Page 22 of Knots About You
Owen smirked and ran a finger of his free hand along my collarbone. It drew a whimper from me that caused his pupils to dilate.
‘If you behave like a brat,’ he said, voice softer and darker, ‘I’ll treat you like one.’
The world went out from under me in the very best way.
‘Show me,’ I breathed.
Everything about him intensified. He lifted my hands higher on the wall and held my wrists tight enough that I couldn’t squirm free. Not that I wanted to. No, he had me utterly captivated with the hunger in those icy eyes.
‘There are rules.’ Owen held my eye contact, watching my face with rapt attention.
‘You only touch me when I say you can.’ Leaning forward, his mouth skirted over my throat, making me tip my head back. The touch of his lips was so light that it infuriated me. ‘I touch you whenever I please, unless you use your safeword.’
It would be mad to agree to that. Totally mad.
But the puddle in my underpants told me I’d agree to just about anything he said. His mouth moved higher, the whisper of his breath causing me to bite my lip.
‘No photographs of anything intimate. No dirty texts. We keep what we do together between us.
My stomach hitched. Owen wanted to keep me a secret? Just like Marty had. Why was I never enough for anyone to want to have on their arm?
‘You’d be ashamed to be fucking me?’ I swallowed hard when his eyes narrowed a fraction.
‘No. But what we do in the bedroom…or anywhere else…is between us. You’ve seen how nosy people here are, and I don’t need the gossip paddlers to me talking about what kinks I’m into. I’d be delighted to have you on my arm. You’re funny and sexy as all hell, but that’s not what this is. You’re going to leave in a few weeks, and I’ll be left with all the questions.’
Owen had a point. Fingers crossed, I’d get my fill of the unholy Scot and then bugger off home. He couldn’t run away in quite the same way.
Plus, it wasn’t like we were in a relationship. I barely knew him.
It’s just sex.
‘Deal,’ I said.
I wet my lips and waited for him to kiss me. God, I hadn’t wanted to be kissed so badly since I was a spotty teenager awkwardly standing against a wall at a school disco. Before I’d grown into my face and wild hair.
When he narrowed the space between us to a hairsbreadth, I tipped my face upwards, my insides churning with anticipation.
His free hand cupped my jaw, his thumb caressing my lower lip.
‘You’re so fucking delicious, Claire.’
The roll of the R had me practically vibrating against the barrel.
‘Kiss me,’ I whispered.
‘No.’
Confusion hit me like a cartoon frying pan.
‘No?’
His thumb grazed my cheek as he read the emotions passing over my face.
‘No. I can’t go giving a brat everything she demands. Now, know that I want to kiss you more than I want just about anything. I’mdyingto taste you. Dying. But you are all pepped up on lust, and that’s no place to be making clear decisions.’
Injustice flared.
Because he was right about the lust, I was wound tighter than I’d ever been.
