Wants & Needs (Love at First Sight Book 4)

by Mia Madison

  Before anyone could even try to figure out what he was thinking—his fist clenched and landed on Owen’s jaw with a loud thud.

  “Landon!” Mom screamed.

  Dad didn’t seem to hear her and as Owen backed away to avoid being hit again, I ran forward and threw myself between them.

  “Stop! Please!”

  I didn’t know what was going through his head, but his eyes were clouded with anger. He didn’t look directly at me—no, his eyes went right past me and stared at Owen with seething hatred.

  “What the fuck, Owen?” he screamed. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

  “I’m sorry!” he yelled back, straightening to full height. “Damn it, Landon! Do you really think I did it on purpose? Do you think I asked for this?!”

  “How long?” Dad asked, ignoring Owen’s plea. “Tell me how long this has been going on!”

  “Does it matter? If I told you it just happened, would it make it any better?”

  “Did you…” Mom started, trailing off to clear her throat as everyone turned to look at her. She focused on me, her voice breaking as she asked, “Did he touch you when you were younger?”

  “Of course not!” I denied immediately. “We barely ever spent time together before he moved back.”

  Mom nodded, the relief evident on her face. Dad wasn’t so easy to pacify.

  “This is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself as he shoved his palms into his eyes and shook his head. “For fuck’s sake. You’re twenty years older than her! How could you possibly love her?!”

  Owen sighed and shrugged, holding his hands in the air in a move that practically invited my dad to punch him again.

  “I don’t know what to tell you. I love you like a brother, Landon. I want to be your friend, but I need her. I’m so fucking sorry,” he said sadly, his shoulders slouching. He turned to me and quietly said, “Pack a bag.”

  I didn’t wait to hear my parents’ responses—though I did hear their outraged cries as I spun on my heel and rushed to my bedroom. Their voices raised to shouting as I quickly packed my largest suitcase full of things I didn’t want to leave behind, my heart thudding rapidly in my chest.

  I wasn’t going to question Owen now. He was giving up a lot for me and I didn’t need to even think about returning the favor. I grabbed my book bag and hoisted it on my shoulder before flipping off the light in my bedroom—likely for good.

  When I got back to the foyer, Owen had a bloody lip and my father was clutching his nose while Mom stood by crying. Owen’s shoulders were rising and falling with anger until his gaze drifted over to me and his expression softened.

  He held a hand out to me and I took it without question. Even though he quickly let go in favor of carrying my bag—I still felt a surge of strength from the brief touch.

  I turned to my parents and sadly said, “I love him. I can’t help it.”

  I couldn’t even look at Dad, but I noticed Mom’s lips purse together while her eyes glittered with unshed tears. Mine were as well. Neither said a word, so I turned around and exited the house.

  Before I pulled the front door shut, I whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  The trip back to Owen’s house was entirely silent, both of us numbed by the loss of our families. But the way he clutched at my hand told me he didn’t regret his decision. Despite how torn up I was inside—I couldn’t say that I regretted it either.

  I did wish he would have given me a little warning, though. Maybe we could have found a way to fess up without punches being thrown.

  Once we were inside the house, I snapped into motion and ran for the bathroom to get a wet washcloth. Owen ran after me and slumped against the doorframe when he realized what I was doing.

  “You should put some ice on it,” I said as I softly dabbed at the drying blood on his lip. “How bad is it?”

  “Hurts like hell. Can’t complain, though. I do deserve it.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  Owen’s laugh was humorless and pained. “Put yourself in his shoes, Charlie. Frankly—I believe I deserve a lot worse.”

  “Are you having second thoughts? About us?”

  The sour look on his face melted after my softly spoken question and he immediately shook his head.

  “Oh, princess—no. Never. I meant what I said to your this morning. It’s just… It hurts, you know?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I do,” I sadly agreed. Desperate to find a silver lining somewhere in the whole mess, I said, “I bet Finley will be happy for us.”

