Inhibitions

by Mattie Bowman

  “Owen!” I screamed so fiercely it was as if his name was a weapon.

  He glanced up, his dark eyes locking with mine, the look in them so intense I shuddered. The masked-man used Owen’s distraction to clock him across his jaw, but it barely phased him. Owen was used to taking hits, but I’d never seen him so focused, so untouched by the man fighting him.

  One more hit. That was all it took from Owen to knock the guy out, his body the last of the six to lay against the floor.

  Jumping to his feet, Owen raced over to a hub of machinery to his left and clicked a few buttons like he was an expert. The whirring sound returned, only this time I was slowly lowered to the grated level instead of jerking in the air.

  Owen met me before my feet hit the floor, unhooking me from the contraption with frantic fingers. Once he freed me of the ropes, he pulled a knife out of his pocket, popping the blade and slicing through the zip-ties around my wrists. Blood rushed to the tips of my fingers so fast it was almost painful.

  I flung my arms around his neck, pressing myself so hard to him I could’ve gone through him.

  “Come on,” he said, grabbing my hand and dragging me down the metal stairs to the ground level. “We have to hurry!”

  “What? What the hell is going on?” My feet barely touched the floor as he tugged me across it at a near run. I glanced down; my eyebrows knitted as my shoes hit the ground, which felt wobbly…almost like rubber.

  “The place is rigged to blow,” he said. “I hadn’t counted on six. We have no time.” He spun around and swiped an arm beneath my legs, cradling me to his chest as he ran out of the warehouse, and straight into the thickly wooded area that surrounded it.

  Fear pulsed colder than ever in my veins as I clung to him. A pop sounded behind us, both of us flinching as Owen spun us to look back at the warehouse.

  Flames shot upward, licking the sky in a brilliant orange glow. My hold on Owen tightened as he held me effortlessly against him. I gasped, thinking any second the entire warehouse would be engulfed and then the woods next, but it didn’t. In fact, the flames only touched the area that had no roof, as if it were…controlled.

  I glanced back at Owen, taking in his tuxedo, the top button of his shirt undone. His perfect face, with no red marks where he’d been hit. My eyes darted from him to the warehouse and back again.

  “It’s Grady,” he said, cocking an eyebrow. “Owen Grady.”

  Relief flooded my body like a liquid substance, and I collapsed against him.

  “I thought,” I said through a sob, shaking my head against his massive chest.

  He shifted me in his arms until he could see my face. “They didn’t tell you everything?”

  I shook my head again.

  Owen growled, gathering me closer to him if that was possible. “Fucking assholes,” he said. “I thought they would have…”

  The fear that had consumed me only minutes before turned into a white-hot need that pulsed in my core, fueled by Owen’s rescue. He’d always done that. Rescued me—from wild parties in college, from David—he never failed me. Ever.

  “You’re my hero,” I said, uncaring how cliché the phrase was because it was the fucking truth.

  He grinned. “I think that was the point.”

  I crushed my lips against his parting them with my tongue. He let me in, let me channel the all-consuming passion flooding my veins into him. Moving against him, I wrapped my legs around his hips, locking my body to his as I devoured his mouth. He tasted like mint and salt and everything Owen. I raked my fingers through his hair, putting everything I felt into the kiss—every doubt and fear I’d had about us melting away with each stroke of his tongue against mine.

  I jerked my head back, gasping for breath. “I love you, Owen.”

  The words left me in a breathless declaration. I hadn’t planned on saying them. Hell; I hadn’t even known I’d ever be able to say those words to anyone ever again—not in this capacity. But it was Owen, and he’d owned my heart for much longer than I’d realized.

  He cupped my cheek with his free hand, the other easily supporting me against him. He looked up at me, his dark eyes never leaving mine.

  “I love you,” he said, a smile on his lips. “I think I always have.” He shrugged like he was thinking the same thing I had—how had we not seen it?

