Crushed (Crystal Brook Billionaires) (18 page)

“Hm. Cool.”

I looked down from the house and over at him standing on the patio between the solar lights. “Can you tell me again… why did you buy this house? I mean, it’s great, but it seems like it needs so much work. And it’s so big.”

Owen turned and looked up at the building himself. “I think it’s just because it needs so much work. It’s something to be done. It makes me feel good just to see progress being made. At the end of the day, I can look at the place and see what my hands did. It’s good, you know?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“I’ve always felt that way about working on houses.”

I studied what bit of him I could see. Combined with the poor lighting and the lengthy conversation we’d already had, my nerves were starting to die. Looking straight at him actually felt doable.

“You’re happier,” I said. “Happier than you were two months ago.”

Owen looked down. “I guess.”

The way he said those two words, he didn’t sound very happy. Afraid I’d just put my foot in my mouth big time, I turned and started walking around the edge of the pool.

“It’s so flat out here,” I commented, studying the lawn. “You could play croquette.”

My back turned to him, I made a face. Croquette? Had I honestly just casually mentioned croquette?

Owen laughed. “I guess so. I’d need someone to teach me. Have you ever played?”

“No, sorry, but I can hold a parasol like it’s my job, and I’m pretty sure it’s a requirement to get that down before you even pick up a mallet.”

“Is that what they’re called?”

I shrugged. “Damn, I don’t know.”

I got to the far edge of the pool, where there was less lighting. A breeze picked up, ruffling the trees. I gazed up and over at them as I walked.

One of my feet hit something in the dark, and I looked down while trying to step out of the way. For half a second, I thought it was a snake, but then I realized it was a coiled up garden hose. I stepped back, my other foot getting tangled in another part of it. Next thing I knew and I was falling over sideways.

My hip and right shoulder hit the water at the same time, and I went crashing into the pool’s depths. Instinctively, I kicked my legs. One of my shoes made impact with the side of the pool, and I shot up to the surface. I gasped and shook my face to get the water out of it. At the same time, a splash sounded somewhere nearby. I looked but couldn’t see Owen anywhere.

Something bobbed in the water next to me, and Owen popped up.

“Are you all right?” he gasped.

I laughed. “Yeah.”

“The hose…”

“I tripped.”

He laughed as well. “I thought it was wrapped around your leg.”

“I’m fine.”

I kicked harder. It was hard to stay buoyant in jeans. “I need to get out before I sink.”

“Right,” he agreed.

Kicking for the side of the pool, I hauled myself out. Owen did the same next to me. Water cascaded from our clothes in heavy drops, crashing onto the pavement and the offending garden hose, still coiled up and waiting for its next victim.

“I thought it was a snake.”

Owen laughed again. “A water snake?”

“No.” I grinned at him. “Thanks for jumping in after me… even though you didn’t have to.”

“Let me get you a towel.”

Hesitantly, I followed him to the back door we’d come out of. He went inside, dripping water the whole way, but I stayed at the threshold.

A minute later and he was back, two large towels in his hands. He handed me one and kept one for himself.

“I’m sorry,” I said, rubbing the towel up and down my legs first.

“It’s all right. No harm done.”

“There’s water all in your house now,” I pointed out.

“That’s the least of this house’s problems.” He wrapped the towel around his torso and rubbed it up and down. I tried not to stare.

“Still… sorry. And thank you.”

“If you wanted to change your clothes, I can loan you some. I’m sure I have something here that will fit you.”

I literally gulped… and then prayed he hadn’t heard it. “Okay.”

He dried himself off some more and kicked off his shoes before going to the doorway again. After a little bit, he returned with a shirt and some gym shorts.

“You can use the bathroom,” he said, handing the clothes to me. “Don’t worry about the water. I’ll get it later.”

“Okay,” I mumbled. “Thanks.”

I pulled my shoes off to lessen the amount of water I’d be taking inside and hurried past him. He’d turned more lights on inside, and I found my way easily to the closest bathroom. It was barren, with a tool case sitting in the bathtub. The door creaked as I shut it.

