Jamie continued to throw rocks, his mouth tense.
Cruz followed his gaze. “Is that boy sad?”
“I’m sure he is.”
“Was your brother a good dad?”
“No, he wasn’t.”
Cruz turned back to Owen, solemn.
“How’s kindergarten?”
“I like it.”
“Is your teacher nice?”
“Uh-huh,” Cruz said. Then his eyes lit up with an idea. “There’s a boy in my class who has two dads.”
Owen studied his eager little face. Cruz seemed to expect Owen to celebrate this news. “Two dads?”
“His stepdad came to pick him up from school yesterday. He’s just like a real dad.”
“Ah.”
Cruz had to spell it out for him. “You could be my stepdad.”
“I’d have to marry your mom to be your stepdad.”
His brow furrowed, as if he hadn’t figured on this complication. “Well, you like her, and she likes you. You can marry her.”
“I should probably ask her first.”
“All right.”
“I’ll work on that,” Owen promised. “But no matter what happens with your mom, you’ll always be my little man, okay?”
“Okay.”
He ruffled Cruz’s hair again and walked away, his chest tight. He had to pace himself, emotionally. The conversation with Jamie was sure to be gut-wrenching.
His nephew waited for him to approach, a rock clenched in his fist. He was acting out for attention, disrespecting headstones because he felt cheated by death. Owen understood and didn’t blame him.
“How’s it going?” Owen asked.
“Fine.”
“You look angry.”
Jamie let the rock fall from his fist, sullen. “He tried to call when he got out of prison. My mom wouldn’t let him talk to me.”
“She was protecting you.”
“From what?”
“Getting hurt by him.”
Jamie didn’t reply to this. His body language conveyed pure misery. He’d gotten hurt anyway.
“It’s okay to be sad,” Owen said.
“I’m not sad,” Jamie insisted. “He was a fucking loser.”
Owen stuck his hands in his pockets, contemplative. He couldn’t dispute the second statement, though he doubted the first. If Jamie felt nothing for Shane, he wouldn’t be so angry with his mother for keeping them apart.
“I’m never going to be like him.”
“I saw your soccer game yesterday,” Owen said, changing the subject.
“You did?”
He hadn’t stayed to say hello because he’d been too choked up. Overwhelmed by childhood memories, he’d walked away from the bleachers in anguish. “You’re a forward. Shane was, too.”
Jamie frowned at this information. “What about you?”
“I played defense, but not very well. I wasn’t aggressive enough. Shane was a little too aggressive. But you...you’re just right.”
The boy stared at the grave markers he’d been using for target practice, his blue eyes filling with tears. He strongly resembled Shane, whether he liked it or not. His looks, his speed, his physical presence on the field. “Will you come again next weekend?”
Owen said he would.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
HE CLEANED HIS APARTMENT in anticipation of Penny’s visit.
His injured hand made things difficult, but he wrestled with new sheets, washed the laundry and put away the dishes. Cooking a romantic meal was beyond his capabilities. Instead, he showered and pulled on casual clothes, his nerves on edge.
What would he say to her?
The doorbell rang before he was ready. He went to let her in, his heart tripping at the sight of her. She was wearing a short, flower-print dress with buttons down the front. Her hair was in a sweet ponytail. Even her sandals were sexy. She looked good enough to eat. He shut the door behind her, trying not to stare.
She’d never been here before. He’d called her cell with the address.
“So,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “This is your place.”
It wasn’t much, he knew. The space was cramped. He’d forgotten to put the mail away, and there was a pile of newspapers on the coffee table. He didn’t offer to give her a tour, because the kitchen was in full view of the living room, and showing her his bedroom seemed suggestive. “Do you want to go out to dinner?”
“No,” she said. “Unless you’re hungry.”
Not for food. He shook his head.
She sat down on the couch, bouncing to test its comfort. The half-buttoned bodice of her dress gaped open, revealing more of her breasts than usual. He moved his gaze to her legs, but that area wasn’t safe, either. The skirt rode high on her thighs.
He took a seat next to her, determined to keep his eyes on her face. Unfortunately, her mouth was right there. Tempting him.
She moistened her lips, nervous. “The service was nice.”
“It was a joke.” The funeral director had spoken of Shane in glowing terms, as if he’d been a swell guy.
“Your mother appreciated it.”
He couldn’t argue that.
“Did you invite any of the earthquake survivors?”
“No. They didn’t know him.”
“They know you.”
He shrugged, looking away. Funerals were awkward and unpleasant. His friends should thank him for the non-invite. It was a long drive to pay respects to a stranger.
Penny made a sympathetic noise and lifted her hand to his neck, massaging the tense muscle there. It was tense because she was touching him, but he didn’t ask her to stop. Her breasts plumped against his triceps, drawing his attention. Blood pooled to his groin as he realized what she was doing.
“Janelle said I should comfort you,” she murmured, slipping her other arm around his shoulder.
He turned his head toward her. “How?”
“Like this,” she said, brushing her lips over his.
