He's hurting.
Guilt. Despite being angry I'm not Owen's and knowing I don’t owe him anything, it still tears away at my insides, making me feel like shit.
Silently, I retrieve a first aid kit from the bottom of Owen's drawer and get to work cleaning his hand. He's so drunk—or that dejected—when I put some disinfectant on his cut, he doesn't even flinch.
"This cut is really deep," I say, paying special attention to it. He doesn't say anything—not until I'm wrapping a bandage around his hand.
"You promised me."
My hand stops midair as that same heart-crushing feeling materializes. I don't know what to say. What can I say? Owen's right. I promised to stay away from his son and I've broken that promise.
"He offers me something you can't."
A snarl forms at one corner of his mouth. "He offers you nothing but pain and suffering. I thought you trusted me enough, Savannah…but you won't listen."
"Then tell me," I urge, imploring him with my eyes. "Tell me."
Owen closes his eyes, shaking his head. "I can't. I fucking can't."
This would normally anger me, but Owen looks completely and utterly broken. Shattered beyond repair.
I don't say anything while I finish with his bandage. I place the last piece of tape on his hand. "There. All fixed." Owen doesn't move his hand from my lap. Instead, he sits there staring at it.
"Remember three months ago when the shooting happened and I needed to leave you, but you didn't want to let me?" He looks up, so I nod. "I asked you to trust me."
"That's right," I answer, the memory of it making an unwelcome appearance.
"I'm asking you to trust me again." He sighs, crestfallen as he pulls himself closer to me until I'm snuggled between his legs. "I don't deserve it, but I'm asking you."
Running a hand through his hair, I smile. "Okay. I will."
His eyes shut tightly as he pulls himself into my stomach, laying his head there as he holds me. "I can't get the image of you and him out of my head. I want it to stop, Savannah. Make it stop."
I thought my heart couldn't break much more, but it does. The pain almost cripples me until I no longer feel I can stand it.
"I'm so sorry," I sob. How can I possibly make this okay? Where do I even begin to try? Tonight, I had been so willing to contemplate leaving Owen behind and starting over, but I know now doing that will break Owen's heart. He may have broken mine, but I can deal with that. I can learn to live with it, but I refuse to be the one to break his.
His head lifts, and he cups my face with his hand. "No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't give you all the things I know you want. I'm sorry for making you feel like we have to hide. I'm sorry for not being the man you so desperately want. I'm so…fucking…sorry."
How much more can my heart fucking take?
As sobs wrack my body, Owen pulls me off the desk and takes me into his arms. He allows me to grieve…to mourn the loss of us. I don't know where we go from here, but I sure as shit know this has to be the end.
At least…for now.
My head thinks back on Owen's planner and the possible outcome of it. Owen won't tell me, so I have no choice but to figure this out on my own.
Owen may have given up on us, but I'm going to make damn sure he doesn't give up on himself.
Borrowed
LeAnn Rimes
3 months earlier
A few days have gone by since the shooting and I've hardly slept. Nightmares seem to be the order of the evenings, taunting me as I try to rest. The moment I close my eyes, that man with his gun held high flashes behind my lids. The screaming echoes surrounding me are the worst to bear, offering no solace in my times of solitude.
The good news is Martin Flores is on the way to recovery. He had to have surgery on his shoulder as the bullet shattered some of his bone into fragments. The bad news is two people died—one a recently retired veteran. His funeral will be held next week with full military honors, a twenty-one-gun salute—the works. He will be buried at Arlington with his comrades. Owen and I have been invited, so we're currently trying to juggle work so we can attend. Considering Owen is now a hero, the family of the deceased veteran wants to meet the man who saved a lot of people's lives. Owen, feeling guilty knowing he couldn’t save him has wanted to cancel the trip on several occasions, but I was able to talk him out of it every time.