After changing, I hung my dripping clothes up on the shower curtain, then dried myself off again with the towel. To finish off the job, I mopped up the water on the floor with the towel then hung that over the rack as well. The clothes Owen had given me were big, and I had to roll the waistband of the shorts twice to get them to stay on. As I pulled the shirt over my head, I caught a whiff of laundry detergent. My heart swelled, and my stomach flipped.

No,
I reminded myself.
You can’t do this.

I couldn’t have a crush. I wasn’t ready to have a crush. Even if things went well, even if having feelings for a man didn’t lead to heartbreak. No. I still couldn’t handle it.

Because things going well would end up hurting just as much as things going poorly.

Finally dry, I stood there in the middle of the bathroom, way too aware of the fact that I wore no underwear.

Home. I needed him to take me home. Like, right away. That’s what I would do.

I went to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. I tried again, and it still wouldn’t move. Panic fluttered in my chest. I hated being in small spaces and the bathroom had no window.

Taking a deep breath, I tried turning the doorknob in the other direction. Still, it didn’t move. I inspected all around it. Had I accidentally locked it?

The knob was pretty old, but there didn’t even appear to be a lock. Maybe some of the wood had swelled, and it was just jammed. I pulled on it, then remembered it was an old house, and the door went out into the hall.

I leaned against the door. “Owen!”

A second later and his footsteps came down the hall.

“I’m locked in,” I told him through the door.

The floorboards outside the door creaked. “Shit. I’m sorry. I forgot that happens with this one. Here, let me try.”

The knob jiggled slightly, but the door didn’t open.

“I don’t want to live in here,” I joked, mostly to calm myself down.

“Don’t worry. I’ll save you.”

The knob jiggled some more.

“Here,” he said. “I’m going to turn and pull and you turn and push. All right? Turn the knob to your right.”

“Okay.”

I did as instructed. At first, nothing happened, but then the wood started to groan. I felt the force through the knob as Owen pulled harder. Suddenly, something popped, and the latch slid open.

And the door fell right off its hinges, clattering into the hallway.

I screamed and covered my mouth with my hands. Owen jumped out of the way, the door falling down where he’d been standing half a second ago. Dust rose into the air, swirling around us.

“Oh my God,” I whispered through my fingers.

“Yeah,” Owen agreed.

We stared at the door lying flat on the floor.

And then Owen laughed.

I stared at him. He’d changed into a pair of cargo shorts, but he’d failed to put a shirt on. Or maybe he’d been about to do that when I’d called for help. Either way, there he stood, one fine package of rippling muscles.

Realizing I was staring, I looked away and back at the fallen door.

Owen kept chuckling. “I had a feeling that would happen sooner or later. I’m sorry. I’ve been meaning to replace that. I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

“I’m sorry,” I gasped.

“Here.” He extended his hands to help me over the door. I took a wide step so I could clear it and ended up pressed right against his bare chest.

We both froze. My hands remained in his, held up at our sides. My face swayed only inches away from his throat. If only I tilted my face up… and he tilted his face down…

Our lips would be aligned.

Wrong thought, wrong thought, I desperately tried to tell myself. Only I was no longer listening to that voice in my head. It was my body that was in charge. Senses had become more important than thought.

So I moved my face upwards, allowing it to be directed by the heat coming from his own. His chin was tilted down, his hazel eyes flashing and wild in the bright hallway light. Every cell in my body jerked, crying to be melded with his.

“Claire,” Owen whispered. “I…” He faltered.

I swallowed hard. “You don’t have to say anything.”

I pushed my weight forward onto my toes, giving myself the last bit of height needed for our lips to collide.

But when they did touch, it was the opposite of what I thought it would be. There was no collision, no crashing. It was a meeting of two mouths that fit and moved perfectly together. His lips read mine. Or my lips read his. I didn’t even know which way it went, but our mouths seemed to know each other. They moved at the same pace, the same flow.

The softness from Owen’s kiss swept across my body, enveloping me in a haze. There were no thoughts. There was no moment beyond the one we were caught in. I could float away, lost to the world, and as long as he was kissing me, I would never once think about what I’d left behind.

I pressed forward and wrapped my arms around his neck, only one intention in mind.