He wanted to kiss her and touch her, to bury his tongue in her mouth and slide between her thighs. She might let him. If he didn’t have a flashback, they’d have a good time. Even if he did, they could start over, try again. The fear of failure didn’t paralyze him as much as it used to. He already knew he could make her come. It was deliciously easy.
She kissed his bruised jaw and the tattoo scar on his neck. “We don’t have to...you know. I can do the same thing that other girl did.”
“What?”
“I can touch myself,” she said in his ear.
He groaned at the thought.
Taking that as a yes, she fumbled with the buttons on her dress. It fell open, exposing a dark pink bra with a lacy border. He could see her nipples through the sheer fabric. His mouth watered to taste her.
“Wait,” he said, stilling her hands.
“What’s wrong?”
“I have to tell you something.”
“Am I being too slutty?”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “No. I love it.”
She closed the edges of her dress, uncertain.
“Everything you do turns me on, Penny. You’re incredibly sexy. I’d give a year of my life to watch you touch yourself.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Your father told me to stay away from you.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You aren’t his employee anymore.”
That was true. He’d been released from service. His savings and severance pay were enough to get by on for a while. Owen summarized his conversation with her father at the hospital, not mentioning the threat against his mother.
“Are they going to bring you up on charges?” she asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Forget my father,” she said, dismissive.
“I gave him my word.”
“But he broke his by withholding the recommendation letter.”
“I broke the contract by touching you.”
She
thought about that for a minute. “What we did is none of his business.”
Owen conceded her point, smiling.
She let go of her dress and wrapped her arms around his neck again. “If the letter means that much to you, we won’t tell him we’re together for another month.”
“You don’t mind sneaking around?”
“It’s better than waiting.”
He agreed, settling in to kiss her. Although he could have waited much longer—he’d already been waiting five years—he didn’t feel obligated to keep his promise to her father. In the past, Sandoval’s insults and intimidation tactics might have worked. His assurance that Penny could do better would have resonated deeper. But this experience had changed Owen fundamentally, just as going to prison had.
He wasn’t the same man he’d been when he came out.
Shane had been right about their childhood. Owen was more sensitive to their father’s violent outbursts. Christian Jackson had tried to beat all the kindness out of him, but he couldn’t. Owen hadn’t turned out like his brother, hardened and cold. The tender side of him, the one that his father considered cowardly, had stayed true.
Until he went to prison.
There, he’d transformed. Doing time had scrubbed every hint of softness from him. He couldn’t rely on Shane to protect him anymore, so he was forced to go on the offensive. After the attack in the shower, he’d built a wall of hate around himself. He’d become as tough and masculine as possible, because predators attacked vulnerability. They’d seen him as weak and called him pretty.
During his incarceration, he’d made some friends. He’d had good days. But overall it was a hell he’d endured by selling his soul to the Aryan Brotherhood. His only bright spot had been Penny. The moment he’d seen her after the earthquake, he’d been floored by her beauty. Even heavily pregnant, she’d been like a ray of light.
Her gentle friendship had chipped away at his protective shell. Her desire for him had boosted his self-confidence. Her unconditional acceptance had eased his shame and pain so much he hardly felt it anymore. And now he had a new shower memory, a damned good one, to help wash away the horror.
It wasn’t just Penny, either. His mother’s sobriety had held strong through the past week. She’d given him hope for the future. Jamie and Janelle had shown him that he could form meaningful relationships. He’d made a difference in their lives.
And Cruz. That little boy wanted Owen to be his dad. If Owen was worthy of this honor, he was worthy of anything.
Sandoval would never accept Owen into his family, and that was okay. The people Owen cared about knew he was a good guy, Janelle included. He valued an exotic dancer’s opinion more than a shady politician’s.
He wasn’t sure how to tell Penny any of these things. Maybe it was too soon to say he loved her. So he just showed her.
The first kiss was tentative, a brief meeting of lips. He liked the shape of her mouth, lush and full under his. He liked the warmth of her breasts against his chest, the tug of her hands in his hair. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he urged her closer. She slid her thigh across his lap, close to his swelling erection.
Their tongues met and tangled. Her mouth was deliciously sweet and receptive, inviting him to sink deeper. But he broke the contact, unsure of himself. A hint of anxiety wavered at the edge of his mind. Not unbearable, not insurmountable. The mild, pleasurable ache behind his fly seemed more pressing.
“We can just kiss for a while,” Penny murmured, her lips brushing the corner of his mouth. “I could lick you....”
His cock jumped to the conclusion that she meant licking him there, swirling her tongue around the swollen tip. The idea was so erotic, he felt light-headed. He’d probably explode before she even started.
He kissed her again, harder. Not holding back this time, he thrust his tongue into her mouth in a conscious parody of sex. She moaned and rubbed her breasts against him, not put off by his crudeness. She wanted this. She wanted him.
Although he intended to take her to his bedroom and attempt any sexual acts she would agree to, he ended the kiss in hopes of hearing more of her suggestions. “What else?”
Her eyes were half-lidded, smoky with arousal. “I liked what you did in the shower.”
