Inhibitions

by Mattie Bowman

  Maybe she does feel it. Maybe I’m not alone in this.

  “Owen,” she whispered, gripping the side of my T-shirt like she wanted to pull me closer despite there only being inches between us.

  I placed a hand on the counter on either side of her. “Yes?”

  She licked her lips, her chest rising and falling from her quickened breaths. The simple motion made blood rush straight to my dick. Fuck, I could’ve been in high school again with how easily I’d been getting hard around her lately.

  A slight tilt in her head and I saw it. The want. The need.

  I moved closer, pushing my knee between her thighs while I inched my lips toward hers.

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  The fucking sound jolted us both, and I quickly stepped backward.

  “That’s probably for you,” she said, breathless as if we’d just run a marathon instead of standing perfectly still. “Today is yours.” She made her voice more even.

  I hurried to the door and mentally high-fived myself when I flung it open without growling—a feat with what was just interrupted.

  Anderson and a petite brunette stood outside the door. The sight of our butler made me want to snarl like a wild animal, but I kept my shit in check, resigning myself with a good appraisal of him.

  “Mr. Grady?” She asked.

  “Yeah?”

  “Hi, Jessica,” Presley said from right behind me, and I moved so she could stand next to me.

  “Hey there, Presley,” she said. “I’m here to collect your man.”

  The two girls giggled like they had some secret language despite having just met.

  “Good. He needs a good collecting.” Presley joked, and I looked at her sideways. Had our almost moment in the kitchen not ruffled her even a tiny bit? I could still feel its effects in the way my shorts hung off my hips.

  “If you’re here for me,” I said and pointed to the butler. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Owen!” Presley smacked me on the chest and I oomphed out a breath.

  “I needed to speak with, Presley.” There was something different about the way he said her name…familiarity. I didn’t like it.

  “About what?” I asked, and Presley scoffed at me, flipping her long blond hair over her shoulder.

  “Does it matter?” She challenged.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Grady, but we really should go. You have a session with Grant before the second fantasy.”

  “Yes, Owen. You should really be off.” She rolled her eyes and motioned for Anderson to come inside.

  He tried to melt into the opposite side of the doorframe to avoid bumping me. Well, at least he was somewhat smart. Though, hitting on my girl was fucking stupid. But she wasn’t my girl—not that he knew that, though—unless she’d told him? Fuck.

  “This way,” Jessica said and ushered me into the hallway. I spared one glance over my shoulder, but Presley was already back in the kitchen, pouring more coffee. “You all right, Mr. Grady?” She had stopped a few feet in front of me when she noticed I hadn’t followed her.

  “Owen,” I said, catching up with her. “And I’m fine.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you look it.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  She stopped at the top of the staircase, eyeing me up and down. I followed her gaze, taking in my flip flops, sleep shorts and wrinkled T-shirt. Cracking a grin, I motioned down the hallway. “Do I need to go change?”

  “No. We have clothes for you.” She chuckled and started down the stairs.

  “Clothes, not costumes?” I followed her down.

  “Not unless you had something specific in mind?” She arched an eyebrow at me as she led me to Grant’s “office”.

  “No, not at all.” I didn’t have a clue what Grant pulled from my answers. I was a straight up simple guy. Sure, I had fantasies…what man didn’t? But one I truly wanted to carry out? No idea. I definitely didn’t have one as detailed as Presley had with her sexy stripper show. Mine were more centered around being naked and fucking—if it was in an exotic locale, cool, if not…well, it was still sex.

  Except with Presley, it wouldn’t just be sex. It would mean so much more because I knew her—knew what made her cry, laugh, and pissed. Knew what it took to get her to laugh when she was so frustrated with me she could go ten rounds and hold her own. Understood perfectly what I had to do to get her to come out of herself when the memories of her past made her withdraw inward. It was Presley…my Presley, and if we crossed that line, there would be no going back.

