Page 64 of Fragile Hearts

Chuckling, I kiss her again. “Yep, really. One hundred percent madly, crazy, head over heels, not gonna apologize for it, in love with you.”

“Owen,” she says, wrapping her arms around me as she pulls me close, burying her face against my neck as she whispers, “I love you too.”

Hearing those words leave my mouth is the scariest yet most exhilarating moment of my life. I’ve never said them to anyone—not Alana or Daisy, and I certainly can’t remember ever saying them to my mom. I’m sure I did, or maybe I didn’t.

But it doesn’t matter because having never said them or heard them often enough makes everything about this so fucking perfect.

I’ve said it a million times, Owen Sinclair is perfect, a literal unicorn among men, and I scored him. He waited for me, and somewhere in the chaos of my life, I gave him a chance.

When I saw that orange eviction sticker on the front door of the little cottage I shared with Daisy, I didn’t think things could get worse. A fucking low point, but under those dark clouds, waiting for me, was Owen to swoop in and save the day. Even if, at the time, it felt like a horrible decision to move in with someone who had a crush on me for the better part of a year.

It was the best decision I’ve ever made.

I still don’t know what I did to make him wait for me or fall in love with me, but I’d do it a million times over if it means we end up here every time. All those sleepless nights, all those times I cried in my bed wishing for someone to love me. All I wanted was a safe place to land, and here I am.

Owen is my safe space.

We climb into the massive bed with the softest sheets I’ve ever slept on. My body is fully relaxed, sated and calm after the sex and the bath, the warm water soothing every inch of me.

“I can’t believe we have to leave tomorrow,” I whisper, the room dark, the warm ocean breeze blowing through the open doors of the lanai. “Thank you for all of this. It’s something I will remember for the rest of my life.”

It’s not just being spoiled with some of the best food and accommodations or getting to leave Maui for one of the most pristine islands, but for how I’ve been welcomed into the Sinclair family with open arms.

The entire evening, Sally and Rick included me in anything that involved their children, with Sally complimenting me and telling me how happy she was that I was here. I couldn’t thank her enough for showing me what it’s like to have a family, to be loved and supported.

“Me too,” Owen says, my body cradled against his. His embrace is warm and comforting, and with that, I find my lids growing heavy. “Sleep, sweets.”

It’s with those words that my eyes fall closed, a peaceful slumber that only being in love can bring.

We wake early, something we’re both accustomed to, and normally we’d be out on the water before class or work. But this morning, our last morning here, it’s all about us and our bodies.

A heavy breath leaves Owen’s mouth, his lips leaving a path of soft kisses across my shoulder. My eyes are closed, basking in the feeling of complete and utter obsession.

That’s what this is.

Obsession.

I’m infatuated with him.

His body.

His mind.

His soul.

His heart.

Everything.

I reach back, weaving my hand through his messy hair, his sleep-laced sigh sends a shiver up my spine. Moving my hips slowly, my ass brushing against his already hard cock, he moans, soft and deep, and I love the sound. It’s because of me and everything we are together.

Owen’s hand wraps around my throat, squeezing gently, his mouth next to my ear as he whispers, “I think you like it rough, but I want to treat you like glass, baby.”

“I won’t break, Owen,” I murmur back, my words coming out on a breathy exhale, that desperation I’ve felt all weekend returning.

His hand moves over my collarbone, his fingers dancing softly over my skin, and I push my ass back against him. Cupping the swell of my breast, his calloused palm brushes over my nipple, and it tightens into a hardened peak in response, begging to be pulled, sucked, tweaked and bitten.

“How rough do you want it, sweets?” Owen asks, a possessive rasp to his voice, and I open my thighs, his knee sliding between them.

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