Page 136 of Wish You Were Mine
I pressedPlayon the remote, and the movie started to roll. Owen leaned back against the couch, legs propped up on the coffee table, and I curled against his chest, tucking myself beneath his arm. It should’ve been the perfect way to unwind—movie, popcorn, warm boyfriend beside me.
But I barely registered the opening scene.
Because all I could focus on was him.
The rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek.
The soft scent of his aftershave clinging to his skin.
His fingers trailing lazily up and down my side...then slipping under the hem of my shirt, brushing bare skin.
My breath caught in my throat.
Oh.
I liked that.
The quiet intimacy of it. The way it made my heart stutter and my body ache for more.
He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, and I tilted my faceup to look at him. His gaze dropped to my mouth, lingering there, and for a second, we just stared at each other.
We’d had a few kisses since that night in the pantry—sweet, fleeting moments stolen in private corners—but nothing quite as reckless and uninhibited.
And right now…I wouldn’t mind forgetting everything else again. Especially since we were actually alone in his apartment and no brothers could come downstairs and interrupt.
Owen’s fingertips trailed along my side again, slow and featherlight, following the curve of my back and gliding up my spine. I shivered, that simple touch making my breath hitch. And yeah, it had been a long time since anyone had touched me like that.
With care.
Purpose.
Want.
He shifted beneath me, laying flatter against the couch until his head rested comfortably against the leather armrest. I moved with him, instinctively adjusting so my body settled more fully on top of his, our chest and hips gently aligned. It wasn’t necessarily the most optimal position for movie-watching, but it was definitely perfect for other activities I hoped he might be up for…
His other hand reached up, fingers tracing the edge of my temple before skimming down the curve of my cheekbone, then along the line of my jaw. When his thumb brushed across my bottom lip, I had to bite down gently just to steady myself against the shiver that rolled through me.
When I glanced up, he wasn’t even pretending to watch the movie anymore. Instead, his eyes were locked on me, dark with hunger and something deeper. Something that looked a lot like longing.
I shifted, scooting up just enough to nestle my face into thewarm curve of his neck. He smelled so good—faintly of his cologne that had faded over the day, but mostly just…him. Clean, warm, familiar. I pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat, and then, unable to help myself, I let my teeth graze lightly across the tender skin.
“Maybe we should try watching this movie some other time?” he asked, his voice husky.
“Good idea.” I laughed softly, then murmured against his skin, “Since the professor in real life is way more interesting than the one on screen.” I lifted my head slightly and added with a smirk, “Tastes better, too.”
“Pretty sure the real-life student is way more interesting, too.” His smile curved, slow and wicked. “But…I might need a refresher on how she tastes.”
“Guess you better refresh your memory then,” I whispered.
That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed for him to let his hand slide beneath my chin and guide my lips to his.
His lips brushed mine—once, twice.
Then again and again. Each brush of his lips growing firmer. Somehow slower. Like he was determined to savor every second, memorizing the exact feel of my lips and imprinting it somewhere he could never forget.
My fingers curled into the soft cotton of his button-down, needing something to anchor myself as I shifted over him, aligning my body more fully with his. He was all solid strength beneath me—warm, hard muscle—and when his hand slid to my lower back and pressed, guiding me closer, the sensation of our bodies fitting so tightly together knocked the breath from my lungs.
“Yeah,” he murmured, “this is definitely better than watching the movie.”
