Authors: Claire Kent
Seven (10 page)
He choked on a laugh.
Then she smiled fondly. “It was an
amazing victory. No one would ever believe me if I told them.”
He seemed to appreciate her praise because
his eyes grew soft. His voice, however, was typically smug as he added, “One
might almost say it was worthy of a sex god.”
“While I certainly appreciate his
occasional appearance, I’ve never really wanted the sex god.” She put her hand
on his pounding heart and spoke words that were as close to the truth as she
was willing to voice right now.
Said, “All I’ve ever wanted was the
man.”
They lay in limp,
replete satisfaction for a while. But eventually Amy began to feel too icky, so
she got up and limped to the bathroom. She turned on the shower and stepped
under the hot spray.
The water felt incredible,
invigorating, and deliciously indulgent.
She’d rinsed off and started soaping
up when the curtain opened and Owen appeared. He gave her a nonchalant quirk of
his lips and stepped under the shower with her.
“Don’t hog all the water,” she
grumbled, gently pushing him away from where he’d been blocking some of the spray.
He chuckled and didn’t resist her
relocation of his body. Just grabbed the soap and started lathering up himself.
She was checking out the red marks on
her hips and thighs, where she knew she’d have bruises in the morning, when
Owen noticed her scrutiny.
“Did I hurt you?” he demanded, moving
her hands away so he could look too.
“Don’t get excited. Just a few
bruises.”
He frowned deeply. “You should have
told me—”
“Don’t be stupid, Owen. You didn’t
hurt me. We just made love. A lot. There tends to be evidence on one’s body.”
She blushed a little—to her annoyance—at saying “made love” rather than “have
sex,” which was the way they normally referred to their carnal activities.
But she didn’t regret saying it.
It was true. She knew it now.
His wet face still looked concerned
as he turned her around and scrutinized every scratch, bruise, and mark on her
body.
“I’ve got fair skin,” she said
eventually, although she was touched by his obvious protectiveness. “Things
show up more.”
“I suppose,” he agreed, his face
relaxing. Then a familiar heat flickered in his eyes.
“Don’t say it. I can see what you’re
thinking. Some sort of caveman impulse it starting to emerge at seeing how
you’ve marked me.”
He gave her a teasing growl and
pulled her into a kiss.
She kissed him back leisurely, too
worn out to be passionate or sexy. And then she sighed in pleasure as Owen
pulled away, turned her around so that her back was to him, and started to give
her a backrub.
She let him massage her neck and
shoulders, closing her eyes and moaning softly as her sore muscles loosened up.
Then she relaxed even more as he began to shampoo her hair, his strong fingers
against her scalp both sensual and soothing.
When he’d rinsed the shampoo from her
hair, Amy turned around, prepared to give him the same treatment. But he didn’t
let her. Without a word, he just pulled her into an embrace.
They hugged for a long time, their
wet skin slipping against each other’s as the water pounded down on them.
Finally, Amy looked up at Owen’s
familiar face. “Thanks,” she whispered.
“For what?”
She just smiled and reached up to
press a kiss on his chin.
Out of habit more than anything else,
she glanced down toward his groin. He usually got hard when they showered
together, although—had she thought about it—Amy would have known better to
expect any physical response at the moment.
“Uh,” Owen began dryly, following her
gaze to his lack of erection. “I hope you weren’t getting your hopes up.”
Amy laughed and slid one of her hands
down to fondle his soft cock. “Nope. I’d already told you—remember?—there’s no
way we’re having sex again this weekend.”
“Good. Because, no matter how nicely
you touch it, it’s not going to be doing anything for a while.”
Repressing her giggles, Amy let him
slip out of her fingers.
She wanted to hug Owen again. Wanted
to squeeze him with all her might. Never wanted to let him go.
“I’m getting out,” she said at last,
her voice changing back to normal. “Did you want to stay in here any longer?”
Owen shook his head and turned off
the water. “No. I’m done.”
Stepping out and reaching for a
thick, soft towel, Amy started to dry herself off. “I’m not sure how long I can
stand up. I’m going to bed, and I’m not planning to move for a really long time.”
“Sounds like a good idea to me. We’ve
got leftover Thai food from last night. We can have that later.”
And that was what did it. His dry,
prosaic comment about dinner.
Amy felt a wave of irresistible
emotion rise up in her chest—made up of tenderness, familiarity, need, and
absolute trust—and there was no way she could hold it back anymore.
She knew how she felt. Knew how he
felt.
And it was stupid that both of them
were still hesitant about saying it.
So she stopped towel-drying her hair
and let the damp towel fall to the floor. Stood in the middle of the bathroom
naked and told Owen, “I love you.”
Owen had been drying his legs, but he
froze at her words. Naked, bent-over, and staring at her in astonishment, he
looked as undignified as she’d ever seen him.
She hid a smile, not even nervous now
that she’d finally said the words. “Did you know that?”
Owen’s mouth fell open, and he
finally managed to straighten up. It took him a moment, but he recovered enough
to say in a semblance of his characteristic, ironic voice. “I was hoping maybe
you did.”
He was trying to act cool, but she
could see both hot excitement and shattering relief, pulsing just beneath the
surface of his composed face.
Amy reached for her bathrobe and
pulled it on over her shoulders. She was feeling almost giddy, but she tried to
hold herself back from dancing a jig of pure exhilaration. “Well, I do.” She
held her breath to hear his response.
