Page 36 of Owned

If so, that that makes her yours.

She looked dazed, as if my grip on her hair was the only thing keeping her grounded, and I found I couldn’t let her go. The raw, possessive beast in me kept my fingers curled tight in all those silky curls.

“You okay?” I asked after a moment. After an orgasm as intense as that one had clearly been for her, sometimes there was some emotional fallout.

She didn’t speak, still staring at me, dazed, so I gave her a little shake. “Answer me.”

She blinked and took a breath. “Yes. I…I’m okay.”

“Good.” With some reluctance I forced my fingers to uncurl and let her go, then I straightened, ignoring the press of my zipper against my aching cock. I could still taste her mouth and the softness of her lips under mine. My fingertips were damp from where they’d touched her, and she was looking at me she’d seen the face of God.

The darkness in me flexed in response, wanting more. Demanding it.

Lick your finger. Taste her.

No, fuck no. I’d told her I’d give her what she needed and I had. There was no need for more. For some inexplicable reason Rowan appealed to the darkness in me and that meant I couldn’t allow it any ground.

My father had always told me I was just like him, that I was a chip off the old block, and back when I was a boy, I’d loved it when he said shit like that. North, my older brother, had always seen through his lies and so he and Dad had always been locked in some battle or other. But not me. I ate up Dad’s attention like Oliver Twist with a bowl of gruel.

He was handsome, witty, charming, as well as being rich and powerful, and everyone loved him. So why wouldn’t I? Everything he said was gospel and I was impressionable. He’d manipulated me effortlessly. I had the same patronizing attitude to my mother that he did, and I too ignored the pill bottles slowly multiplying on her nightstand and the vodka bottles stacking up in the trash.

Dad told me she was too dramatic. Too hysterical. Too clingy. And I believed him. At least until the day I walked into the bathroom and found her dead in the tub, and I’d realized that North had been right all along. That my father wasn’t a hero. He was merely a manipulative narcissist and that if I was indeed a chip off the old block, then I’d have to guard myself. I’d have to keep a tight rein on my desires because they were as selfish and narcissistic as his, and if I wasn’t careful, I too could leave trail of broken people behind me.

I’d could never let that beast in me, that darkness, take charge, and yet looking down into Rowan’s wide violet eyes, I could feel it inside me, wanting out. For whatever reason, she called to it and I couldn’t seem to take control of it.

No, it was worse than that.

I didn’t want to take control of it.

I wanted to take control of her.

She was sitting there with her skirt hiked up to her waist, legs spread wantonly apart, and all I wanted to do was rip the rest of her clothes off and put her on her knees in front of me.

But I couldn’t and so there was nowhere for all my thwarted desire to go except into a sullen anger that burned like a hot coal.

“Cover yourself,” I said shortly, my temper getting the better of me. “Charlotte will be here any moment.”

13

Rowan

Atlas had said something but the words didn’t immediately mean anything to me. I’d slumped against the back of the couch, the remains of the orgasm I’d just had pulsing through me, my thoughts a shattered wreck. I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to think about anything at all. I only wanted to sit here, existing.

The way he’d made me tell him what I’d wanted, and then how he’d touched me… All he’d had to do was put that large hand of his between my thighs and press down on my clit with a gentle, agonizingly light pressure and I’d come apart instantly. Then again, I’d been so desperate for him, had had so many forbidden fantasies and heated dreams about him, that holding out against that kind of pleasure had never been an option.

But as the aftershocks of the orgasm began to fade, embarrassment caught at me. All I could hear was my own husky, needy voice replaying in my head as I’d surrendered to him. I’d given in so quickly, lost control so utterly…

Ugh. I wanted to cover my face and sink through the floor.

Atlas’s mouth hardened, the gold of his eyes gleaming with temper. Then he bent and twitched my skirt down.

Oh, that’s right. He’d told me to cover myself, hadn’t he?

Another wave of embarrassment washed over me at his expression. He was definitely angry. Was it me? Had I done something wrong? Forced him into doing something he didn’t want? Then again, it couldn’t be that surely? Yes, I’d kissed him but then he’d been the one forcing me to tell him what I wanted, not me forcing him. So why was he getting pissed at me?

I sat up, smoothing my skirt, my own anger rising in response. “Sorry,” I said tartly. “Not very ladylike of me is it?”

“Don’t apologize. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

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