Page 139 of Wish You Were Mine
The rules. The risk. The consequences.
All that mattered was this moment and the way he made me feel—the undeniable way we fit together perfectly.
My hands threaded into his hair, tugging just a little as I pulled him back to my mouth. And the way he kissed me then…I could get so lost in him.
I wanted to.
And that scared me more than I wanted to admit.
Because I’d never felt seen the way Owen saw me. So wanted.
And the temptation to keep going—to feel more and give him everything—was so strong I had to will myself to breathe.
But I couldn’t breathe.
So I pulled back, just enough to press my forehead to his and draw in a steady breath.
We were both panting, chests rising and falling like we’d just run a race.
A race that could take us somewhere we might not be quite ready for.
Was I ready for more?
I wasn’t sure.
It had been a long time since I’d felt safe enough to even ask myself that question.
But maybe...
If things kept going the way they had been—if he kept being Owen, steady and patient and real—we might get there.
And the thought of that didn’t scare me the way it might have a month ago.
In fact, it felt kind of...inevitable.
Because sharing that part of myself with him—when I was ready—would be something sacred. Something special.
Because that was who Owen was.
I drew in another breath and looked down, my gaze catching on where my hands rested on his bare chest.
I exhaled slowly, grounding myself in his warmth. In his steady breathing. In the soft rasp of his fingers still drifting along my back.
And that was when I really saw it.
The tattoo—two eagles, one smaller than the other, wings outstretched as they soared toward the edge of a solar eclipse.
The moon was swallowing the sun, a dim halo of light outlining the shadow. Stark. Haunting. And beautiful.
I reached up slowly, my fingers brushing along the shaded curve of a feather that had broken free.
“What does your tattoo represent?” I asked softly. Because knowing how intentional Owen was, it had to mean something. This striking tattoo had to have a deep meaning to him.
He hesitated, swallowed. Then his gaze found mine and held it.
“It’s for my dad and my sister,” he said, vulnerability etched in his voice. “The eagles are them…still fighting to fly, even as the light faded.” There was a slight hitch in his voice as he added, “I got it shortly after we lost them. As a reminder that they’ll always be in my heart. Even if they were taken from us too soon.”
I blinked against the sudden sting behind my eyes and slid my hand down his chest, right over his heart. “That’s a beautiful tribute.”