  Realizing what I was trying to do, he smiled and brushed the hair out of my face.

  “Yeah, she probably will.”

  “She really believes that they’ll warm up to Charles eventually. Maybe… Maybe they’ll warm up to us as well?”

  “It’s a little different, sweetheart. Charles didn’t betray their trust like I did.”

  “But—”

  “Shhh,” he hushed with a finger over my lips. “Can we drop the subject? Just for tonight.”

  “I’d really like that,” I said with a little laugh. “So… Am I living here now? Is that why you asked me to pack a bag?”

  “It is. I’d like this to be our home.”

  Between the agreement to drop the subject of my parents and the news that I was welcome to live with Owen—a huge smile spread across my face. I stood up on my tip-toes to kiss him, wincing when he flinched and drew back.

  “I’m sorry! I forgot.”

  “I wish I could,” he said, reaching for me when I started to move away. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “You’re hurt and—”

  “And that means we’ll have to be real gentle about kissing. Everything else is fair game.”

  As understanding of what he meant dawned on me, I felt myself smirking.

  “Maybe we should move this to the bedroom.”

  “Mmm, we really should,” he murmured as his hands slid behind me to cup my ass. “I can’t not take you on our first night living together, now can I?”

  “It wouldn’t be very welcoming of you.”

  “Oh, I intend to be very welcoming, baby. Come.”

  I had to stifle a giggle when he suggestively waggled his eyebrows before leading me into his—our—bedroom. He grinned as he made short work of my clothes and lifted me up to toss me on the bed like I weighed nothing.

  “You love it when I do that, don’t you?” he asked as he stripped off his shirt.

  “It’s really hot,” I admitted, feeling my cheeks heat up.

  It was still amazing to me how brazen I ended up being when we were both naked and rolling in the sheets, but other times, I still felt like the shy girl I truly was. Owen never complained. He actually seemed to like my dual personalities. It was the biggest reason why I never bothered to fight my natural shy urges.

  Like when he crawled up the bed still clad in his pants and I covered my chest and closed my legs. He growled and yanked them apart—immediately dipping down to bury his tongue in my folds.

  It wasn’t with the same gusto he usually pleasured me with and his hesitance was all the reminder I needed to keep from squirming against his bruised lip. I clenched my teeth together and twisted the sheets in my hands as I fought my body’s natural instincts.

  After only a few short minutes of bliss, I had to beg him to stop. I couldn’t control myself any longer. When he aggressively unbuckled his belt and tore off his jeans, I realized it didn’t bother him a bit.

  I watched as he finished undressing, knowing that he would soon crawl between my legs and begin to fuck me. Which meant I’d have to concentrate on not kissing him like I normally did.

  Instead of ruining the night by not being entirely in the moment, I rolled to my stomach and stuck my ass in the air—freezing when he went deathly still. I turned my head to look at him, but his gaze was focused on my ass.

  “You want it like this?” he asked when he finally realized I was staring at him.

  “I don’t want to accidentall
y kiss you too hard and wreck the moment,” I explained, feeling completely vulnerable as he continued to stare.

  But just as I was about to let my embarrassment get the better of me—his palm landed on my ass with a loud crack and I jolted forward in surprise. Before I could recover, his hands gripped my hips and pulled me forcefully back to him—his cock sliding into me without warning.

  The sound I let out was somewhere between a moan and a squeal and Owen excitedly slapped my ass again before he started pumping into me. I wasn’t able to writhe much in his grip and I didn’t want to when he eventually let go of one side to slide his hand around my front and find my clit.

  His name fell from my lips in a long groan and I bucked back, driving him deeper into me and eliciting a groan from his lips that rivaled mine. He was bent so far forward that I could almost feel his swollen lips grazing my shoulder as he began to whisper.

  “You’re so sexy, princess. Made me crazy to see your ass sticking up in the air like that. Did you like it when I spanked you?”

