Owen's Touch

by Lee Magner

  Mariana wasn’t opposed to the idea, but she didn’t reply. She was focused on where she was staying tonight. Tomorrow seemed a long time away.

  His gaze caressed her from head to toe and slowly back up again. And yet, he made no move toward her. Mariana wondered why.

  He could see the question in her eyes, the uncertainty as she wondered if she had misjudged their relationship. He ran a hand through his hair and expelled a long, frustrated breath.

  “There’s nothing I’d rather do right now,” he said huskily, “than lay you down on that bed and make love with you. But you’ve just remembered your life, Mariana. You’re still thinking of me as the man who saved you from the brink of death. Believe me, it’s hard not to take advantage of that,” he admitted, smiling faintly at that monumental understatement. “I don’t want you falling into my arms out of some sense of gratitude. Or while you’re still in a state of confusion.”

  Mariana walked toward him, stopping when their bodies just began to brush. She tilted back her head and looked into his eyes for a long, tender moment. Then she slid her arms around his neck and drew his head down as she raised herself up on her toes. Their lips met, and she kissed him.

  Owen closed his eyes and pulled her up against his chest. The world began to revolve slowly around them, and all he was aware of was the joy unflowering from their kiss.

  The softness of her lips, the sweet wine of her mouth, the tender yielding of her body made him forget everything he had sworn to remember. All he wanted was to make her entirely and irrevocably his own. His hands moved over her restlessly. He slanted his mouth against hers and deepened it.

  Moments later, when he lifted his head and gazed down at her, feeling stunned by the explosion of feelings between them, he realized she was smiling at him tenderly.

  Mariana laid her hand on his hard cheek and looked seriously into his eyes.

  “Did that feel like gratitude to you, Owen?” she asked him softly.

  His eyes darkened.

  “Surely, it didn’t feel like confusion, did it?” she gently challenged.

  His gaze fell to her soft lips.

  “This is your last chance to escape, Mariana,” he whispered.

  “I have no desire to escape,” she assured him, looping her arms around his neck and brushing her lips provocatively across his. “I know who I am. There’s no reason to worry about this. I know it sounds hopelessly romantic, but I think you and I were meant to be, Owen.”

  He lifted her into his arms and carried her back to his bedroom. When he laid her down on his bed, he looked down at her.

  “You’re sure?” he asked as the last vestiges of his conscience sank beneath the rising sea of his need for her.

  Her eyes were wide-open. Her lips trembled a little. She felt shy of him, lying on his bed, having to so nakedly admit the truth. And yet she wanted him so fiercely that all those worries dissolved beneath the radiant warmth of her love for him.

  She opened her arms to him and nodded, too moved to speak.

  Owen’s eyes darkened and be lowered his mouth to hers, sealing her unspoken answer with his own silent promise. He slid his arm under her hips and pulled down the covers beneath her with his free hand. He cradled her face in the darkness and brushed feathery kisses along the delicate line of her throat.

  “I don’t have anything with me, Mariana,” he whispered. “We’ve got to be careful.” He sighed as he felt her lips against the hot skin of his throat. “I haven’t needed to worry about protecting anyone,” he explained wryly. “There hasn’t been anyone to protect for a long time.” He covered her mouth with his and felt the hot rush of desire well up from deep within him. He groaned softly and stood up long enough to peel off his clothing.

  The bed sagged a little as he rejoined her. He didn’t waste time, now, though. Mariana felt the need in his hands as he quickly undid buttons and loosened her waistband. Tugging clothing down. Shoving it off her and covering her bare flesh immediately with his own warmth.

  In the darkness, they found each other. Sighs of pleasure mixed with the hurried rustle of bedcovers being pushed back and remaining scraps of clothing hastily being pulled off.