  “Grant is incredibly good at what he does,” Jessica said, opening his door for me. “You should get that after Presley’s epic performance.” She winked at me and shut me inside.

  “Owen!” Grant said, and I whirled around.

  “Grant,” I said, thankful he had a book in his hand instead of doing a yoga pose.

  He smacked the book closed. “Are you ready to go on your adventure?”

  “It’s an adventure?”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “Isn’t it always?”

  I laughed and shrugged.

  “Well, this one will be. You, Sir, I’ve surmised get off on the thrill of getting caught.”

  My jaw almost unhinged it dropped so fast. I shifted my weight and rubbed the back of my neck. Fuck this guy was good. “I may enjoy the idea of a public setting.” Not that I’d ever acted on it, unless you counted a locked bathroom in a bar—which I didn’t.

  Grant nodded like I’d answered a question. “Where I’m sending you is very public, yet private enough to be intimate.”

  “Sounds contradicting.”

  He smirked. “You’ll see.” He clapped me on the shoulder and pointed to the couch. “Jessica was dear enough to set some things out for you. Proper attire in case you want to explore the mountainside afterward.”

  I glanced down at a few pair of sturdy jeans, breathable cotton shirts, and hiking boots. I grabbed a few at random. “Where the hell are you sending us that we’d need hiking boots?”

  “All in good time,” he said. “I’ll leave you to get changed.”

  I waited in the Gondola, my heart hammering out a sick beat against my chest. Any minute Presley would arrive, and we’d have the spacious ride all to ourselves as it carried us up the mountainside and back again. The thing was made of nearly all glass windows so people could take in the gorgeous views, but as Grant had pointed out, it was also the perfect public place to conduct fantasy number two—because while we had one to ourselves, there was a line of tourists behind me that had nothing to do with the resort.

  A succession of knots twisted themselves in my gut. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been nervous about a girl, and I never had once been that way with Presley—but after this morning’s almost kiss, that line we’d drawn was beyond blurry. And here, in the midst of all this? I was ready to break it in fucking half.

  I took my eyes off the gorgeous mountain we’d soon rise above, turning to look down the concrete path that led me here. Presley walked next to Anderson toward our Gondola, dodging patrons waiting to take the next available ones in groups. This wasn’t owned by the resort—Grant had merely secured us a private ride, a rarity. Jessica had given me an iPhone that worked as a remote safety button and would cue her and other staff to help us if we got into trouble. I’d taken it but looked at her like she was insane. There was nothing Presley could do to me that would ever make me press that button.

  The sight of Anderson, smiling and laughing at something she said brought all the jealousy and anger back. Was she flirting with him? Was I completely off base in thinking she was feeling something too?

  “Hey,” she said, stepping inside the ride as Anderson closed the door behind her. He tapped the glass twice before giving the operator in the booth several yards back a thumbs up.

  “Hi,” I said, sharper than I’d meant to.

  Her shoulders dropped. “You’re mad? Is it that off base?”

  “Yo
u really don’t have a clue do you?” I asked, my jealousy overwriting all rational thought.

  “What?” She jolted slightly as the Gondola started its progression upward.

  “What were you doing with him last night?” I blurted the question out, pointing at where Anderson stood talking to Jessica below us.

  Her eyes jumped between them and me and back again. “Are you serious?” she chuckled.

  “Dead.”

  The laugh died on her lips, and she slit her eyes. “You think I slept with him?”

  “I don’t have a clue!” The windows behind her filled with lush green views of the mountainside, making her look like a fiery-eyed goddess. One I’d pissed off.

  “Do you know me at all? How could you think that?” She flung her hands in the air. “And what if I did, Owen? You are the poster boy for casual sex!”

  I curled my hands into fists and clenched my eyes shut. “Please fucking tell me you didn’t sleep with him.” My voice was a lethal whisper as she didn’t immediately, outright deny it.

  “Of course not,” she said and sucked in a trembling breath. I opened my eyes, knowing she was on the verge of tears. “I needed air. I got lost. Found him playing poker.”

