“Thank you,” I reply, feeling drawn in by his smile and magnetic gaze.
This is the nicest he’s ever been to me. The way I’ve seen him interact with other people—practically everyone else but me!
Owen tries to start up a conversation a few times, and even though I’m affected by his charm, it starts to grate on me. Finally, when we’re both almost finished the main course, I can’t take it anymore.
“Owen,” I say, carefully speaking his name so I don’t sound completely exasperated.
“Yes?” he says with an easy, friendly smile.
“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I appreciate this, I really do, but it doesn’t change anything.”
He frowns. “I don’t understand.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, wondering if he’s playing or really doesn’t get it. “This is a forced arrangement. As nice as it is that you’re going to this amount of effort, I can’t pretend this is just a fun date.”
“Oh?” he asks, and he looks genuinely curious, as if he has no idea what I’m talking about.
“When we have sex,” I whisper, leaning forward and looking around a little furtively, “it will be just that. Cold, clinical, quick. Don’t fool yourself that I’m into this.”
Owen stares at me for a moment, his eyes going cold as his face sets into a hard expression. “I understand,” he says. “I was just trying to do something nice for you. For both of us.”
“Like I said, I appreciate that, but it doesn’t change the facts. We aren’t lovers and never will be.”
His eyes glint with an icy glare, and I can see his barriers coming up again. “You don’t have to keep repeating it. I get it.”
“Okay, then. Good.”
“Do you want to stay for dessert?”
I do, and I don’t want to reject his gesture. But at the same time, I know I won’t enjoy it under these conditions, so I just shake my head, and we get ready to leave.
For the entire drive home, I’m completely silent. Owen looks over at me every now and then, but I keep my arms crossed and my eyes focused out the window, deliberately rebuffing any attempt at conversation.
I didn’t think things between us could get any more awkward, but here we are.
When we pull up at the house, I feel frozen in place. Panic is stampeding through my veins, freezing my heart and seizing up my muscles. I get out of the car slowly, fully expecting my legs to fail me at some point.
Owen walks ahead of me, unlocking the door and holding it open for me. I walk past him like it’s a gauntlet of some sort, my senses on high alert. I walk quickly into the living room, hearing Owen’s steps behind me. A long, shaky breath eases through my lips, but the pressure in my chest doesn’t go away.
Are we doing this or not?
Closing my eyes, I try to center myself, knowing that no matter how nervous I am, I still want this to happen, and I’m going to have to figure out a way to get through it.
“Trina?” Owen says, very softly. When I turn around, his face is almost lost in shadow, the only light in the room coming from a small lamp behind him. His dark brown hair looks dusted with gold, and his eyes have that emerald sheen, even in the darkness.
“Yes?” I ask, trying to sound strong.
He takes a step closer and puts his hand on my shoulder. It sends a powerful shiver through me, so shocking that my knees tremble. Owen looks up into my face with a pensive expression as if he wants to say something, but then he shakes his head slightly.
I tilt my head, raising my chin and looking into his eyes, challenging him. Something in the air changes, and he grabs my shoulders, pulling me against him and kissing me.
I struggle against his broad chest a little, but the warmth of his lips and pressure of his tongue banish the nerves, and suddenly my arms are around him, my hands roaming up and down his body as I press our bodies together. Owen groans as his hands slide around my waist, reaching down to squeeze my ass.
Bending my head back, I take a deep breath, feeling dizzy from the contact. His lips move down my neck, feather-light touches, then deeper, and I feel the tip of his tongue as he gently nibbles down into the hollow of my shoulder.
