I tug at his hair, desperate to have him up here, desperate to kiss him, and he complies, rising and taking my face in his hands. He kisses me hard, sucking my lip and licking into my mouth. I can taste myself, and it’s fucking hot.
My hands find his belt, and I fumble to get it off, pulling it free in a long, whipping sound. Owen never stops kissing me, his mouth rough, his tongue searching. I can’t help myself, and I palm him through his dress pants.
“Goddammit, Liv,” he groans, and I love knowing his curse word of choice. I unzip his pants and slide my hand beneath the elastic band, finally gripping him. I squeeze, he slams his hand against the door over my head, and I jump a little. “Sorry,” he murmurs, regaining his composure and returning to his more gentle demeanor, kissing me carefully, while I stroke his impressive length.
“I like it, Owen.” I bite his lip a little to reinforce my statement. He groans, and I stroke him harder.
“You have to stop,” he grits into my mouth, then slides his hands under my ass, like he plans to hoist me into his arms. “Can I take you to bed?”
“No,” I say, cupping his face, pulling his mouth to mine. Owen stills, and my post-orgasm brain catches up to what I said. “I mean, I want to…right here.” I kiss him again, and I can almost feel the moment my words click into place in his brain. He slams me back against the door, and I yank at my dress to give him access. His erection presses against my thigh, but he waits.
“Are you sure?” he murmurs, as I lick the skin below his jaw. “You don’t owe me anything.”
I pause for a moment, and so does Owen, searching my face, and I can only imagine what I look like. My lips are swollen, almost bruised, my hair is wild, and I’m sure my mascara is smudged, but I strangely don’t mind.
“I feel…safe with you,” I say, a little vulnerable, “like I can be a little messy and a little frantic and you won’t mind.”
“Not at all, Button,” he says and kisses me gently this time. For several minutes, we’re tender, languid. His fingers thread in my hair, my back pressed against the door to my apartment. I’m not wearing underwear, and his fly is undone, but other than that, we’re both fully clothed.
“Owen,” I say between kisses, “I want you inside me now.”
He takes a moment to fish a condom from his wallet, and I push at his waistband until his pants pool on the floor. Then he hoists me into his arms, his forearm braced under my ass. I wrap my legs around his waist and kiss his neck. I can feel his dick against my slick entrance and every nerve ending in my body is already singing.
“Please,” I am fully aware I’m begging now, but I need him closer.
Owen swears again under his breath and shifts my weight, spreading me so wide, my muscles burn. I have a bed, and there’s a couch ten steps away. Hell, there’s a counter next to us, but Owen follows my wishes, shifting me again until I feel him press into me. My body is open to him, I’m soaked, and my legs are splayed wide around his waist, but there is still a delightful strain as he enters me, a slow stretch. I arch my back against the door, a little whimper escaping my lips.
“You okay?”
“More.” I try to pull him to me with my calf around his back.
“Unreal,” he says, dropping his head to my breastbone once he’s fully seated. “You feel so god dammed unreal.”
I am full, exquisitely full, of Owen and of the gasps of air I’m trying to pull in when he begins to move his hips. Thisangle, this position, has him so deep inside me, he’s hitting every possible nerve ending. My back banging into the door with every thrust, his fingers digging into the flesh of my ass where he’s gripping me. I hope I can see his fingerprints tomorrow.
My fingers scrape at his shoulders, and he responds by thrusting rougher. Once, twice, three earnest thrusts before he drops my feet to the ground and spins me in one quick movement. Pushing me against the door with a hand flat against my spine, kissing the hollow behind my ear, and reaching around to cup my breast again.
“I just need…” I wiggle my ass back into his lap and he tucks my dress up over my hips, wedging himself back between my thighs. I’m so wet he slips in easily this time, and he grabs my hip bones, slamming me back against him. I’m not going to last. I can tell from his labored breath, he’s close too. He reaches around my waist and presses hard and fast circles on my clit until I cry out and he shudders his release behind me.
He spins me around again and finds my mouth, holding my chin and devouring my kisses. I slump against the wall, and he peppers me with kisses on my cheekbone, my ear, my eyelids.
I want him to scoop me into his arms and carry me to bed. I want him to crawl in next to me and hold me until four a.m., when I want to wake up with his head between my thighs. Then I want him to stay until morning, kiss me awake, and make me believe this is more than it is. But it’s not. This is pretend. And some very real, very good casual sex. That’s all it can be.
Because I’m not the girl you stick it out for. I’m the one who needs a fake fiancé—because the real ones eventually leave. I’m too much work and somehow never enough. The one who lets you down or falls short of what you hoped I’d be.
“I should get cleaned up,” I say, turning away from his kisses. Owen’s lips trail after mine like a magnet until I gently touch his chest.
“Oh, right,” he says, pulling back and zipping up his pants. “Right, I should…I should go.”
“Yeah, probably,” I say, smoothing my dress down.
Chapter 10
Owen
“Then you just left?”
“What was I supposed to do, Eli? Beg her to let me stay the night? Even I’m not that pathetic.” I sit at Eli’s small kitchen table, morning light filtering through the window. He pours hot water from the gooseneck kettle into the French press and grabs two mugs from the shelf. He says nothing, but I can tell he wants to. This is Eli—it’s like pulling teeth to get anything out of him.
