Page 58 of Owned

I’d told her what to do and how, and she’d done everything I’d asked, enjoying the hell out of it in the process. And I knew she had. I had the scratches on my back to prove it.

She was a firecracker, the most intensely hungry, passionate woman I’d ever had in my bed, and I was positive that it was going to take me a good long time to get tired of her.

If you ever will.

I shoved that thought aside. I hadn’t considered how long this relationship would be for, but I was now her husband legally and in other ways. Love wasn’t part of it, of course. I wasn’t getting into that toxic bullshit with anyone. I’d tell Rowan, of course, that she wouldn’t be getting that from me, but at least I could give her honesty. That, I could guarantee.

She was too sharp, though, that was her trouble. She saw me too clearly and as if that wasn’t bad enough, she confronted me too. She had no fear of me, presenting me honestly with my own bullshit, and I couldn’t remember the last woman to do that.

It was uncomfortable, yet at the same time I couldn’t help but respect her for it. She was going to keep me on my toes, that was for sure, and part of me was looking forward to it.

I got together the breakfast — omelette, orange juice and coffee — and put it on a tray then carried it upstairs.

She was lying in the middle of my bed, the sheets wrapped around her naked body, still fast asleep. Her black hair was spread like silk across my pillows, her face half-buried in one. The sheet had slipped down to her waist, revealing the elegant curve of her bare back, and at the sight of all that skin, my dick behaved with its usual relentless predictability by getting hard.

There were lots of interesting ways I could wake her up, but she needed food more than anything else considering our lunch had ended up being truncated in favor of sex the previous day, and then she’d been very disobedient about dinner. I’d had to give her a few delicious punishments for that, but none of them had consisted of food.

I set the tray down on one of the nightstands beside the bed then sat down beside her and ran a gentle hand down her back. Her skin was warm and silky and she smelled of sex and flower and me, and I couldn’t stop myself from leaning over her and kissed the back of her neck. Then another and another, little kisses down her spine until I felt her move and make sleepy noises.

I lifted my head and stared down at her as she turned over, black lashes lifting, her deep blue-violet eyes looking sleepily up at me. Then she smiled, a smile sent straight from heaven that hit me squarely in the chest.

It was mine, that smile. It was all for me. Because of me.

I wanted to pull down the sheet, bare her body, and eat her up like the treat she was and the wolf I was, but there were yet more conversations to be had that wouldn’t wait and so I restrained myself.

Rowan, though, clearly had no such issues because she reached up, sliding her fingers into my hair and pulling me down for a kiss. “Good morning,” she murmured. “I woke up earlier but you weren’t there.”

I pulled her hands away and kissed her fingers. “No, I was getting you breakfast.”

She frowned, tugging her fingers out of my grip and putting a hand to my chest, trailing her fingertips over my skin. I was only wearing a pair of jeans, hadn’t bothered with a shirt, but the light brush of her fingertips set me on fire.

Christ, this was ridiculous. We’d been up all night fucking, yet here I was, ready for more with only the lightest of touches. She was supposed to be mine, I wasn’t supposed to be hers.

“You need to eat,” I growled as her fingertips brushed across my stomach.

“I could,” she said. “Or I could just eat you.” Those teasing fingertips went lower, lightly traced the growing hard-on behind my zipper. “Seems like you wouldn’t be averse.”

I brought my hand down over hers, holding it against my fly so she couldn’t move it. “Greedy, beauty,” I chided. “You need food otherwise you won’t have energy for anything else.”

She gave me a look from beneath her lashes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be pressuring you into sex.”

“Oh, don’t worry, no pressure required. But later. Now,” I added firmly. “Food.”

She pouted a few moments, mainly for my benefit, then she sat up, still wrapped in her sheet and let me put the tray down on some pillows.

“I had no idea you could cook,” she murmured as she began to eat. “This omelette is delicious, by the way.”

“I am skilled at many things.” I picked my own coffee cup off the tray and took a sip.

“I know,” she said sagely. “I found out about most of them last night.”

I smiled. “You’re assuming I showed you everything. I have a few more tricks for you to learn.”

“I bet.”

“Some things to discuss, first,’ I said, breaking the subject gently. “Cait and Charlotte.”

Rowan ate some more omelette then put her fork down. “I’ll go and see Mom?—”

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