Mom didn’t bat an eyelash. “It’s a small place. We get only a hundred dollars a month for it.”
Liar, Owen thought. He knew for a fact that his parents usually got six times that amount for the nice one-bedroom apartment she’d referred to as a room above the garage. But he was glad for Mom’s little fib, because Lindsey actually smiled.
“I can probably afford that even with a part-time job,” she said.
“So you do have a job?” Mom asked.
“Not yet, but I’m sure I can find something around here.” It was the first time Owen had seen her look hopeful.
“She’s from Idaho, Mom,” Owen said.
“Idaho! You’re a long way from home.”
“I need to make a new home,” Lindsey said. “The old one isn’t right for me or the baby.”
“I’ll see if I can find someone to go to Oklahoma to get your car,” Owen said. “You’ll need transportation to get you to work and doctor’s appointments.” And the store. She’d need to buy some things for herself and the baby.
Lindsey’s smile faltered. “I’m sure it’s been impounded by now. I left it on the side of a freeway.”
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll get it here and running again. I’ll just add all the expenses to your tab,” Owen said with a wink.
She nodded and then reached out to take both his and Mom’s hands. “Thanks for helping me,” she said, “but not making me feel like a mooch. I’ve been feeling like such a mooch since I arrived in Texas.”
“Everyone can use a little help sometimes,” Mom said, patting Lindsey’s hand with her free one.
A little help? Owen thought, but he patted Lindsey’s hand as well. The faster he had his mom onboard with Lindsey’s care, the faster he could ditch her and head to Houston.
While Lindsey was in the bathroom—again—Owen gave his mom all the cash he had on him. It was only a few hundred bucks, but it should get her through the weekend. “She probably needs some clothes and stuff,” he said, “and some necessities for the apartment.” Luckily, the apartment was fully furnished, including kitchen wares and linens, but she’d still need a few things. “She has just that one little overnight bag of belongings until we get her car back.”
“I’ll take her shopping,” Mom promised, not looking put out in the least.
“I hate to leave you with all the responsibility of taking care of her, but I have plans this weekend. I have to leave.”
Mom crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head at him.
“Don’t pretend like you can’t wait to shop for baby clothes,” he teased her, and she laughed.
“I’ll take good care of her.”
Of that, he had no doubt.
Chapter Four
Caitlyn nearly jumped out of her chair when her doorbell rang a little after noon. If her visitor was Owen, he was a tad early and must have driven like a maniac, but it could just be a delivery, so she cinched the belt of her big fluffy robe a bit tighter and went to the door. Her heart tripped over itself when she recognized the gorgeous face on her video monitor, even though he did appear slightly distorted and a touch grainy on the screen. She loosened her robe, stripped it from her shoulders, and tossed it on the bench in the foyer before opening the door.
His smile of greeting vanished as his jaw dropped.
She wasn’t entirely naked. She wore the bright yellow Sinday chicken panties he’d so thoughtfully sent her.
“So much for small talk,” he said with a wicked grin.
“How was your drive?” she asked as she stepped aside so he could enter.
“I do believe that qualifies as small talk.”
Nerves fluttered through her belly as he stepped over the threshold and shut the solid wooden door behind him. He didn’t take his eyes off hers once. Not even to stare at her bare breasts. She’d played this scenario through her head a dozen times that morning, but even though she’d let her thoughts take it in a different direction each time, she hadn’t been prepared for the effect he’s nearness would have on her. She was trembling. Her knees were shaky, and her heart and body both ached with longing. She hadn’t experienced the feeling since the last time she’d fallen for the wrong man.
She didn’t realize she was walking backwards and he was following until she bashed her hip into the foyer console. She whimpered, not in pain but because he was getting closer now and the deep longing within her intensified as the distance between them diminished.
“Are you trying to escape?” he asked, his voice low, hypnotic, and so sensual that she tingled from head to toe.
She shook her head. Her breath caught when he wrapped a hand around her throat and pinned her against the table with his lower body. His cock—thick and long and as hard as the marble at their feet—pressed into her lower belly.
She clung to the table behind her, afraid she might pass out if she filled her hands with his sculpted muscles. He shifted his hips away—stealing the reminder of his desire from her—and she moaned a protest. But then his free hand was on her hip and her panties were sliding down her thighs until they settled on the floor and he was fumbling between their bodies. He released his firm hold on her throat just long enough to lift her to sit on the edge of the console table and then he was inside her.
Only after he’d filled her completely did she touch him. She pulled at his shirt. The urgency to feel his bare chest against her achingly hard nipples made her tug at his clothes. He didn’t help her—just stared into her eyes as he took her over and over with hard, deep, slow thrusts. And suddenly she didn’t care that she couldn’t press herself against his bare chest. The only things that mattered were the rhythmic connection between their bodies and the more intense one between their locked gazes.
