Not Connie and Jonathan. Or how all of them had gotten along
like a group of long-time friends, maybe because they were friends on some
level, considering how many years they’d all known each other. Or how she and
Owen were now strolling along the sand at the water’s edge, hand in hand.
Silent. Tucked close to ward off the unseasonable chill of the night, their
hips and shoulders brushing together as they moved. His presence was
comforting, the night peaceful with no need to fill the silence.
After a few minutes and a sharper gust of wind that bit into
them with a chill made worse by the damp fog blanketing the shoreline, Owen led
them back up toward the dunes that provided some protection from the breeze and
from prying eyes. He spread out the blanket and sat. Urged her to rest between
his outstretched legs, her back to his chest to protect her from what was left
of the wind. He wrapped his arms around her and tucked his face against her
cheek, creating delicious warmth from the contact.
They were virtually alone, with only the muted shadows of a
few distant beachgoers far down the beach at the water’s edge.
Long moments passed until he said, “You know what they
expect us to be doing, don’t you?”
She peered at him
from the corner of her eye. His features were neutral, giving away nothing of
what he was thinking.
“I do,” she said, but then plunged onward. “So do we do what
they expect because they’re expecting it?”
“In which case are we doing it because of that expectation,
or do we really want to do it?” he finished for her, so in sync with her
thoughts that it was almost downright scary.
She turned in his arms because she wanted to see every
aspect of his face for this discussion. Possibly a mistake. The kiss of
moonlight made his hair seem almost impossibly black and brightened the shards
of silver in his amazing eyes. The ephemeral light cast shadows on his features
but chiseled the sharp edges of that very masculine and handsome face. Gilded
the strong line of his lips, so irresistible. She ran her index finger across
his upper lip and then down to the spot where she knew that damn irresistible
dimple lurked.
Meeting his gaze, she saw how his pupils had dilated with
her caress and were now pools of a gunmetal hue. “Do you want to do it?”
He cupped her jaw and skimmed his thumb across the ridge of
her cheekbone. “What do you think?”
If he had asked her last night or even earlier that night,
before his toast, the answer would have been a resounding yes.
Now, she wasn’t so sure it made sense, although she had no
doubts that she wanted him physically. All the signs were there as he scraped
his thumb across her cheek again. The little twist of desire between her legs.
The heat racing across her body and the tightening of her nipples beneath the
sexy lace bra she’d worn in anticipation of tonight. But wanting more than
that?
“I think we both want…” she began but faltered.
“I want to touch you. Kiss you. I thought about it a lot
since last night and this morning, but I think we need to take it slow, Mags,”
he said.
“Slow is always good,” she kidded, although she knew where
he was going, and she was actually surprisingly on board with it.
He grinned, and that enticing dimple emerged, prompting her
to lean forward and drop a kiss there before shifting to lightly brush her lips
all along the edges of his.
“What is this?” he asked.
She chuckled and repeated what he’d said to her that
morning, which now seemed like ages ago. “If you can’t tell, I must not be
doing it right.”
He barked out a laugh so loud, she feared the others up on
the lawn might hear. She covered his mouth with her hand and felt his smile
there. Saw his amusement in the silvery glitter alive in his gaze.
“You always surprise me, Mags,” he whispered. “Maybe because
we don’t know each other well enough yet to take this to the next step.”
One dark eyebrow quirked upward. “Which is?”
She rolled her eyes and gave a rueful shake of her head. “I
don’t think I need to spell it out for you, Owen.”
“S-e-x,” he spelled out, and disappointment slammed into her
because deep down, in some part of her, she’d been hoping it would be more than
s-e-x. More like l-o-v-e. But maybe s-e-x was a first step to more. To the
happily ever after that Tracy was always chasing, Connie didn’t have time for,
and Emma just didn’t believe in. She was like none of her friends that way.
She’d always thought it would happen if the right man came along. But for lots
of reasons, she wasn’t sure Owen was Mr. Right.
He must have sensed the change in her mood. He stroked his
thumb across her cheek again, his touch both reassuring and sensual.
“Let’s get to know each other better, Mags,” he said, and
before she could agree, his lips were on hers again, coaxing a response. Gentle
but demanding. Exploring the edges of her lips with quick little kisses and her
bottom lip with a sexy nip that he soothed with his tongue.
She huffed out a breath as her nipples tightened even more,
and deep in her center, that intimate bite had her insides pulsing with need.
“Owen,” she whispered and dug her hands into his thick hair,
urging him close.
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