  He inched his lips up to mine, kissing me softer. I melted into him deeper, my heart soaring so high I was sure we were floating. Carefully, Owen moved us to a large bolder that sat in between an expanse of trees, sitting on it. My knees pressed against the rock as my thighs hugged his hips.

  I slowly pushed off the tux jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, needing to feel his skin on mine, to physically confirm everything our mouths had just said.

  He kissed my neck before peeling my shirt over my head, freeing me of my bra seconds later. I moved against him, my breasts pressed against his smooth, hard chest, and hissed from the contact. Every piece of him felt good against me—his hard muscles grazing the softer parts of me, his tongue swiping over my nipples, his breath on my skin—but it wasn’t enough.

  I hopped off of him, shimmying out of my jeans, and slipping his pants down until they hung around his ankles. Immediately reclaiming my position, I teased the tip of his cock with my wetness, pleasure rolling through my body with each growl from him.

  He gripped my hips, gently controlling my movements until I’d settled on top of him, his cock sliding inside of me, filling me. Holding me there, he cupped my face in his hands and kissed me until I was breathless again. I slowly rocked on top of him, being careful not to tear up my knees on the rock in the process. With each aching thrust, Owen kissed me, touched me, held me, his fingers igniting every nerve ending in my body with brilliant electricity.

  “Owen,” I sighed, wrapping my arms around his neck, bringing our bodies flush.

  He groaned, holding me tighter, his thrusts increasing as I sank on top of him again and again. The motions sent me to the edge, and I clenched around him. He groaned and gently pushed me backward, supporting my back with one muscled arm while he used his free hand to stroke my clit. His fingers moved expertly over me, and I gasped as he pulsed inside me, the two sensations sending me flying.

  “Oh God, yes,” I said, throwing my head back and arching against him for more.

  “That’s it,” he said. “Right, there.” He increased his pressure on me, taking my orgasm past its first round and straight into a second. Tremors rocked my body as I moaned, clinging to Owen for fear of falling backward, but he had me. In every way he could, he owned me.

  He yanked me upward, bringing my face to his, and never lost my eyes as he came inside me, which only made me clench around him another time. He fingered my hair as I came down on top of him, slowing my rocking against him until I couldn’t move except to drop my head over his shoulder, completely spent.

  We sat there for what could’ve been hours, holding each other, in a silence that was filled with the love we’d confessed before, and the pleasure that had consumed us until we were both speechless. Gaining the energy, I moved and kissed him again despite my lips already being swollen.

  “I didn’t mess this one up,” I said, a laugh in my voice.

  He chuckled, the motion sending a warm chill across my skin. “I told you we just needed practice.”

  I kissed him again, swallowing his laughs and making him growl. A giddiness flew through me at the thought of all the practice I’d get to do with him. As he helped me up, and we got dressed quickly, I realized it was more than excitement over the amazing sex that was in my future with him. It was the fact that there was a future with him, outside of this resort, outside of this job. Because he loved me. Somehow, he loved me. And the happiness overwhelmed me, because after David broke my heart, I’d sworn to myself I would never let another man that close.

  Owen held my hand as he led the way back to the resort, smiling at me in contentment as we walked in silence.

  Maybe Owen had always
been this close—even before David happened—which made the promise I’d made to myself irrelevant.

  12 Owen

  “You want to sit with us?” Quinn called from across the restaurant, motioning to the booth he and Tara occupied. I glanced at Presley, leaving the decision up to her.

  “Sure,” she said, smiling as she slid into the booth.

  I filed in after her, glancing out of the floor to ceiling window that hugged it. The view was stunning—thick expanses of trees and mountains in the distance with a crystal clear blue sky above—but it had nothing on Presley. Her hair was slightly mussed, her cheeks had a soft red glow, and her eyes were blissful. I took pride in owning every inch of her current mood—we’d just come up for air after another round in our suite following the insane fantasy earlier—and I couldn’t decide if she was more beautiful this way or when she was all dolled up. Hell, she was beautiful to me even when she’d been sick and spilling her guts all over the place.