It's Sunday today, and the house is silent. Owen is no doubt getting one of his cars ready for his usual drive, while Mom goes out on one of her jaunts. She's taken to staying in hotel rooms. Owen is aware because she blatantly uses his credit card. She obviously doesn't care. A part of me wonders if she does it deliberately to make him jealous. I have yet to witness any ounce of jealousy as far as my mother is concerned. Both my heart and my body rejoice at the thought.
Clothed in nothing but a simple, loose summer dress, I make my way down to the kitchen to get coffee when I come across my mother sitting at the island, her coffee on the counter and a cigarette lit as she reads today's newspaper. Frank is busying himself making sangria no doubt for my mom to consume after she's had a dick or two up her ancient, witch-like vagina.
"Good morning," I utter, with about as much enthusiasm as a child made to eat their vegetables.
Frank smiles brightly in my direction while my mother lowers her paper, scrutinizing me straight away. I ignore her, pouring myself a cup of coffee and taking a sip.
"Your face looks as long as a porn star’s dick,” she blurts from behind her paper. “What's with you now? Did you go to bed five minutes past your bedtime last night?"
I almost spit my coffee at the mention of the porn star’s dick.
Almost.
"I did witness a shooting, Mom, or have we forgotten already?"
Placing her paper down, she scoffs at me. "Jesus, Savannah, it happened days ago. Anyone would have thought someone died!"
Banging my cup on the table, the coffee splashes everywhere. "Someone did fucking die. How heartless can you be?"
A slight sneer at the corner of her mouth is visible before she speaks. "It was no one you know. Snap yourself out of it, for God's sake. Oh, and don't swear at your mother. You're not too young for a slap."
Jesus, I can't stand the woman. As much as I want to bite back, I keep my cool, sucking in a deep breath. When I don't react, she snaps her paper, continuing to read. I make good on cleaning up the mess I made, despite Frank silently trying to stop me. I mouth to him that I made the mess, playfully shooing him out of the way. He smiles, shaking his head, and I beam back.
Frank continues with the sangria, so I quickly refill my cup and make my way toward the garage. With my mom filling me with anger, I find myself wanting a release.
I stand at the garage doorway, coffee in hand, leaning against the frame as I watch him. He hasn't noticed me yet, too intent on the task at hand. Shirtless and smeared with oil, he flexes his arm muscle, twisting the wrench. My loins come to life, causing a deep-seated ache between my legs. My pussy burns, and my nipples harden. This is certainly foreplay enough for me. I'm already wet as hell and he hasn't even touched me.
He wipes his sweaty brow, and a strand of hair sticks to his forehead. He steps back, admiring his work, his pecks flexing, causing another jolt of desire to shoot through me. I'm so intent watching him, I fail to register the cup loosening in my grip until it's too late.
Coffee spills on my chest, and I very nearly drop it. Heat singes me, but instantly cools.
"Shit!" I shout, trying to wipe the coffee seeping into my dress. Why do people instinctively do that?
"Are you okay?" Owen asks, rushing to look me over.
"I'm fine," I reply, laughing in embarrassment. “I, err…I guess I wasn't paying attention to the coffee in my hand."
Owen grins smugly, his green eyes dancing with mischief. "Too busy looking at something else, huh?" he asks, taking the coffee cup from me and setting it down on one of the workstations.
"My, my, we do have a big head,
don't we?"
"Ah, you know it's true," he replies, giving me a sexy wink.
Damn him!
His eyes fall to my chest, widening. "Fucking hell, Savannah, are you trying to kill me? You're not wearing a bra under that dress."
I look down, smirking when I see how clear and erect my nipples are beneath the material. "Oh…guess I’m not."
"Cover yourself up. I can't look at you without wanting to touch you, and you know full well I can't do that without wanting to fuck you."
Still smug, I seductively sway my hips toward him, placing a finger on his sweaty chest. "Make me," I goad, my eyes traveling the length of his chest until I meet his fiery green eyes.
Owen sucks in a breath. "Your mother's here," he growls out.
"I really don't give a shit."
"Savannah," he warns.
"Owen," I sing back. Deliberately and slowly, I trail my finger down his chest, toward his stomach, then lower toward his rock-hard length. Fire ignites inside me when I take in his reaction. An explosion almost happens when he closes his eyes in ecstasy.