  His mouth trailed across her throat and followed the path his palm took, tracing the swell of her breasts. Softly he caressed the delicate skin, first with his hand and then with his lips. The caress continued down the length of her body. Across the pale skin of her waist, over the gentle curve of her hips and down the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

  His hands laid the kindling. His lips warmed the coals. And his tongue ignited the fires. Little fires. Everywhere. Mariana moaned and writhed and arched. She pulled him close, but he kept a little away, leaving room to touch all the secret places he hungered for. Tingling followed the tip of his tongue like inner fireworks. She pulled his head back, and he kissed her harder this time. He forced open her mouth, and her hands clenched in his hair as the dark red depths of passion slowly unfurled within her.

  She ran her hands over his muscled shoulders and back, feeling the coiling tension within him everywhere she touched. His hips were hard, his buttocks smooth beneath her hands. She felt him try to pull to one side, as if to remove his weight from her, but she wrapped her arms around him and caught his leg with hers.

  She felt the satiny hardness of his proud male flesh pulsing against her inner thigh. She knew why he had tried to pull away. She knew she should let him. Should help him. Should pull back herself.

  She opened her eyes and looked into his. He looked as tormented as she felt. She kissed his lips. Gently. Tenderly. Longingly. Each kiss clinging a little longer. Their bodies relaxing again. Moving slowly and lovingly against one another. His hard thighs sliding against the soft inner skin of hers. His arms around her shoulders. His hands splayed against her back. His fingertips marking ten points in her smooth back.

  She heard his breath coming more harshly and she ached to ease his pain.

  He felt her arch up and he instinctively lodged himself against the petaled flesh that yearned for him.

  “Mariana,” he whispered, gritting his teeth and trying to find the will to pull back.

  “I love you, Owen,” she whispered, unable to hold the words back, as her heart overflowed. At the same time, her body spoke the same words silently, opening to him, yielding to him, embracing him completely.

  Owen groaned and kissed her deeply. She was fire and light in what had become a lonely, disillusioned life. He wanted to make her his own. He hadn’t realized how desperately he had wanted her until the last of his iron control melted in the heat of their embrace.

  He caught her hips with his hands and surged into her warmth.

  And suddenly the light of a hundred galaxies burst into the darkened mom.

  His whole body stiffened and shuddered. His back arched, and he felt her cry out in joy.

  The starlit waves of exquisite happiness pulsed over them. Again and again.

  Owen cradled her in his arms and rolled over, keeping them intimately joined. Silently, he rocked her in his arms.

  Don’t ever let me go, Mariana thought Her face was pressed against his neck. She could feel the damp sheen of sweat on both their bodies. She closed her eyes and absorbed it all.

  “I may forget who I am again some day,” she whispered dazedly. “But I will always recognize you.”

  He laughed. It was a deep, rumbling, masculine sound of pleasure arising from deep within his chest.

  “If this made a lasting impression,” he teased her in a low, husky voice, “maybe we can immortalize it.”

  She felt him harden within her, felt her own body tingle in response and giggled in astonishment as he drew her head down for another deep, soul-wrenching kiss.

  The second time should have been slower, more leisurely. But it was just as hot and firecracker fast as the first time had been. The second time not only matched the hot new flames, but its culmination was even more spectacular than the first.

  As the las
t ripple of pleasure finally subsided, Owen stared at the ceiling of his room and folded his arms around Mariana’s damp body, still draped on top of him. Complete. That’s how he felt, he realized. It was disconcerting. Maybe she was made of his rib, he thought whimsically. Maybe that’s why reuniting their bodies felt like two pieces of a whole being put back together. And why there was a certain loneliness as the intense, climactic pleasure faded, leaving them two separate people again.

  He gently caressed her hair. Forget me not, he thought wryly. What hell that would be, he mused. For Mariana not to recognize him.

  “Are you okay?” he whispered drowsily, when he knew he was about to fall asleep.

  She smiled against his shoulder.

  “I am much better than okay,” she mumbled against his muscled chest.

  “Good,” he murmured, a satisfied male smile slowly spreading across his face. “That’s very good....”

  Then sleep gently stole them both away.