“Take me to your makeshift bedroom,” I whispered into his open mouth.

I braced myself slightly, waiting for the “no, we shouldn’t” or “are you sure?” gestures. But a response never came. Instead, Owen wrapped one arm around my back and one under my hips. His mouth still against mine, he lifted me up.

Time sped up. It slowed down. It swirled around us. It did all of those things it’s not supposed to do. Owen walked backwards and spun around. Suddenly, we were at his bed, and he was laying me down on the quilt there. He moved forward, his weight pressing against me. His hands grabbed hold of mine, his fingers winding tight with my own. Just like our lips, our hands fit perfectly together. The realization caused an explosion in my chest, little fireworks popping over and over.

What had I stumbled into? How could this man I didn’t even want to feel things for fit against my body like he’d been crafted for me?

Owen kissed me harder, his tongue pushing into my mouth. All questions dissolved.

One of his hands moved down, sliding across my jaw and down my neck, then down the side of my torso. I trembled under his touch, shaking beneath his palm.

Hot kisses moved across my cheek and to my ear. Owen muttered something that must have been my name, but I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t hear, could barely see. Only delicious heat and the need to be touched by him existed.

“Take my clothes off,” I gasped through the fever.

His tongue darted into my ear, and I moaned. The hand that had traveled southward grasped onto the waistband of my shorts. He yanked, smoothly slipping them down around my thighs. His hand didn’t go to where I thought it would though. Instead, it traveled to my knee and down, massaging the length of my leg. My thighs fell open, begging for more.

Owen kissed me slower, his tongue dancing languidly over mine. His fingers trailed back up, grazing along the inside of my thigh. Unexpectedly, the very tip of his finger flicked over my mound. I cried out into his mouth. He responded by making his own satisfied sound and pressing his palm hard against me.

A smooth finger slipped inside of me, curving up and pressing against the ridges there. My hips jerked as pleasure shot through me. Owen growled and moved his mouth down and over my throat. His teeth grazed against my skin, rough and savage, but his hands were tender and delicate. He probed me with one hand while the other slipped underneath my loose t-shirt and up and over my breasts.

His fingers found a nipple and twisted lightly, rolling the hard nub between them. Owen sucked my neck harder, and with each motion of his fingers or mouth, I became more and more lightheaded.

I grabbed his hair in one hand, holding onto it at the roots. My other hand went to his back, slipping down the ridges there. My fingers extended just to the waistband of his pants. I tugged slightly, aching to get beneath the layers of clothing.

Owen’s fingers rubbed the aching spot inside of me and another wave of pleasure hit. Fever racked my body. I wanted to feel each bit of his flesh on mine. I wanted to taste his skin, have the saltiness of his sweat sit on my tongue. More than all of that, though, I wanted him inside of me.

“Take your pants off,” I gasped.

Immediately, he stood up, taking my shorts with him. He slid them off my feet and dropped them to the floor. I lifted up onto my forearms and watched him, the loose shirt soaked in his scent tangled about me.

Owen unbuttoned his shorts and tugged, sending them to the floor along with his underwear. His length pushed forward, smooth and slick. I sucked in a sharp breath. The anticipation thrummed in me, sparking in my very fingertips.

Owen crawled back onto me, and there was a new fever in the action, a neediness that hadn’t been there before. His lips locked back on mine, moving in the familiar rhythm they’d already established. The end of his cock slid across my thigh, warm and slightly wet. He moved forward a little further and it brushed against my opening. I wrapped my arms around him, drawing his torso closer towards mine.

“Hold on,” he gasped.

Jumping off the mattress, he rummaged underneath the bed for something. I remained still, listening to my breath coming out ragged and harsh. Owen found what he was looking for and stood up, slipping the condom onto his shaft with both hands. He collapsed back onto me. As we kissed, he pulled my shirt up and over my head. Our lips broke contact for a moment to let the shirt pass through, but then they were back, not wasting another second.

Owen pushed into me, spreading my walls and filling me up. I cried into his mouth, and he grasped my face in his hands, kissing me until the cry was muffled. He moved slowly, each thrust achingly deliberate.