"Fuck, I love it when you touch me.”
I close the distance, until my breasts are heaving against his expanding chest. I keep my hand over his cock, rubbing his length through his sexy blue Adidas shorts.
Surprising him, I pull my hand away, stepping back. "I suppose I should go and get dressed."
I turn to walk away when a hand grips my arm, pulling me back to face him. "You fucking bitch," he growls beneath a cocky smile. "You think you can tease me like that and get away with it?"
"I wonder what you could possibly do to punish me."
He yanks me toward him until I bang into his very solid chest. I let out a small squeal, excitement bubbling inside me. "I'm going to show you right now, cock tease."
Before I can even contemplate a sassy comeback, I'm being launched toward his Ford pickup truck and practically swung around the back. He drops the back end of it, pushing me forward until my torso is almost lying flat against it.
"Condom," I shout, before he can take this further.
"Already on it. I carry one around with me everywhere since you crawled yourself tightly under my skin." The ripping of the wrapper makes my excitement grow. Within seconds, he's inside me, pushing himself right to the hilt. Closing my eyes, I cry out my euphoria, my pussy rejoicing at his throbbing cock.
"Fuck, Savannah! I seriously can't get enough of you."
With the hood of the Ford pickup shielding us, Owen continues to push his way inside me, fucking me like the animal he is. I keep my eyes closed, relishing the feel of his cock. Desire spikes further when his grunts of pleasure resonate above me.
"Look what you fucking made me do!" he roars, slamming into me until I cry out. "You're nothing but a fucking temptress, Savannah. Fucking temptress!"
Pleasurable moans escape me as his pace quickens. He's close, and I'm not too far behind him.
"Oh God!" I scream, unable to hide how fucking good this feels.
His pace quickens even further, digging his fingers into my hips as he thrusts over and over again. Colors dance between my eyes, and my head dizzies with the orgasm about to rip its way through me.
"Fucking bitch!" he seethes on a growl, and I detonate all around him. It's not long after that he follows, emptying his release.
My legs wobble, and our heavy breaths are the only sound as we calm down from our climaxes. I close my eyes on a smile, but soon snap them back open when a smack on my ass and Owen pulling out breaks me from my euphoria.
"Get yourself cleaned up before your mother catches us."
Way to spoil the moment, Owen.
I straighten my dress, turning on a pout. He spots me and laughs. "Don't look at me like that. This is your fucking doing. If you didn't have come fuck me eyes, a wet dress, and such a tight fucking pussy, none of this would have happened."
"You're so romantic," I snap back. I go to walk away, but he grabs me, kissing me until I’m robbed of breath.
"I want nothing more than to lay you on a bed of rose petals, drink champagne off your body until you squirm under my touch, and make love to you for hours until the sun comes up, but for now, my truck is about as romantic as you're going to get from me."
As he playfully flicks my nose, his eyes swim with an emotion I’ve never seen before: regret.
With all the sass drained from my body at his confession, I nod and pull away, but not before Owen lays a gentle kiss on the back of my hand.
Giddy with joy, I make my way back inside the house and head for the stairs, but before I reach the first step, my mom comes across me, scrunching up her nose in disgust.
"What the fuck have you been up to?"
I look down, noticing the coffee stain has thankfully dried, but my chest and arms are covered in grease.
"Oh, this," I say, glancing down at both arms. "I was helping Owen with his pickup. He was having trouble reaching certain areas and asked me to help."
"You look and smell awful."
I smile brightly. "Gee, thanks, Mom. I'm going to take a shower."
"Before you go," she snaps, halting me in my tracks. "Owen is Dad or Father to you. Considering all he's done for you over the months, he deserves that much respect."
She's trying to get a rise out of me, but all it makes me do is laugh inside. "Don't worry, I do respect Dad," I reply. "I appreciate Dad very much."
