—something that was only confirmed as I faced him once again and found that familiar stare fixated on my waist.
“Keegan, you look incredible in those.”
His tone was so intense, a pure expression of his desire that made it impossible for me to question his sincerity. But even without doubting his words, it was hard for me to fully believe, and I uttered, “Really?”
Maybe I wanted even more assurance because of how good it felt to receive it from him.
“Yes, really. Gorgeous might be a more appropriate word, though.” He grew quiet for a moment before adding, “Come here. I want to get a closer look.”
I was nervous, yet it was so easy to walk toward him, his gaze drawing me in, luring me with a promise.
How had our night led us to this point?
How had we gone from a fake interview about our fictitious relationship to being in his room, me in my lacy underwear, with a stiff hard-on, making my way to him?
He sat up on the couch as I stepped before him.
He studied the design of the fabric before placing his hand on my thigh.
I trembled at his touch as he moved his hand up slowly, awakening a deep hunger within me.
He placed his free hand on my other thigh and urged me to move to the side, still inspecting, looking it over so thoroughly, like it was some serious project he had to invest his attention in.
So serious, even as he probed my flesh with his hands, moving one on my ass, cupping it, feeling the cloth.
“Yes, these are very nice,” he said, almost in a whisper. “Very, very nice.”
He leaned forward, and opening his mouth, placed his lips against my hip, kissing softly, his tongue flicking across my flesh. My head rolled back, and I felt as though I was losing control of my body to the sensations that now stirred because of what he was doing to me and because of what I wanted him to be doing to me.
But I had to stop this before we went too far.
“O…” I said, hating myself as he leaned back and glanced up at me, his expression rife with concern.
20
Owen
Keeg’s flesh felt so good against my lips. I’d never been so greedy for a body in all my life.
