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His rough voice fills my ear with two inexplicable words. “Use me.”
“No.” There’s a pause. “I need what I need too.” Another pause. “And I want it from you.”
We were both so hot for each other we were liable to burst into flames.
“Yeah. This part’s easy,” he says with a shrug. “What part?” “Telling you how good I want to make you feel. Telling you how good you make me feel. That’s the kind of talking I’m decent at.”
Sometimes I hate that he’s able to draw things out of me without even trying. He doesn’t ask or beg or push me to talk to him. It just happens when he’s around. All my secrets spilling out with abandon.
“You should be prepared,” Owen eventually says, glancing over to grin at me. “For what?” “You’re gonna marry that girl.”
“Like hell I can’t,” I growl. And then I give him another firm shove, forcibly moving him out of my way. “That’s my wife out there.”