  That explains it. The woman was a sucker for cards. Shit.

  “I’m an asshole,” I said, and she whipped her head up, locking eyes with me. A dance of humor flashed across them before hurt replaced it.

  “What the hell, Owen?”

  I stepped closer to her, my arms open. “I’m sorry.”

  She fell against my chest, allowing me to envelop her in a hug, which was how all our arguments ended. I gently pushed her away. “Why did you need air? You were outside when I left you.”

  She took a step back, running her fingers through her hair. “Why did you care?” she asked again. I stalked her as she retreated until her back hit the glass. “Owen?” She asked when I hadn’t said anything.

  I cupped her cheek and took a deep breath. I wouldn’t lie to her. “Because the idea of you with another man makes me sick.”

  Her signature worry wrinkle furrowed between her brow. “That’s not fair. You can’t make me this perfect, pure woman in your head. I’m allowed to want things.”

  “I’m not trying to make you anything,” I said. “Except…” I licked my lips as I inched closer to her face. “Mine.”

  “Wha—”

  I cut her off with a brush of my lips against hers. She sighed, arching her head back to give me a better angle, and I claimed her mouth for my own. A gasp flew from her as I slipped my tongue between her lips, relishing the taste. So fucking sweet.

  She fisted the back of my shirt, jerking me closer to her as I traced the edges of her teeth with my tongue. I pressed her against the glass, grabbing behind her knee to hook her leg around my hip. There, she fit perfectly, and there was no hiding the hard-on she’d given me with just a kiss.

  The hottest fucking kiss in the history of time. I took her mouth in a primal declaration of need.

  “Wait,” she pushed against my chest but didn’t move her leg. She glanced around us, the impeccable mountain views taking up almost all of the windows, but she focused on the Gondolas ahead and behind us. They were enough distance away that a simple glance wouldn’t signify anything, but if someone cared to look at us, they would know. “Someone could see us. We could get arrested for public indecency.”

  I cocked an eyebrow at her, planting kisses down her neck. “So.”

  “Oh my God,” she said, and I sucked at her collarbone. She rolled her hips against me, so I did it again. “This is you.”

  “Owen,” I said just in case she’d forgotten my name.

  “You want to get caught.”

  I nibbled the shell of her ear before returning to her mouth, needing another taste. Fuck, how could I have spent the last five years not kissing her? She moaned when I arched her head back farther, getting a deeper angle to stroke her with my tongue.

  A low growl rumbled from my chest, and I grabbed hold of her other leg, hefting her up. She wrapped her arms around my neck without breaking our lips and rocked against me.

  “Presley.” I sighed between her lips as I carefully sank on one of the benches connected to the walls, keeping her connected to me.

  “Me,” she said, pointing at herself with one hand and gripping a handful of my hair with the other. She jerked my head back, setting her teeth to my neck. I jolted underneath her, hissing in pure pleasure as she rolled her hips against me.

  Slipping my hands below the hem of her shirt, I explored the soft skin of her back. “You feel so fucking good.”

  She grinned, her lips slightly swollen and her eyes hooded. “You taste so fucking good,” she mimicked me, and I groaned as she kissed me again, my dick aching to get out of these pants and to sink deep inside her.

  “Wait,” I said, gently grasping her shoulders. “I want this. I really do.”

  “So do I,” she said, swallowing hard. She glanced behind her, eyeing the Gondola’s behind us again. She whirled her head back around, her lips crushing mine. “I don’t even care who sees, Owen. I just want you. Now.”

  I reached up higher, stroking her breast over her lacy bra, desperate to rid her of the clothes. My ears popped, the pressure in the Gondola slightly shifting the higher it took us up. I ignored it, and tugged at the base of her shirt in question. She broke our kiss long enough to lift her arms over her head, and I slipped it over in one quick swoop.

  She wore a red lace bra, the same red as the bikini that had driven me nuts last night. “Fuck, Presley.” I nipped at her breast over the fabric. “You’re going to kill me.”

