“No, you're not.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re staying with me.”
“Says who?”
“God, you’re beautiful.”
Chapter Fourteen
Daisy
“Don’t you dare move.”
“Why are you like this?”
“Because you love it when I’m like this.”
He’s right.
Unfortunately, he’s almost always right.
Just like he was when he said I was staying with him tonight, because here I am in the middle of a stranger's bedroom standing exactly where he told me to as he tosses throw pillows around the room, before peeling the duvet back until it’s hanging off the end of the bed.
I guess we won’t be needing that.
The girls think I went home with Brandon, one of the sober firemen in Owen’s group of friends. Brandon was a champ and agreed to play along. He and Owen walked us to our rental and then, once the girls were tucked inside, he left to stay with a friend in Portland, leaving Owen and me on our own.
Brandon is the first person to know about us. It should scare me more than it does, but I’ll think about that another time.
Taking his time, Owen faces me, putting on a show as he pulls off his boots before pulling his shirt over his head. The sound of his belt ripping through his belt loops sends a wave of excitement through my belly, but it’s the sound of his buckle hitting the wood floor that makes my insides quake with the thrill of what comes next.
He unbuttons his jeans and sits on the edge of the bed. “Take it off. All of it. Start with the boots.”
Yanking off my Ariats I toss each boot to the side. Next, I unbutton my jeans and am shoving them down my legs when he lifts a hand.
“Slow down. This is formyenjoyment.”
I should have a snippy comeback, but I don't want to spar with him right now. Not when he’s in control. Nothing boosts my confidence more than Owen Swift telling me what he wants from me.
As I shimmy out of my Wranglers, his blinding blue gaze fixates on mine. Not my body. Only losing our connection when I pull my shirt over my head.
I’m in a simple white cotton panty and a matching bra. It was a girls' weekend, and comfort was all I had to worry about. But now I’m wishing I were in something sexier.
I’ve been naked in front of this man many times, and I know he likes what he sees, but a girl still likes to feel pretty.
I reach behind me to release the clasp of my bra and let it fall at my feet before I kick it aside. When I reach for my underwear, he shakes his head.
“Do you know how hot it is to see you soaked for me?”
“No, why don’t you tell me?”
He uses his forefinger to coax me closer until I’m standing between his open legs.
“To know I do this to you makes me so fucking hard, Daisy.” That same forefinger is now resting on my sternum, but it slides over my bare chest between my breasts and over my stomach as he speaks. “When I see you wet for me, I salivate, because my need to taste that sweet honey of yours is maddening. The need to have your scent linger on me after I’ve had you is an addiction.”
His finger finally reaches the cotton, and I shiver when it glides over my clit before landing on the wet material. My pussy throbs, begging for his touch. He teases me as he runs his finger up and down. He knows what I want, and I know I’ll get it. But not until he’s ready to give it to me.
