Page 83 of Uniquely in Love

“Ellie,” he scolded me, an amused expression on his face as he pulled on a t-shirt.

I sat up, the covers falling off of me, revealing my choice of sleep attire. Owen’s eyes filled with heat, and I did my best to look sheepish.

“You’re wearing my shirt?” He let out a low groan. “Do you know what you do to me?”

I bit my lip, eyes darting down to the tent in his boxers. “I think I have some idea.”

He smoothed his hand over his face. “We should, uh… Do you want some breakfast?”

Blinking, I shook my head. “No.” I wasn’t hungry for food.

Climbing onto my knees, I dragged his shirt up and off my body, freeing my breasts. The only thing I was wearing under his shirt—one that smelled like him—was a tiny pair of soft,lacy underwear in his favorite color. Light blue. I hadn’t worn them on purpose—certainly hadn’t expected this—but now, naked in front of him, I couldn’t help be thankful for it.

He stepped closer, and I cupped my tits, rubbing over my nipples. The air made them pebble, and Owen’s blatant perusal of my body made them tighten even more.

“What do you want, Ellie?” He stopped in front of me, hand reaching out and cupping the back of my neck, pulling our bodies together.

I moistened my lips with my tongue as he rested his forehead on mine.

“I want you,” I admitted.

“Me too,” he murmured, brushing back the front pieces of my hair. “So bad. You have no fucking clue, Ellie. It’s been so hard trying to keep my hands off of you.”

“So don’t,” I begged. “I can’t stop wanting you. I tried, but?—”

He brushed his lips over my throat, and I let out a small moan as he kissed up my neck, but not bringing our mouths together. Not yet.

No, he was apparently going to torture me.

He stepped back, pulling his shirt off before dropping it to the floor. Five months ago, I didn’t have a chance to appreciate his body. God, he was beautiful. He always had been, but now he was all man. I couldn’t stop myself from running my fingers down his muscular torso, chiseled and well-defined after years of playing professional hockey. I traced his abs with my finger tip lightly, and Owen shuddered, revealing his forearm with the movement.

Finally, I got a look at the tattoo I’d glimpsed last week when he’d been in the shower.

It was a daisy.

He had a daisy tattooed on his upper arm.

Somehow I knew, without asking what it meant, that he had it forme.He’d always called me Daisy. Of all the people inmy life, he was the only one to make my middle name sound like a nickname of endearment.My Daisy.That nickname always made my heart melt.

“When did you get this?” I asked, running my fingers over it in awe. The lifework was thin, but detailed—exactly the style of tattoo I’d always loved. We’d talked about getting matching ones when we were younger, but obviously nothing had ever come of it.

When we’d slept together after our graduation party, we’d been in a hurry, and by the time we’d stripped each other of our clothes, it had been dark. There hadn’t been a time to see his tattoo. But maybe that was by design, too. Back then, we’d both been holding back. Keeping things from each other.

Now, it was time to confess those truths. To move on—together.

He swallowed roughly. “I got it once I signed my NHL contract.”

I shut my eyes, processing that news.Afterwe’d broken up. “Why?”

His warm hand cupped my cheek, rubbing tenderly over my cheekbone. “You know why, Ellie.”

Shaking my head, I looked down at the comforter, picking at a loose thread in the dark blue fabric. “After everything I did… I never imagined you’d still want me, Owen.” Maybe I’d hoped for it, had moved back up here chasing after it, but I hadn’t dreamed that he’d still want me like this.

“What did you imagine?” He brushed a piece of hair behind my ear. “That I’d be able to move on from you? Never.”

Each touch was so gentle. Tender. He ran his thumb over my face, like he was memorizing it solely based on feel. Owen brushed over my lower lip, and I shuddered.

“One night wasn’t enough,” I admitted.

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