And there is absolutely no denying how much I miss him.
CHAPTER 42
OWEN
I setmy phone down on George’s coffee table and take a deep breath. Okay, then. Right.
I’m really not sure what to do with myself now.
I guess I could have pushed George to stay on the line. Asked to start up the next season ofMiss Matchedwith me, maybe. But I couldn’t tell whether he thought I might want to go or if maybe he was politely trying to leave himself. Besides, I feel like lately I’m letting myself get a littletooinvested in George.
Are we becoming friends? Sure, I think so. But, he’s still a major celebrity. A guy who moves in glamorous circles. An actual household name. And I am still me. I’m not kidding myself, here.
Plus, I’m in a weird headspace, having spent most of the day buried in the book. And while I’m glad I called him to tell him how much I liked it, hearing his voice again didn’t exactly help.
“Ugh.” I run my hands through my hair.
I don’t know what to do with myself. It’s too late to go out. And I definitely don’t want to call Zoe and explainanyof this. I definitely don’t feel like reading anything right now. Not sure I have the concentration to even watch TV.
I decide maybe a long hot shower will do me some good, provide some kind of reset. Then I’ll get into my pajamas and call it an early night. Yeah, that definitely sounds good to me.
I grab a towel and turn the water on. Steam billows up before I’ve even slipped out of my clothes. Not sure I’ll ever get used to having hot water any time I want for as long as I want. Definitely a change from my cranky old water heater in the cabin. But right now, I welcome it.
I step under the spray and feel my muscles start to relax. Mmm, yeah. I close my eyes and let the heat wash over me.
I go to grab my shampoo, then remember I ran out yesterday. Damn, I meant to get to the store to buy more. I guess I could use some of George’s. I feel a little weird about it, although I know he’s borrowed some of my sweaters and things, so really, this should be just fine.
I grab the bottle. Something sleek and black, minimalist. I squeeze some into my palm and drag my fingers into my hair. It’s a fresh mountain scent, ironically, since I’m sure it’s mainly marketed to upscale urban guys. Not too fancy, though, so that’s good. At least I won’t be going around smelling like a French perfumery.
No, it hits me. I’ll be going around smelling likeGeorge.
I drop my head and let out a groan. Which is maybe the wrong move because it reminds me just exactly how naked I am right now.
Okay, moving on. I rinse the rest of the shampoo out of my hair, but the scent lingers.
What would it be like to press my face into his neck and breathe him in?
No. Not going to think about that. That’s not what I’m doing here.
I soap up my chest, under my arms.
His voice comes back to me. Soft and low. His laugh.
I tip my face into the stream, squeezing my eyes shut.
He let me read his secret book.
He watchedMiss Matchedwith me. All night.
He toldBeauto gofuck himself.
For me.
And that’s it. That’s where my resistance breaks.
I brace my hand against the tile wall, running the other down my body, sweeping remaining lather into my palm before I wrap it around my now very hard cock.
Everything is wet and slippery. My hand slides, my mind drifts.
