I can feel Owen before I see him. His body heat is pulsing behind me, his anger hot. I want to step back until I’m pressed against him, soaking in his heat and his protection.
The stranger lifts his head to meet Owen’s gaze. “Who are you?”
“Her husband.” Owen’s voice is a deep growl. “Now take your hands off what’s mine.”
The possessiveness in his tone sparks a shiver of desire so intense I feel it in my bones and deep in my core.I want his words to be the truth.
The guy mumbles some sort of apology and shuffles off the dance floor.
Tension leaves my body, replaced by irritation.
I don’t want to feel relieved when he comes to my rescue.
I don’t want to feel safe and desired when he calls me his.
I don’t want to feel anything for the man I’m playing house with until the one he really wants gets back.
“Are you OK?” he asks, his voice soft, soothing, and his breath like a soft caress on my neck.
“I’m fine.” I walk to the bar and order a bottle of water. “I’m surprised you even noticed what was happening. Where is your waitress?”
“You make it sound like she is my personal waitress.” Owen sidles up beside me, resting his elbow on the bar. With the wall on one side of me and Owen on the other, I’m shielded from the rest of the room.
His close proximity is doing all the wrong things to my already cracking avoidance strategy. “She wanted to be your personal something.”
“Are you jealous?” His smirk is back. “I can’t stop people from flirting with me, especially when the one who owns me doesn’t claim me.”
He wanted me to tell her he was mine.
I bite my bottom lip and close my eyes, the thought of saying that igniting a spark that will quickly turn into an orgasm once I’m alone.
Mine.I want it to be true.
But it’s not.
“You’re just the guy who paid my father to marry one of his daughters.”That’s not lying, right?“This is a marriage of convenience.”I think.My alcohol-muddled brain is having a hard time connecting meaning to words.“You already stole a kiss. I won’t let you steal anything else.”
Like my virginity.Heat fills my breasts with the thought, tightening my nipples. I fold my arms over my chest. “You might as well go and sleep with your waitress.”Please don’t.“Because you won’t be touching me.”
He steps forward until the edge of the bar presses against my back. He’s so close I can feel the outline of his body from the heat burning against my thighs.
My hips want to arch toward him on instinct, but I hold them still.
He tilts his head forward, bringing his mouth so close to mine I can taste the last glass of whiskey he drank. “You don’t want me to touch you?”
My throat bobs. “I don’t.”
His nose lightly brushes my chin. “You sure about that?”
No.
He bends forward slightly and slips one hand between us to touch my knee. “You don’t want me to do this?”
Short teasing strokes inch higher up my thigh with every pass. “Or this?”
My thighs open wider. “No?”
He chuckles. “Is that a question or an answer?”