And as I'm walking up the stairs, chuckling to myself, I think…
Yes, I definitely respect Daddy as he caresses my ass, lifts my skirt, and fucks me like a wild animal from behind.
I respect him a lot.
Secrets and Lies
Ruelle
Present
I can't come in today. I don't feel very well.
I hit SEND and wait for Owen's response, but it never comes. A few seconds later, my door opens and in flies Owen, his brow creased with concern. He approaches my bed, sitting on the edge as I lie on my side facing him.
He touches my forehead, the feel of him making my eyes close. "You don't have a fever. Do you want me to call Doctor Sanders?"
I smile at his fussing. "No, it's okay. I think I may have eaten something bad. I feel really nauseous."
Owen's eyes widen slightly. "Are you pregnant?"
I almost snort at the thought. "Yeah, like we need that complication on top of everything else."
"That's not answering the question."
"No, I'm not pregnant. Are you happy now?"
Owen's shoulders slouch slightly, his face downcast. "No, not really."
Confusion fills me. I'm about to question what he means when he leans over and kisses my forehead. "Get some rest, and promise you'll lock the door behind me when I'm gone?" Still feeling bewildered, all I do is nod. "Thank you," he replies, before getting up and walking out my door.
Frustration eats at my insides. I wish I knew what was going on in his head, but he doesn't trust me enough to let me in. This should anger me, but what I feel is more than that. I just feel so…sad.
Getting up, I wipe a lone tear and proceed to do as instructed. Although it feels crazy to do it, I lock the door, then make my way to the shower to get ready to leave the house. As I'm applying my makeup, I stop for a moment and call Frank.
"Yes, Ms. Savannah?"
I can't help the smile that rises on my lips. No matter how many times I tell both Brandon and Frank to call me Savannah, they still can't help inputting that “Ms.” beforehand. It's actually gotten to a stage where I like it. It makes me feel like a pop star or something.
"Can you please call me a cab?"
"Of course. Where is it you want to go?"
"To Patricia's, but Frank…please don't tell anyone where I'm going."
"Of course," he answers, hanging up.
Pain etches my chest as I continue getting ready. I glance toward the bed, knowing there's answers there, while praying it's the answers Patricia and I have been searching for. There has to be some
thing we're missing. We've definitely come to a conclusion that Owen hasn't married my mother of his own free will.
"How the fuck did she pull this off?" I ask nobody. I let out a small laugh. "Now I'm going crazy."
Sometime later, my cell rings, and I pick it up. Frank’s name flashes on the screen. "Your cab has arrived, Ms. Savannah."
"Thank you," I reply, hitting END and springing into action. I drag out the contents of the planner and stuff it into my purse before unlocking my door. I'm about to leave when her voice grates from behind me.
"Why the fuck aren't you at work?"
I spin around, and my eyes are immediately assaulted by my mom's bright yellow and black Gucci dress. It makes her look like a Toucan.
"I'm not feeling well, so I'm going to the doctor."
She screws up her nose. "Are you infectious?"
I'm about to answer no, but then think better of it. "Possibly."
She makes a shooing motion with her hands. "Then get the fuck out of here. I don't want to catch anything from you."
She spins on her heels, storming off and mumbling something about getting rid of me. I roll my eyes, allowing her vicious comments to glide away like the tide.
Her words can't hurt me.
Her words can't hurt me.
I repeat it over and over again like a mantra. I've gotten used to it over the months, and it's working quite well. That and fucking her husband every chance I get. Nothing beats revenge like the feel of him pressed against me.
I quickly run for the gate, grateful I haven't run into Ethan yet. After being in the barn with him last night, I was contemplating his offer. But now, after what happened between Owen and me, I'm going to have to turn him down.
For Owen's sake.
I'm about ten minutes into the journey when I get a message from Ethan.
Ethan: Everything okay? Your mom says you've gone to the doctor?
Me: Yes, I'm fine. Just a little sick. I will be home this evening. We will need to talk.
Ethan: I can't see you, but I'm gathering from the tone of your message it's not the news I'm hoping for.
Forbidden Desires Page 20