Her favorite vase rattled on the console beside her each time he plunged into her. The wooden candlesticks she’d carefully chosen to match her décor tipped, rolled, and hit the floor with resounding thumps. But she didn’t care. She wanted him. Wanted this. Wanted it to never end. Wanted to be lost in his gaze and in his rhythm forever.
Lifting her feet off the floor, she wrapped both legs around his hips to take him deeper. She gasped as the shift in position meant he rubbed her just right. Her eyelashes fluttered, and her mouth dropped open as the pleasure overwhelmed.
If it hadn’t felt so fucking spectacular, she might have thought she ruined everything by coming. As she cried out lost in the throes of ecstasy, she couldn’t help but break eye contact. Her nails raked down his back as she lost herself. Owen’s entire body stiffened and he gasped brokenly. With a tormented moan, he buried his face in her throat, his fingers digging into her ass. After an intense moment of shallow, rapid strokes, he shuddered as he lost himself inside her.
He rubbed his open mouth against her throat as he struggled to find enough air for his laboring lungs. She held him close, selfishly hoping he never took a steady breath, because she knew as soon as he did, he’d move away. She didn’t think she’d ever be ready to release him.
After a long moment, he took a deep breath and lifted his head. His smile made her already thundering heart throb.
“Now that was wonderful greeting,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her.
“Hello,” she said with a laugh and cupped his face between her palms so he’d stay close.
“And hello to you on this fine Sinday afternoon.” He shifted away slightly, despite her unspoken wishes to remain glued to him, and glanced around the foyer. “Nice place you’ve got here. Enormous.”
“I bought my husband out in the divorce settlement,” she said. “I probably should have let it go and purchased something smaller, but it was my dream house, so I couldn’t bear to part with it at the time.”
“Was your dream house?”
“We were supposed to fill all five bedrooms with our children.” She’d likely always feel sad and lonely in this huge house because it served to remind her that her dreams for a family had never been fulfilled.
“
Maybe someday you’ll have kids.”
“Maybe.” She didn’t want to have this discussion with Owen. He must realize that she was only seeing him for the amazing sex. She had been thinking of starting something a bit more long term initially, but then that pregnant groupie had shown up, and it had been quite an awakening for Caitlyn. The guy was a seasoned player, and she’d just entered the field as a rookie. If Owen brought up something like having kids again, she’d have to set him straight. She’d been warned about how easily he got his feelings hurt, so she hoped he caught on without her having to tell him point blank that she had no plans to get serious about him. “Have you had lunch?” she asked.
His eyes lit up with interest. “Not yet. Did you cook?”
She laughed. Her cook? Yeah, no. “I don’t cook much”—or ever—“but I am an expert at opening a takeout container.”
He was pretty good at hiding his disappointment. “I could eat,” he said. “Thanks.”
He kissed her again and pulled out, putting far too much space between them. She stumbled as she got her feet beneath her. Sort of. She definitely wasn’t accustomed to the kind of aerobics she’d just experienced. Her thighs were all shaky as she bent to retrieve her panties.
“So do you often open the door in the nude?” Owen asked.
She grinned. “Only if I’m hoping to get laid.”
“Lucky me.” He removed the condom she hadn’t realized he’d applied and tied the open end into a knot.
“D-d-did you put that thing on in the car?” she sputtered.
He laughed as he tucked his cock into his pants and fastened his fly. “No, but I did open the package before I put it in my pocket. I hoped I’d need it upon arrival.”
“So I guess opening the door in nothing but my panties was predictable?” They had been talking about how horny they both were for days, but they hadn’t even made it out of the foyer.
“Appreciated,” he murmured, kissing her bare shoulder. “You know, we could skip lunch and head directly to the bedroom.”
“We’re saving the bedroom for last.” With her most mischievous smile, she turned and walked away, forcing herself not to look over her shoulder to see if he was following. She wasn’t used to being a seductress, or even trying to be one, but she had a rich imagination and a long, detailed list of fantasies she wanted Owen to fulfill. She’d already set up each room of the house to accommodate a different sex act. She wondered, belatedly, if he’d find that odd.
She smiled to herself when his footsteps padded first against the marble and then the dark hardwood floor behind her as she made her way through the great room to the kitchen. She didn’t look at the box on the coffee table as she passed, not wanting to draw his attention to it before the time was right.
“What do you mean, save the bedroom for last?”
“Considering it’s the only room in this house where I ever had sex with my husband, I thought we’d save it for last. It’s a big house, a clean house, and all the rooms could use a little dirtying.”
“I do like the way you think.”
