“There’s nothing to talk about.” He sets his half-finished drink on the counter, then opens the fridge door.
“I’ve been chasing after you forhours.”
Owen closes the fridge doors without taking anything out. He stands there, holding the door handles, with his back to me. “I didn’t ask you to.”
“Shadowing you is literally my job. I’m not your enemy. I’m trying to help you, and you’re making it incredibly difficult.” I stalk toward him. “Look at me.”
This is the part where he either shuts down… or doesn’t.
“I don’t think…”
“Look at me.”
Owen grumbles to himself, but he turns around and crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay. I’m looking.”
“Why were you avoiding me today?”
“Because…” He rolls his eyes toward the ceiling. “Because you scare me.”
That’s not what I expected at all. “What?Why?”
Tendons in his neck stand out. His chest heaves like he’s either exerting himself, or fighting off a panic attack. He’s silent for a long moment, long enough that I think he might be ignoring me, until he says, “Because I want you to like me.”
That does something to me I don’t have a name for.
I’m now fully bewildered by his logic. “That’s aproblem?”
“It shouldn’t matter, should it?” His eyes flick toward me, then away again. “I shouldn’t care what you think. I should care what everyoneelsethinks. That’s your job, right? To fix my image?”
“Yes.” I sound less certain of this fact than I should be.
“I don’t lose sleep over my image, Remy. But you?” Owen’s voice drops an octave. “You keep me up at night.”
Everything tilts.
He’s too close. I stumble away from him, but he follows. My back hits the counter of the kitchen island.
“I was avoiding you because I shouldn’t want…” His eyes drop to my mouth. “What I want.”
There are a lot of very good, deeply important reasons that I should put a stop to this right here and now. If only I could remember what they are. Owen’s been driving me crazy all day, but the hunger in his gaze is making my knees wobble. “W-what do you want?”
I already know the answer. I just need to hear him say it.
“I know better than to answer that. You should go, Remy.”
I should. I really should. But I’m thinking about the phrasing, that he’s lost sleep over me, which leads me to imagine Owen lying back in the dark, his fist wrapped around his cock. My mouth waters at the fantasy.
“What do you want?” I repeat, with more authority this time.
Owen shifts closer, though he still doesn’t touch me. I’m caged in against the island, with only enough space between us for me to feel the heat of his body. His breath is warm on my cheek. My lips part without my permission.
He leans in just a fraction. Always a man of few words, he whispers, “You.”
Chapter Thirteen
Owen
Her lips part.
