Wash him out of my hair, so to speak.
“I need you to warm me up, Owen,” I whisper. A deep sound emanates from inside of him. Almost makes his chest vibrate.
“Tess.” His warning is clear as day. I’m poking a sleeping beast, but I don’t care.
I’m burning up and freezing all at the same time. I can’t seem to catch my breath, and my skin feels like it is being pulled tight over my entire body. My nipples are puckered up and standing at attention for Owen’s mouth against the thin cotton of my bralette and an ever-growning wet spot against my panties.
I want him.
I always have.
And if this snowstorm is all I ever get a chance at having, then so be it.
“Please, Owen,” I whisper. I’ve never begged a man.
Not that I’ve had a parade of them. I don’t have the most experience. Still single at my age, you would assume I might. But dating when not only you live in a small mountain town where you have literally known everyone your entire life, but when every man I went out with never came close to measuring up to Owen and the way I felt around him, no matter how much I tried, it’s no surprise that I’m alone.
“Please what, princess?” he coaxes, pushing for an answer. It makes my head spin. “What do you want, beautiful?”
“You,” I answer confidently, and to prove it further, I reach behind me, undo the hooks of my bra, and let it join my shirt on the tile floor. My eyes never move from his face, but his gaze tips down, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob and his nose flare.
“Today. No strings,” I find the courage to say out loud. Anything to get him to agree to give me what I need.
“Strings?” he questions, but I am not going to mess up the moment with the logistics of everything.
Like a woman on a mission, I move my hands to the front of my jeans, and despite being slightly shaky with excitement and anticipation, I get the top button undone. I’m about to start pulling them down and over my hips when his hands cover my wrists, and I know he can feel the way my hands are shaking. Hell, I know he can feel that my entire body is on edge.
“Let me.” His request is raspy yet hoarse, and my knees wobble at his tone. Like he is holding on to his control by a very thin thread. Without looking away, our eyes locked, he drops to the ground in front of me on one knee. In that moment, the only thing that exists is him.
I’m afraid to even blink and miss a moment.
And like the moment he opened my car door in the middle of the road, he surprises me. With the patience of a saint, once again giving me the opportunity to change my mind, he pulls my jeans off.
Slowly.
Carefully.
With a gentleness I would have never expected from him. A tenderness I have never had directed at me. He pulls my jeans down, holding my hand as I pull my leg out of one pant leg and then the other. Leaving me topless in nothing but barely-thereblack cotton panties. They’re high waisted with elastic bands at the hips instead of material.
They’re not the sexiest, but they’ll do in a pinch. At least they’re not granny panties. Thank god I’d had enough foresight not to put those on this morning.
“Fuck, Tessa.” His voice is hoarse, slightly scratchy in my ears. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this sight?” I can’t tear my eyes off him. His chest rises and falls heavily. His fingers skim the back of my bare thighs, and I can’t help it when my eyes flutter shut.
“So sweet,” he says, almost to himself, as he stands and takes off his own pants, for whatever reason leaving on his boxers on. There is no hiding the tenting at the front of them. He grabs my hand in his and brings it up to his lips. “You wanna stop, all you gotta do is say so. You understand?”
God! Why does he have to be such a gentleman?
“I won’t,” I reassure him. His eyes flare wide and then narrow.
“I’m serious, princess,” he grits, and I smile softly. There is something about his fierceness and need to make sure we’re on the same page that makes my heart soften. Makes me hope that maybe this is more than a moment. More than a night. More than a snowed-in fluke.
“So am I, handsome.” My hands move up his face. “I’ve waited too long for this.” The admission slips frommy lips, but I don’t regret it. “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life, Owen,” I tell him, probably a little too honestly.
But I can’t help it.
I may not be telling him how head over heels in love I am or how the time I spend with him when I deliver his muffins is the best part of my day, but it’s a hint at it.
Before I know it, he’s dropped my hand and I’m back up in his arms. Though this time, his hands are on the back of my ass,and my legs instinctively wrap around his waist as my hands rest on his shoulder.