  “How has your morning been?” She asked while flipping open a menu.

  Tara and Quinn exchanged a nervous glance that made me study the menu Presley had open a little harder. It was as if they were the ones in a new relationship—not married for…how long had Tara said? Sixteen years?

  “Good,” they both said at the same time and a little too quickly.

  Presley chuckled, glancing at me. “Ours too.”

  The way she said ours made me want to suck her bottom lip into my mouth and make her moan again. Since Quinn and Tara had already seen too much of us yesterday in the Wonderland room, I decided to quell the urge. It was difficult, this new rush hard to control. Presley loved me. I couldn’t fucking believe it. This wasn’t just a job to her. Not just a twist for her story. And knowing that fact had only made every kiss sweeter, every sigh sexier.

  And today’s fantasy? Forget about it. That had been all me, and I couldn’t wait to shake Grant’s hand or bow down to him. Sure, I was pissed his team hadn’t prepped Presley, but I could see how it would’ve taken away from the rescue illusion. And while I was sorry she had thought it was real for a moment; I wasn’t sorry about the result it’d had. The rush, the life-or-death feel of it had made us finally speak our minds. It had brought the love right to the forefront of everything, and now she was really, truly, mine.

  I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, not because I had to put on an act, but because I wanted to. In fact, I was sure there wouldn’t be a moment where I didn’t want to be touching her.

  “How much longer do you two have?” Presley asked after we’d placed our dinner orders.

  Tara cut her eyes to Quinn before taking a sip of water.

  “Few more days,” he said, shifting in the seat.

  He didn’t touch Tara, and it was hard not to notice. Maybe it was because this was all so new to us that I found it strange. Maybe after over a decade of marriage, you didn’t have to be affectionate every second of the day. Looking at Presley, I couldn’t imagine a time where that would be possible. I was sure after we’d been together that long I’d still be fucking her in the washroom while she attempted to do laundry.

  Wait, what? You want to marry her?

  A rope snaked around my chest and tightened until I could barely breathe. I took my arm off of Presley’s shoulders in an attempt to gain a full breath. Flashes of the life I’d grown so used to living—fights, gym-time, and nightly encounters with a new woman every night—burst behind my closed eyelids.

  “Are you all right?” Presley asked, her hand on my back.

  Her touched soothed the tension between my shoulders, and a breath filled my lungs. New images—her in a cotton robe in our home, me slipping my hand between it as I distracted her from her morning coffee in our kitchen; her sitting ringside, cheering me on, the glittering from a diamond on her left hand near blinding underneath the lights; her holding our baby on her hip—replaced the empty ones of my past. Presley was my future in every sense of the word.

  It’s been one day. The voice in the back of my head reminded me. But, in reality, I’d loved her for much longer…longer than some people are even engaged. Shit. Engaged. I wanted it. I wanted to put a ring on her finger and claim her as mine for real. The idea of anyone else thinking they had a shot with her made acid boil in my gut.

  But I’d seen a ring on her finger before. And it nearly crushed her when it ended. Would she want to go through that again? Not that I’d ever be stupid enough to cheat on her, or that any woman could ever capture my attention like she did, but the engagement part? The wedding? Would she turn me down if I asked? Could I survive that?

  “I’m fine,” I said, realizing I hadn’t answered her yet. I shook her hand off, needing the moment to gather myself before I lost my shit and fell to one knee right then and there just to see what her answer would be.

  I had time. We had plenty of time to figure this out. Despite repeating this to myself, I couldn’t stop my mind from racing with thoughts on how I would propose, what I would say, what kind of ring she’d want. It was like I’d always thought about this, but before now, I’d honestly thought I’d be a bachelor forever, that I’d just fight, fuck, and repeat.

  How bleak that looked now, with Presley next to me.

  “Thank you so much,” Presley said, and I blinked a few times, wondering what I’d missed.

  Tara handed Presley’s cell back to her, and she put it back in her bag. “I’m not sure if I’ll need it but having another couple to talk to as I’m writing will be wonderful.”

