Chapter Thirty-One
Daisy
“... I
believe I have a prize to redeem.”
One second, his dimples are sending my lady bits into a frenzy, and the next I’m scooped up in his arms. The naughty grin on his face as we ascend the stairs sets me on fire.
Owen’s smile is as always dazzling. It’s the mirth in his eyes, the charm of his dimples, his gleaming white teeth, and his lips... his lips are perfectly pink. His bottom lip is slightly fuller than the top. My tongue darts out to lick my own as I imagine tugging his bottom lip between my teeth as he hovers above me.
I can only hope he’ll take pity on his patient and finally touch me tonight.
“What are you smiling at?” he questions, his own smile growing brighter.
“Just looking forward to my prize.”
We’ve reached the bedroom, and he settles me on the bed, propping my leg up once again. “I hope I don’t disappoint?” He flicks my nose and walks away.
He turns on the Bluetooth speaker on top of his bedside table as he leaves the room, turning the light off, leaving me alone in the dark.
“Hey!” I yell, but I’m drowned out by an unfamiliar pulsating beat that blasts through the speaker when the lamp next to the bedroom door flashes to life.
Owen reenters the room, exaggerating his movements as he glides one hand along his dresser. He opens a drawer and shuffles around. Just as the singer mentions his sock drawer, a pair of Owen’s balled-up socks hits me in the face.
“What is going on?” I laugh, batting it away.
Owen doesn’t answer because he is in full performance mode. He shakes his ass and lip-syncs to an addictive, hilarious song about a man’s perfume. Stomping back and forth in front of the bed, he takes every beat seriously as though he wrote and recorded the track himself. I whoop it up, bouncing along, encouraging him. As silly as he is, my panties dampen as I watch him work. He is the silliest, sweetest, sexiest man I have ever encountered.
He twerks.
He thrusts.
He pouts.
Just when I think his performance couldn't get better, he rounds the bed where he slowly but surely swirls his hips and rips his T-shirt over his head. I shout a ‘hell, yes!' in encouragement as he tosses the shirt at me before he crawls across the bed.
Holy hotness.
I may have been under the man a time or two, but this Magic Mike show is new. He’ll be getting a five-star Yelp review for sure!
He lays his head on my lap just as, much to my dismay, the song ends. I wait a beat to see if I’m going to be graced with another song. Sadly, the room remains quiet, but the weight of his head sends butterflies fluttering in my belly in anticipation of what comes next.
When he gives a mock bow from his place in my lap, signaling the end of his performance, I show my appreciation with an enthusiastic clap. “Encore!”
He places one of my hands on his bare chest, resting it over his heart. “I’m glad you enjoyed the show. There are times I say, fuck it, go be a stripper. But that’s too much waxing for one man.”
“Too much is what you are.”
I drag the fingers of my free hand through his hair as we sit in contentment. It’s rare we get these small, tender moments together. Not worrying we might get caught or knowing we have a limited amount of time. It’s perfect.
“I would have told the girls years ago, had I known I’d get this kind of reward,” I kid, as my fingers continue to comb through his hair.
He lifts my hand from his chest and kisses my palm before sliding off the bed. He slips his shirt back on before making his way to my side. The somber smile he wears as he sits next to me says he wishes I wasn’t so flippant about our relationship. That I had wanted to tell the girls years ago.
Leave it to me to ruin the moment.
I feel like I’ve failed him, because he means much more to me than I’ve ever let him know. Determined to show him without words, I take his hand in mine to tug him close enough to press my lips to his. Thankfully, he kisses me back, but as soon ashis free hand cups my face, he pulls back, places a kiss on my forehead, and stands.