  “Yes, yes, yes!” I chanted.

  Though I really did like it, I wasn’t entirely sure that I would have been able to say anything else in that moment. Not when I was teetering so close to the edge.

  “You’re gonna come for me,” he panted, his forehead resting on my shoulder. “You’re gonna drench me. You’re gonna squeeze my cock so damn hard I’ll pop immediately. Do it. Come.”

  Even without the stimulation on my clit—I was sure I would have come just from the sound of his voice. He was hitting the perfect spot inside me with every stroke and it felt like fire flooded through my veins when I finally tensed and released.

  “That’s a good girl,” he moaned as I came on him. “God, I love you.”

  He was coming before I could return the sentiment—stilling the movement of his hips and erupting with a roar of ecstasy. When my senses returned after the force of my own climax, I rocked my hips gently in an effort to help prolong his. The sound of his gasp made my walls clench.

  We stayed like that—gently moving against each other—for a few long minutes before we both succumbed to exhaustion.

  I was staring blankly up at the ceiling when Owen returned with a warm washcloth and cleaned up the mess between my thighs. After he was beneath the blankets with me, I curled my arm around his chest and smiled when I felt him return the embrace.

  “I love you, too,” I sleepily said as my eyes started to close. “Just you and me.”

  Owen hummed and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead before he tightened his grip on me.

  “You and me—forever.”

  11

  Living with Owen was more fun than I ever could have imagined. Since the first morning we woke up together, it was a kind of domestic bliss I hadn’t ever experienced. Beyond living with a man for the first time, it was also my first time being away from my parents. So there was also a feeling of freedom that came with it.

  One afternoon when I had the day off, I even invited Layla over to spend the day with me. We had sipped champagne in the hot tub while excitedly chatting about how well our lives had been going lately.

  But beneath the happiness Owen and I both felt, there was still a sad weight on both our hearts. The day Owen started work was the most nervous I had ever seen him and it ended up being in vain because my dad had called in sick.

  After the orientation was done, Owen said he caught a glimpse of Dad on site one day. They didn’t exchange anything more than a glance and the real reason why he had missed the first few days was clear.

  I had all but lost hope of them ever making up. Finley had been equal parts happy and worried for me when I called to tell her what was going on and she promised to work on Dad whenever he finally accepted Charles. Even over the phone, I could hear the apprehension in her voice.

  She was starting to lose hope as well.

  As the semester drew closer to starting again, Margret gave me fewer shifts at Clark’s. I didn’t mind it—especially not now that I had a home to help take care of. Mom usually handled everything at home before I had a chance to offer assistance. Here, Owen and I shared the household work equally.

  One day as I was switching over loads of laundry, the doorbell rang. I startled and looked up at the clock—wondering who would be visiting either of us at ten in the morning on a week day. My first instinct was to ignore it, but the bell rang again and I forced myself to answer the door like an adult. I just hoped it wasn’t a salesman. I wasn’t good at face-to-face confrontation.

  Definitely not a salesman, I thought after I opened the door and my jaw dropped in shock.

  “Dad.”

  He gave me the smallest smile and a nod before mumbling my name in reply. I glanced down at his full hands and shook myself out of my stupor, reaching out to accept the plastic container he held.

  “Do you want to come in?”

  “Yeah.”

  I stepped back to let him inside and closed the door, trying to look through the top part of the container. It wasn’t until I registered the warmth of the bottom that the scent of lasagna hit my nose.

  “Your mother made it for you… and him,” he muttered before lifting the bag in his other hand. “This is stuff she thought you might need. Your music player and God knows what else.”

  It was clear that the only reason he came was due to my mom’s prodding—but I couldn’t find it in me to be angry about that. It actually made me feel lighter to know that at least one of my parents wanted to repair the rift.

  “Thank you,” I said as I took the bag from his hand and sat it down near the stairs. “Why aren’t you at work?”

