Page 33 of Knots About You
‘Please kiss me,’ I whimpered.
For the first time since he’d touched me, his control slipped enough that he kissed me with harried abandon. If slow, steady Owen had me sweating, heated Owen had me erupting. I lost myself in the clash of our tongues and the way his fingers dug into my hips. Bliss washed over me in a growing tide.
‘That’s it, Claire. Come for me.’ The growl in his voice tipped me over the edge, a ferocious orgasm ripping through me, each nudge of his hard dick making me cry out.
By the time I came back to myself, Owen was openly admiring me. I’d never felt so sated, yet so exposed at the same time.
‘Like what you see?’ I asked.
‘More than you know.’
Owen pulled me forward for a sweet, tender kiss.
‘You all right?’ he murmured, forehead resting against mine.
‘If I had bones, I think I’ve misplaced them.’
‘Good,’ he said, kissing the corner of my mouth like a stamp of approval.
When he finally drew back, I chased him with my lips because apparently I’d become needy around him. He smiled. An actual full-on million-watt smile. My stomach swooped at the sight of it.
‘God, you should do that more often,’ I said.
‘Pin you to my dick and make you scream?’
Damn. I thought he was hot when he was stoic, but potty-mouthed Owen was a whole new ballgame.
‘No. Well, yes. Obviously, more of that would be fantastic, but I was talking about smiling.’
Owen curled an escaped tendril of red around his finger. ‘Noted.’
His hands moved to the knots behind my back. ‘Any tingling? Sore?’
‘Floaty,’ I admitted. ‘In a good way. Like my head’s filled with helium.’
‘That’s a good sign.’ Lifting me without even a grunt, he turned me to face away from him. The tension eased as he undid the knots and slowly looped the rope from my arms. Pins and needles rushed into my fingers. Owen tugged me against his chest, warmth covering my back. He rubbed my wrists and fingers until feeling returned, making me sigh with pleasure as he worked in careful circles.
Lifting my hands, he pressed a kiss to each wrist. A small, almost ceremonial thing that made my throat burn.
‘I’ll get you a drink and something to eat,’ he said, standing and tugging me gently upright with him.
‘I’m a bit wobbly.’
Owen scooped me up in his arms as I squealed, carrying me to the kitchen and depositing me on the counter.
‘Toast?’
‘Please. And there’s cheese in the fridge. And marmalade.’ He looked at me as if I’d grown two heads. ‘What?’
‘You want cheese and marmalade? Together?’
‘Yeah. It’s good!’
‘YetI’mthe kinky one.’
The kitchen light was dim, making everything look softer, including the mess. He put a mug of coffee in my hands and a plate of toast on the table, half buttered, and half with my abomination. I ate like a woman who’d been to the edge and back.
His face kept that steady, infuriating calm. Sitting in the messy kitchen with Owen was worlds away from where I had been in London. Not just in distance. Marty would never have touched me in a house that has so much disorder. Or while I was covered in paint with my hair like a rat’s nest.