  Chapter 15

  Mariana snuggled up against the warmth. Unfortunately, it had gone. She opened her eyes and blinked sleepily at the empty spot in the bed next to her.

  “Good morning.”

  Mariana looked at the doorway, where the voice had come from. Owen was standing there, leaning against the frame, barefoot and tousle haired. And looking rather moody, she thought.

  She sat up, shyly clutching the bedcovers across her breasts.

  “I don’t know what to say, Mariana,” he said solemnly. “I’ve never done that before.”

  She looked at him in surprise. Her certainly had behaved as if he’d known what he was doing, she thought, feeling a little breathless at the memory. But he looked really remorseful, she realized. He couldn’t be talking about making love, she decided.

  He came over and sat down next to her, brushing a light tangle of red hair away from her eyes.

  “If there are any consequences from last night, I think we should face them together.”

  Mariana nodded but was a little at a loss to know what to say. He was talking about not taking precautions, she realized. It wasn’t as if they’d actually made plans to share their lives. She had thought of it, of course. But she knew they hadn’t discussed it.

  “There’s no excuse for what I did,” he said, frowning and mystified that it could have happened. “Hell, I’m thirty-six years old, Mariana. More than old enough to know better.”

  “Hey, it’s okay,” she assured him. “I’m old enough, too,” she said with a shaky laugh. “You were being responsible and I...held you back,” she reminded, a light flush brushing across her cheeks.

  Owen looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.

  “You couldn’t hold me back, Mariana,” he said dryly. “It wasn’t a wrestling match. And you didn’t drag me against my will.”

  Mariana got up on her knees, not knowing whether she wanted to hug him for feeling worried or box his ears for insisting on shouldering all the responsibility himself.

  “Next time we’ll be better prepared,” she said blithely. “We’ll probably have nothing to worry about. If not...we’ll talk about it when the time comes.”

  “Would you consider marrying me?” he asked bluntly.

  Mariana sat back down. She felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. At least he no longer was worried about her already having a husband, she thought, wondering how her life had gotten this crazy.

  “An unplanned pregnancy isn’t a very good reason to marry,” she argued stubbornly. She’d always hoped her husband would be marrying her for herself. Somehow, that seemed a little petty to blurt out right now.

  “A large percentage of marriages start off for just that reason,” he said dryly. “They always have.

  Mariana turned away. It had never occurred to her that Owen might feel obligated to marry her. She wanted to kick herself for not foreseeing it. But she’d been so blinded by her love for him, she hadn’t thought that far. She licked her lips and searched carefully for a reply. Slowly, she turned to gaze at him.

  “It isn’t a reason that I would use for something as important as marriage.” She saw his slight frown, but wasn’t sure what he was thinking. “I have a comfortable life. I can support myself, unlike many women who’ve found themselves facing an unexpected bundle of joy. I’d want you to know our child, if we had one,” she assured him, clutching the covers with one hand so she could cover his hand with hers. “I think you’d be a wonderful father, Owen.” And a wonderful husband, she added silently, too shy to say it.

  Owen was staring at her as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. He rose to his feet and paced back and forth. He looked at her and hesitated, as if about to ask her something else. But he decided against it.

  “Do you have to leave for court soon?” she asked, not wanting to be the cause of a contempt of court charge.

  “Yeah,” he sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. “We’ll have to talk about this some more later.”

  He remembered her words of love, her passionate response and the incredible joy he’d found in her arms last night. Why the hell was she balking at the idea of marriage? he wondered. He’d thought the possibility of pregnancy was worth their seriously talking about the future. And instead, she was telling him she could handle it. He didn’t have to worry. Worry! All he’d done was worry about her since the day he hauled her out of that car. Well, maybe that wasn’t all he’d done. Hell, he didn’t have time to untangle this latest knot in their unconventional relationship, he thought, irritated that Portia’s nephew was proving to be such a roadblock in his love life.