  She moaned as I pulled the lace down, taking a nipple into my mouth and rolling my tongue over it. Craning her head back, she gave me the go-signal, and I worked up and down her chest as she squirmed on top of me, grinding against my dick every time I set my mouth on her.

  “Owen,” she said, an urgent need in her tone.

  “Yes,” I said, matching her with want while I traced the edges of her jeans with my fingers.

  She flipped upright, her body going completely still. I glanced up, her face shifting from pure need to utter fear in one second.

  She clutched her stomach and leaped off me.

  And threw up at my feet.

  The breath stalled in my lungs for about ten seconds before my brain clicked on and I jumped into action, drawing her hair behind her back.

  “Oh...my…God…” she said between heaves as she spilled the contents of her stomach on the floor of the Gondola.

  I pressed my lips together. “That is definitely not the reason why I thought you’d be saying that today.”

  “Why…does this always…happen…to…me?” Tears streamed down her cheeks, and I stroked her back.

  “It’s not you, Presley. It’s the altitude. It affects people differently.”

  Her heaves stopped, and after a few moments, she simply rested on her knees, crying. I lifted her to her feet before swiping an arm underneath her leg, carrying her to the corner farthest from her breakfast.

  “I’m the worst.” She clenched her eyes shut, hiding her face against my chest.

  “You’re not.”

  “I ruined everything. And I only have so many chances…” she sniffed that quick way she did when she was working up to a good bawl.

  “Stop,” I said. “There isn’t a clock.”

  “Yes there is. You’re only mine while we’re here. I know that.”

  “What?”

  “Come on, Owen. I know once we leave everything has to go back to normal. I’m fine with that, I just wanted…”

  “Stop,” I cut her off. “This isn’t because of the resort or for the fucking article. I want you, Presley. And not just for the experience of having my best friend. I—“

  She jerked up again covering her mouth. I braced myself for the onslaught but she relaxed a fraction after a few minutes, and nothing happened.

  “Stay here,” I
said, sitting her down gently. I scanned the area where I’d thrown her shirt. “Oh, you have horrible aim,” I said, trying not to laugh. She’d hosed half her shirt.

  “I hate my life.” She sunk her head into her knees as I walked back to her, stripping off my shirt.

  “Arms up,” I demanded. She relented, and I slipped it over her head, pulling it down until she was successfully covered.

  “Now what?” She groaned, her head back between her knees.

  I sighed, reaching into my pocket. I held the iPhone Jessica had given me. I’d been wrong—I guess there was something Presley could do to make me push the help button.

  9 Presley

  I brushed my teeth for the tenth time in the last hour before stepping out of the bathroom in our suite. Owen was right outside the door, concern coloring his eyes.

  “Better?” He asked, hopeful.

  I groaned and walked past him, my stomach twisting from both sickness and embarrassment. I mean, seriously, how could this happen? Did I have a mortification trigger somewhere that only got squeezed when I was about to have sex with Owen?

  Hugging the robe around me, I curled up on the bed and shut my eyes. The only problem with that was the replay of the scene, over and over again in my head. One second I’d been on cloud nine—and almost close enough to touch it—with Owen, and the next a wave of nausea had hit me like I was stranded in the middle of a turbulent ocean in nothing but a row boat.

  The thought made acid bubble in my throat, and I groaned again. Owen jumped up from where he’d sat next to me and disappeared.

  I wished he would, just for enough time to pass where we could forget the entire thing…so like ten years? Twenty? Not only him, but Anderson and Jessica had been waiting for us when the Gondola descended—one with bags and nausea meds and the other with cleaning supplies. I owed Anderson so much.

  “Here,” Owen said, and I opened my eyes. He lifted my hair and placed an icy-cold washcloth on the back of my neck. The rolling acid in my throat calmed until I couldn’t feel it and I relaxed under his touch.

  “Thank you,” I said, sighing. “I’m so sorry.”