He didn’t answer immediately. He just
kept staring at her with a blaze of joy in his blue eyes.
Finally, Amy frowned at him in
annoyance. She wasn’t afraid of his not returning her feelings, but she
certainly didn’t want to have her declaration left hanging in the air. “Well?”
she demanded.
Finally, he broke into warm chuckles.
“I love you too.”
Her whole body relaxed into a near
slump at hearing the words at last. “I don’t know what we’re going to do when
you go back to London, but maybe we can work something out.”
His smiled deepened. “I’m going to
talk to my supervisor on Monday. Maybe I don’t have to go back.”
She gasped. “What?”
He arched his eyebrows. “They like
me, you know. I think they might be able to find a longer-term position here
for me.”
“You’d stay here?” Her voice broke on
the last word.
“Of course.” He was frowning at her
now, looking a little confused. “Didn’t we just admit we love each other? I’d
really rather not live on separate continents.”
“But I thought…” She trailed off, so
blown away she could barely speak. “Thank you.”
He gave a half shrug. “I love you
a
lot
. I thought you understood that.”
“I do. I mean… Me too.” She felt like
she might cry again. Or maybe collapse to the floor. “Why didn’t you say so
before?”
His smile was soft and fond now. “I
was waiting for you.”
She straightened up suddenly with a
sharp inhale. “What? What do you mean?”
“I was waiting for you. I was trying
to give you what you wanted and not pressure you into more. Until you were
ready.”
“But…” Her mind whirled, trying to
understand the last months of their relationship through this piece of
information. “For how long?”
“For a while.” He stepped over and
pulled her bathrobe closed more tightly. “You were a lot slower than I was.”
She sucked in another gasp. “Are you
trying to imply that you beat me somehow because you figured out you loved me
first?”
He laughed and pulled her into a
tight hug. “Of course, I beat you, love.”
She was nearly strangling on a
bizarre mingling of outrage and delight. She finally gave up and dissolved into
half-laughter and half-tears.
When she raised her head, she was so
happy and so exhausted she could barely support herself. “Do you think we can
we go to bed now?”
“Sounds good to me.”
They returned to the bedroom and
crawled into bed together. There, they shared a silly, fatuous embrace under
the covers.
Amy really was exhausted after a
long, draining, and emotional afternoon. Which was the only excuse for what
happened next.
Owen had just pulled her backward
into his arms so that he was spooning her from behind. His body felt warm and
strong and solid, and the stressful uncertainty about their relationship was
finally, blissfully ended.
She felt so full and happy that her
eyes began to burn, and she choked on a few happy sobs.
“You aren’t crying, are you?” Owen
held her tighter, even though his voice was both wry and aggrieved.
“Nope,” she lied.
“Good. Because, after the afternoon
I’ve just had, that would be more than I could handle.”
“No crying here,” she snuffled. “I’m
just happy and ready for a nap.”
“Me too.”
Amy smiled.
“On both fronts,” he added, gently
nuzzling her ear.
She choked up again—since he was
letting her know, in his own Owen-like way, that he was as happy as she was.
Since he was clearly in an affection
mood, Amy asked, “So what’s your fantasy?”
Owen cleared his throat.
“Well?” she demanded, curiosity buzzing
through her chest. “You aren’t going to tell me?”
He didn’t answer immediately. In
fact, Amy was starting to resign herself to the fact that he wasn’t going to
spill his secret when he finally admitted, “To tell you the truth, it just
happened.”
Amy was really tired, and that might
explain her slowness. “Oh. You mean you’d had a fantasy about making me come
seven times.”
His tone sounded like he was rolling
his eyes as he spoke. “Not that.”
Amy thought for a moment. Realized
what had just happened, how their relationship—how everything—had just changed.
“Oh.”
Evidently, his deepest fantasy had
been the same one that she’d had.
She felt such a thrill at the
knowledge that she had to hug something. Since he was spooning her, the only
part of him she could reach were his forearms, so she grabbed them and squeezed
them to her chest.
But all she said was, “That’s pretty
sappy. But at least it saves me the trouble of fulfilling some weird, creepy
sexual fantasy.”
“Oh, no. I’m sure I’ll think of
something else. I won fair and square, after all.”
Amy laughed softly and hugged his
forearms to her chest again. She was actually looking forward to whatever
fantasy Owen managed to conjure up.
They were silent for a long time,
until Amy had a random thought.
She giggled out of the blue at the
thought and turned her head to look at him over her shoulder.
Owen, who was still awake, eyed her
warily. “What are you laughing about?” he asked, in a decidedly suspicious
voice.
“Nothing.” She pulled up one of his
hands so she could kiss it. “I was just thinking that I was totally wrongheaded
about hesitating in the whole saying ‘I love you’ thing.”
“Okay. But why exactly does that make
you so happy?”
“Well, you might think you beat me to
the love-realization thing, but it really takes far more strength and courage
to confess your feelings first.”
He narrowed his eyes. “So?”
“So that means I won after all.”
Claire has been
writing romance novels since she was twelve years old. She has a PhD in British
literature and, when she's not writing, she teaches English at the university
level.
She also writes
romance novels under the penname Noelle Adams (
noelle-adams.com
). If you would like to
contact Claire, please check out her website (
clairekent.com
)
or email her at
[email protected]
.
Other Books by Claire Kent