  I glanced at Quinn, who sat extremely still, staring at his ice water like it might get up and dance at any moment. Fuck, what was going on with the dude? I highly doubted there was any chance they’d messed up as many fantasies as we had—the thought made me chuckle to myself—but I locked it down as our waitress brought our food.

  We ate in a not all-together awkward silence. After the fourth time Tara had looked at Quinn, her lips parting as if to say something and then shutting them, I shoved my half eaten steak away.

  “I’m full,” I said, eyeing Quinn. “Want to shoot some pool, let the girls have…girl time?”

  He nodded, but then we both looked at our respective girls. Presley squinted slightly as if she could see right through me. I silently told her I felt obligated to talk to the dude, as he appeared in desperate need of it.

  “Sounds good to me,” Presley said after we were done talking it out telepathically as we often did.

  Tara slipped out of the booth to let Quinn out, and she reached for his hand, her fingers barely brushing his as he walked by. I winked at Presley and clapped Quinn on the back as we walked out of the restaurant and headed down the hallway to the billiard’s room.

  For some reason, my gut was heavy as I racked the balls together. It was like I’d known Quinn for years and was worried about the guy. Maybe this resort—the intimacy surrounding every aspect of the stay—heightened the bonds between people too. I shrugged to myself, thinking of how this place seemed like some otherworldly establishment that would be featured in a fantasy film.

  “You break,” I said, holding a cue between my hands. The entire room was filled with pool tables, a few shuffleboard tables, and a bar in the back. It was not-shockingly, empty. I imagined there weren’t many couples wasting their time playing pool when they could be upstairs in the Wonderland rooms or taking part in other fantasies.

  “All right,” he said and broke, sinking a striped ball into a corner pocket. “Damn it,” he snapped when he failed to sink another stripe on his second attempt.

  I knocked in a solid. “What’s up?”

  He glared at me and shrugged.

  “Okay, then.” I missed my second shot.

  He missed another try, and his knuckles whitened he gripped the stick so hard.

  “Would you rather track down the gym?” I asked, sinking another solid. “I bet they have a ring we could use.”

  His eyes widened before he chuckled. “I’m pissed, not suicidal.”

&nbs
p; “I can see that. Want to talk about it?”

  “Is this where we bond?” He shook his head and took his shot.

  “Maybe. Just trying to help.”

  “Why?” He asked. “You don’t even know me.”

  Truth. “I don’t know, man. Presley likes you, you play cards, you’re not horrible at pool, and you’ve got a nice wife.” I shrugged. “I guess I’m just in an overly good-mood. Want to spread that shit around.”

  He laughed again. “Yeah, you two seem to be having a much better time than us.” His eyes dropped to the table, and I wondered if he was thinking about when he’d walked in on us yesterday. Then I stopped thinking about it because the idea that he’d seen Presley naked didn’t sit well with me, even though it wasn’t his fault.

  “We’ve had our obstacles,” I said, looking at him knowingly.

  “It said it was vacant.” He raised his hands in defense backing away from the table to sit on a barstool.

  “I know,” I said, rolling my eyes. “She forgot.”

  “Understandable.”

  “That wasn’t our only issue, though,” I said.

  “Yeah?”

  I nodded.

  “You can’t tell.” He twisted the cue in his hand absentmindedly. “Not like you can with us, obviously.”

  “So what is it? Seriously, what could be so bad that would make you…” I motioned to his tense frame. “Like you are?”

  He slit his eyes. “Look, it’s a lot different when you’ve been married as long as we have. Things are…complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”

  I sighed. “Fair enough.” I leaned on my cue next to him. “I don’t know shit about marriage, hell, about any relationship that is supposed to last longer than a night.” He tilted his head, and I pushed on, trying to cover up my slip. “But I do know something about loving someone so much you ache when they’re not next to you. That you’d do anything to put a smile on her face, to hear her laugh. And I can see you feel that way about Tara.”