We both went quiet in the dim stillness, the rain on the window providing a gloomy soundtrack as his fingertips punished my aching muscles.
Owen and I were back in that hazy, undefinable space where the pull to be close, touching if possible, was hard to resist. Being near Owen felt natural now.Necessary.I knew he thought getting close was a mistake—I was holding my breath, waiting for him to angrily retreat from me like always—but I couldn’t write off the way I felt in the moment as being touch starved or horny.
No, I wantedhim.
I wanted Owen. Not Kai.
Owen.
It was as if he could read my thoughts, because he slid his hand from my arm as I admitted it to myself.
“You might feel a little bruised tomorrow, but it should fade quickly,” he said as he grabbed his glass and retreated to his corner of the couch.
He downed the wine quickly, like he was ready to be done with me. I didn’t want to say good night yet. I reclined so that I was facing him, my back against the arm of the couch.
“Hey.” I stretched my leg out and poked him with my big toe. Owen jumped, startled out of whatever had him now frowning. “You still haven’t sent me your chapters.”
“Right, I keep forgetting,” he said, leaning forward so he could pull his phone from his back pocket. “I’ll do it now.”
I watched his profile in the glow from his phone. I felt like I knew every inch of it.
“Sent,” he said. “Please be honest.”
“Of course,” I agreed. “But I have a good feeling. I know how you teach; now all you have to do is translate it to the page.”
“Yeah, easier said than done.” He let out a hoarse laugh.
“That’s why I’m here.”
A beat while he seemed to consider what sending his pages to me meant. I understood the naked feeling of taking a precious idea and sending it out into the world.
“Thank you.”
I now knew better than to suggest that it was a payback for his generosity and instead just gave him a soft smile.
Something was happening and we both felt it. The stilled air, dim light, and memory of his hands on my skin were guideposts on the way to the inevitable.
His eyes found mine in the darkness, and we watched each other wordlessly. My leg was still stretched across the couch, dangerously close to his thigh. I willed him to shift his hand a few inches, so I could feel his palm on my skin again.
My heart thumped so forcefully that I wondered if he could hear it. I crossed my arms, hoping to muffle the sound, only to have my breasts nearly spill over the edge of my tank top.
Owen’s eyes slid down my torso slowly to take me in, then back up to meet my gaze. He didn’t hide his appreciation, and his expression seemed to suggest what he was thinking.
Mine.
I tried not to visibly tremble at how obvious he was being, even without words.
But this time, it wasn’t Owen fighting off what was to come. He wasenjoyingthe wait.
Everything in our surroundings seemed to be conspiring to push us closer... the rain, the wine, the cloudlike couch, the dim lamplight... but I wasn’t about to test my theory.
I didn’t want to get rejected yet again.
Owen cleared his throat softly and shifted so that he was fully facing me in a way that suggested a lion about to pounce.
“I’m going to kiss you now, Brooke.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