She stopped at the counter and began to pull out the takeout containers from the bag she’d picked up from the deli on her way home from the sex shop she’d visited that morning. Not many locals went to sex shops at ten a.m., so she’d practically had the place to herself.
“I can’t decide if I’d rather look at your tits or hold them,” he said, leaning against the counter beside her. He was no longer focused on her eyes—not even close—and while she might despise and fight sexism at work on a daily basis, when she was in her own home, with this man? She wasn’t fighting in the least. She liked that he looked at her as a desirable woman. Liked the way his tongue wet the corner of his mouth as if he were imagining her nipple between his lips.
“Can’t you do both at the same time?” she asked. “I do have two of them.”
He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose and lifted his gaze to meet hers. “I think that would result in sensory overload.”
His befuddled grin made her laugh. “Maybe I should put on some clothes.”
“I do feel overdressed,” he said, but instead of encouraging her to cover up, he stripped down to his boxers.
She allowed her eyes to feast on his broad shoulders, firm chest, ripped stomach, and the devastating vee that drew her gaze from his narrow hips before unfortunately disappearing into his shorts.
“Still overdressed,” she murmured, hoping he’d take a hint.
He slowly tugged his boxers lower, showing more vee and a hint of the root of his cock. Just a tease. Just enough to remind her how glad she was he’d come to visit.
“Enough?” he asked. She tore her gaze from his semi-peepshow to meet the challenge in his gorgeous blue eyes.
“For now,” she said, inclining her head. “I wasn’t sure what you liked—besides pastrami and rye bread—so I got a little of everything.”
She opened the lids on her favorite potato salad and on a variety of pasta salads ranging from creamy to oily to vinegar-based. She pulled out three bean salad and coleslaw, mashed potatoes, and macaroni and cheese. Next came the cheese platter, the meat platter, the veggie platter, and the fruit tray, followed by assorted dips and crackers.
“Caitlyn?” he said, his eyes still on her breasts. “Would you be terribly offended if I changed my mind?”
Her heart gave an unpleasant lurch. Was he already tired of looking at her? Jeez. At least it had taken her husband a few years before he’d started ignoring her.
“You don’t want . . .” She couldn’t bring herself to say it: me?
“I’m hungry for only one thing in this kitchen.”
“Pastrami?” she guessed.
He chuckled. “No, beautiful. Earning my pastrami,” he said. “With you.”
She flushed with pleasure. She hadn’t felt desired in so damned long, but he made her feel desirable, wanted, and beautiful. She did want to spend a little time with him that didn’t involve him buried inside her. Granted, she hoped it was very little time, but still, some.
“I skipped breakfast,” she said. “I’m starving.”
“I had a big breakfast. Homemade.”
Not from a restaurant, a deli counter, or a microwave? “You cook?”
He examined her spread of prepared foods and avoided her gaze. “Some.”
She got the feeling he wasn’t telling her the entire story and knew he was a bad liar, so she rephrased her question. “Did you cook yourself breakfast this morning?”
He reached across the counter and fixed himself a cracker with cheese and summer sausage before stuffing it into his mouth. “Uh, well,” he said, still chewing, “Lindsey cooks, I guess.”
“So Lindsey made you breakfast this morning.”
“It didn’t mean anything,” he said. “She was just being nice because I gave her a place to sleep.”
“At your house,” Caitlyn said flatly. And when he nodded slightly, she added, “I thought you were taking her to a hotel.”
“We got home really late.” He met her eyes steadily. “Nothing happened.”
She wanted to believe him, but the unwelcome vision of her husband fucking some nubile young college student on his desk invaded her thoughts. Lindsey appeared to be both nubile and college-age.
Caitlyn grabbed a paper plate and began filling it with food that no longer looked appetizing.
After a moment, Owen covered her wrist with his warm hand. “Look at me.”
She glanced at him so swiftly, she didn’t even register his expression before turning her attention back to her plate.
“Look at me, Caitlyn.”
She took a steadying breath and forced her eyes to meet his.
“Nothing happened. She slept across the hall in my guest room, and I tossed and turned all night aching with thoughts of you.”
“She’s very pretty.” The image of the gorgeous pregnant blonde clinging to Owen when she floored him with her news was permanently etched in Cai
tlyn’s mind. “And young.”
“But I don’t want her. I want you.” He cupped her breast, his thumb brushing her nipple.
She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. She wanted to believe him. She did. But some stupid part of her expected every man to betray her, every man to prefer a young, hot blonde with perfect firm tits and flawless skin. Every man to find her lacking.
“And I’d say it’s only your body I want,” he said, “but that would be a lie.”
She moaned quietly as her body began to throb beneath the light, persistent stroke of his thumb.
“In addition to being beautiful, you’re smart and funny and
Thrill Me Page 7