  “I’ve got a lot of comp time saved up,” he explained as he looked around at everything but me.

  “Oh, okay. Would you like a drink?”

  He looked like he wanted to bolt, but he let out a heavy gust of breath before nodding. I led him to the kitchen and sat the lasagna on the counter, watching him look around the room curiously.

  “You really have moved in,” he said, more to himself than to me. “What’s all this?”

  He gestured to the paperwork scattered around the kitchen table and I hurriedly rushed to try to straighten it up.

  “The messy part is my enrollment papers for the new semester. The neat stack is Owen’s stuff—building permits or something,” I explained as I stacked up my own paperwork to make the table a little more presentable. “What do you want to drink?”

  He rolled his eyes as he chuckled and shook his head. “We both know I’m not here for a drink. Your mother wants me to talk to you.”

  I nervously twisted my hands together and asked, “About what?”

  “About you coming home.”

  Just like that—the smidgen of happiness I felt fell away and was replaced with incredulity.

  “I am home, Dad. This is my home now. I can’t believe Mom would—”

  “Just… stop. That’s not why she sent me here—though I wish it was,” he admitted before he sat down at the table. “She’s apparently decided to be in your corner for this round.”

  “Round? Dad—this isn’t a boxing match. This is my life!” I exclaimed, desperate to make him understand. “It’s not about picking sides—it’s about supporting your daughters because you love them!”

  The room became very quiet as Dad contemplated my words and I watched closely for any sign that I might have gotten through to him. His eyes were sad for a long moment, but the typical wall went back up and he let out a huff of frustration.

  “Your mom misses you.”

  “Do you miss me? Do you miss Finley?” I asked, feeling slightly satisfied when his head snapped up. “Because you realize you’ll lose us both if you don’t get over it. You can’t stay mad at us forever, Dad.”

  Another uncomfortable pause, only broken when he miserably said, “I’m not mad at you or your sister. I’m mad at the men you’ve chosen and… and I’m mad at myself.”

  That wasn’t what I expected. With a puz
zled frown, I asked, “Why?”

  “Because I’m the one to blame for this!” he shouted, slamming his palm down on the table. “If I hadn’t—If I had let you girls date, maybe you would have had normal relationships with boys your own age. Maybe you would have gotten a better understanding of what a healthy relationship is.”

  “I don’t need experience to know what a healthy relationship is. You’re equal partners. You respect each other. You sacrifice for each other. You don’t harm one another—physically or emotionally. You take care of each other. I know what love is, Dad. I saw it every day of my life growing up with you and Mom.”

  He was stunned. Even though my father had never been an emotional man, I swore I saw unshed tears glistening in his eyes. But just as quick as they came, they disappeared as he turned away and stared at the stack of Owen’s paperwork.

  “And that’s what you have? He doesn’t… take advantage of you?”

  “He loves me, Dad. He’d never hurt me and you know it.”

  “I hate this,” he muttered miserably. “I hate that I know I’ll never get back the friendship we had.” He paused and let out a slow breath before he added, “But I won’t stand in your way. As long as you swear to me you’ll come home if he ever makes you uncomfortable. You come and tell me, okay?”

  His voice cracked and I felt my lip wobbling as I struggled to hold in my emotions.

  “I promise.”

  “I love you, honey. Come here.”

  He rose from the table and we shared a hug—one I was certain was mainly so he could hide his own emotions while he regained control. We stood there for a long moment before we pulled away and I smiled up at him sadly.

  “Does this mean you’re going to stop being so hard on Finley, too?”

  “It means I’ll try,” he grumbled. “That’s all I can promise for both of you.”

  “It’s more than I expected, honestly,” I said with a shrug. “Are you going to talk to Owen?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Please don’t punch him again.”

  “No promises,” he said with a chuckle. He looked around the room, his eyes lingering on the counter for a moment before he sighed in resignation. “Why don’t I bring your mother by tonight for dinner? Unless you have plans already.”