He didn’t know which part she meant, but he’d do whatever she wanted. He’d taste every inch of her. Returning his mouth to hers, he smoothed his palm up her thigh. The bandage over his knuckles impeded him, but only a little. Her skin was like silk, her mouth wet and hungry, her body straining toward his.
She shifted in his lap, straddling him. Groaning, he slid his hands beneath her skirt, cupping her mostly bare bottom. The panties she was wearing felt very brief. He wanted to see her from behind, to study the fabric between her cheeks. She rubbed herself along his fly, driving him crazy with lust.
Jesus. He wasn’t going to last.
“Wait,” he said again, panting against her neck. When she wiggled her ass, he squeezed it once more and let go.
“Should we slow down?”
“Unh,” he replied, caveman-style. His cock was rock-hard, and she was sitting on it. Coherent speech was beyond him.
She unfastened the remaining buttons on her dress, letting it fall open. Owen stared at her dusky nipples and luscious breasts, her sleek stomach and curvy hips. Her dark pink panties matched her bra. The sheer fabric clung damply to the lips of her sex.
“Oh, God,” he said, closing his eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
He gritted his teeth. Moving slowly, so he didn’t explode, he lifted her off his lap. “I don’t want to go too fast.”
“Can you do it more than once?”
“Yeah.”
“How many times?”
He shrugged. “Five.”
“Five, really?”
That was his teenage record, but he felt massively horny right now. He might be able to break it.
“Two is the most for me,” she said.
“By yourself?”
She shook her head. “With you.”
“You’ve never gotten off twice in a row on your own?”
“No,” she said, smiling. “I didn’t know I could.”
The casual admission was incredibly hot. He swallowed hard, his balls throbbing with the need to climax.
“It doesn’t matter if you come fast,” she said, leaning back against the couch cushions and slipping her hand between her legs, finding the wet spot. “Let’s both do it now and get it out of the way.”
He was tempted. He’d fantasized about watching her strip naked and touch herself while he stroked his cock. But this wasn’t the shower stall. He’d finish ten minutes before her. That didn’t seem gentlemanly.
“No,” he said, adjusting his fly.
Her hand stilled. “No?”
“I want to be the one to touch you. I want to try to get inside you first.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.”
She seemed in favor of his idea. Cheeks flushed, she rose to her feet with him. He led her to his room, turning on the lamp by the bed. While he was there, he took the box of condoms from the drawer in the nightstand. He’d bought them for this occasion.
Climbing across his navy blue comforter on her hands and knees, she picked up the box. “Twelve,” she said, lying down on her back. Her dark hair spread across his pillow. “Is that enough?”
“I can go out for more.”
“I hope they’re not too small for you.”
The regular size fit him fine. “You’re flattering me.”
“Do you like it?”
“Yes,” he said, tossing the box aside and stretching out on top of her. She lifted her lips to his for a deep, penetrative kiss. They were getting good at kissing. He didn’t hesitate to plunge his tongue into her mouth, again and again.
When she slipped her hands underneath his shirt, he tensed for a fraction of a second. Then he focused on the feel of her fingertips gliding across his torso, exploring hi
s muscles as if she found them exciting. She tugged his shirt over his head and pushed him on to his back, trailing kisses across his chest.
Her lips paused at the Cruz tribute. “When are you going to get a tattoo of my name?”
He hadn’t planned on having more ink done, but the idea appealed to him. “Where do you want it?”
She smiled, as if she thought he was kidding. “I like this place,” she said, tracing the underside of his arm.
“By my armpit?”
“Your armpits are sexy.”
“If you say so.”
“Or here.” She splayed her hand over his rib cage. “In cursive, written sideways.”
Rib tattoos hurt like hell, but he’d do it for her.
She kissed his clenched stomach, which was already occupied. “This is nice,” she said, licking his hip bone. His dick throbbed for the same attention. She gave it to him, pressing her lips to the erection straining the front of his jeans.
“There, too?”
“No,” she said, laughing. “I like that the way it is.”
So did he. Threading his hand through her hair, he pulled her back up to his mouth, kissing her curved lips. “I love you, Penny,” he said, unable to keep it inside another moment. “I’ve loved you for so long.”
She stared at him in wonder. Her eyes filled with tears, and he held his breath, worried that he’d blown it. “I love you, too.”
He couldn’t believe his ears. “What?”
“I love you, too,” she said, sniffling. “I don’t know how long it’s been. I’ve wanted you for years, but I didn’t realize I was in love with you until Shane separated us. When he demanded that I tell him how I felt about you, I choked.”
“It’s okay,” he said, hugging her closer. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Maybe it would have turned out different....”
“No. Don’t blame yourself.” He kissed the tears from her eyes, amazed by the revelation. She was in love with him? Penny Sandoval, the most beautiful woman in the world, was in love with him, Owen Jackson?
Un-fucking-believable.
Instead of questioning it too much, he sought to make himself useful. Maybe if he knocked her socks off with his performance, she’d keep loving him. It couldn’t hurt.
He wanted to be on top, but his injured hand impeded him, so he brought her to the edge of the bed. Unbuttoning his fly, he knelt on the carpet before her and kissed her shoulder. Her bra strap fell down her slender arm.
Badlands Page 25