  Owen strode back to the bed, hauled Mariana up into his arms and kissed her until her knees began to buckle and his groin was throbbing against his fly. He lifted his mouth just enough to murmur against her lips, “There are occasional compensations to being married, Mariana. People don’t do it just for the benefit of the kids.”

  He released her, jutted his jaw out in an unconscious gesture of defiance, turned on his heel and left.

  Mariana stood there, naked and trembling, staring at him as he stalked out of the room like a spurned suitor. Male pride was such a touchy thing, she thought in dismay.

  “‘People don’t just marry for the kids,’” she echoed to the empty doorway. “That’s my point exactly.” But he was too far away to hear her shaky retort.

  Mariana snatched up her clothes and hurried back to her own bedroom to shower and dress. She didn’t recall her life being so complicated before. She was quite sure that she would have remembered that. Nothing was wrong with her memory anymore.

  Now the problem was her heart.

  Averson Hemphill’s red-haired wife warmly welcomed Mariana when Owen dropped her off. She smiled reassuringly at Owen, who was standing in the foyer and regarding Mariana as if he hadn’t quite concluded an important discussion with her.

  “You’d better get going, Mr. Blackhart, if you’re going to make it to the courthouse on time,” Lyn Hemphill warned him, smiling knowingly. “It’s not a good idea to keep a judge waiting, as I’m sure you know. But showing up tardy to Judge Hammer’s court is—” she rolled her eyes delicately “—legal suicide.” Seeing the worry and frustration deepen in his eyes, she patted him on the arm and added kindly, “Averson explained your situation with Mariana.” Her genteel smile grew warmer as his face darkened slightly in embarrassment. “You aren’t used to having a woman living with you, are you?” she asked softly.

  “No,” he admitted, his brows wrinkling with annoyance. Mariana wasn’t exactly just “a woman living with him.”

  “I’ll take good care of her. Don’t you worry,” she soothed. “So just hurry on along to court, and we’ll see you late this afternoon.”

  Lyn Hemphill’s attention was captured by the drumroll clatter of young footsteps descending the nearby stairs.

  Two children stampeded down the curling staircase and raced past their mother en route to the dining room, whooping at the top of their lungs.


  “No running in the house! And you’ll be late for school if you don’t get in the car in five minutes!” she called out to them. She sent Owen an apologetic look. “Excuse me...” She hurried off to corral her children and herd them toward the door connecting her kitchen pantry with the attached garage and its waiting car.

  Owen turned back to Mariana, going over all the things she needed to be prepared for during the day. He knew they’d reviewed the possibilities until they were both becoming numb from the repetition. Still, an ingrained checklist was sometimes the difference between success or failure in emergencies. So, at the risk of infuriating her, he repeated one thing that was uppermost on his mind, one last time.

  “If the police call you with information, or if Roualt or anyone suspicious should show up here, get word to Hemphill at the courthouse,” Owen told Mariana. That way, word would get back to him. Quickly.

  “I will,” Mariana agreed, patiently ignoring the fact she’d already agreed to this several times in the past hour. She smiled at him optimistically. “Good luck with your case, Owen. I hope you win. And I hope the judge brings this to a close today.”

  Owen smiled slightly. “Thanks. Miracles happen,” he conceded with a philosophical shrug. “But I doubt that a case like this can be disposed of in the space of a single afternoon in court.”

  Owen was opening the door to leave, but turned back for one last time. He had been uneasy about leaving her like this, with him being gone for most of the day and not easily within her reach if she needed him. The expression on Louie Roualt’s face in the honeymoon photo haunted him, as did Mariana’s description of his psychopathic behavior. Realizing he wouldn’t be able to protect her personally for virtually the rest of the day was eating away at him.

  Mariana had followed him to the door and stood a few feet away, watching him wistfully.

  “I wish I could go with you...for moral support,” she said, trying to smile.

  He reached out and took her hand, holding it gently but firmly, in his.

  “And I wish I could stay with you...for the same reason.”