FIVE SETS OF eyes stared at me, and despite the deep breath I’d just taken, my lungs felt as if they were still fighting for air. I rubbed my hands together, my gaze flicking to Owen, who stood in the back of the room, his intense green eyes watching my every move.
He smiled reassuringly, giving me a small nod as one silent word fell from his mouth. “Amazing.”
I couldn’t help but smile back.
God, he was so beautifully handsome, and if it weren’t for him being in the room, I wouldn’t have lasted the first ten minutes into my presentation. His words sat on my shoulder like a little red devil, poking me and prodding me with its damn pitchfork every time I stumbled over my own insecurities. He believed in me, and as it turned out, that was all I needed to believe in myself.
“Well, Ms. Callihan, I must say you’ve given us a lot to think about. Your argument was on point, and while I can’t promise you we’ll take the leap, I will promise that we’ll take everything you’ve presented to us here tonight into consideration.” Liam sat forward, closing the leather notebook he had been actively writing in throughout my presentation. “We’ll discuss it and should have a decision by Monday. And regardless of what becomes of the Bower manuscript, I think I speak for everyone here when I say we’re quite impressed and look forward to working with you on more projects in the future.”
My heart beat fast at his words, the Bower manuscript seeming less important at that exact moment. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
They all rose from their chairs, crossing in front of the table and shaking my hand before stopping and talking to Owen on their way out. He had since moved beside the door, his focus on them, but I felt his gaze on every part of me. It was like the longer I was around him, the more I craved his everything. And as terrifying as it was to think of him as anything other than my boss, I was desperate to tear down whatever this wall was between us and give in to what I was now confident we both secretly wanted—each other.
Once the room emptied, we both stood quietly, a million unspoken thoughts bouncing in the small distance separating us. He took a step forward, breaking our silence. “What do you say we go back to the room, change into something a bit more comfortable, and I take you to dinner.”
My lips tugged into a grin, and I nodded in agreement. “Okay.”
Owen’s hand found its usual place at the hollow at the base of my spine, and as we navigated the halls and rode the elevator up to the eighth floor, an energy ignited between us I’d never felt before. My body was on this high, perhaps from the adrenaline still pumping through my veins, but I was all too aware of him—the heat of his palm and the gentle touch of his fingers.
Without saying anything, we entered our room, and I immediately went for my suitcase, searching for a dinner permissible outfit. Pulling out a pair of jeans and a cute blouse, I made my way to the bathroom, hesitating at the sound of Owen’s phone ringing.
I stood on the other side of the door, which sat partially open, listening to half of the conversation.
“Hey. You missing me already?” His chuckle echoed through the room, and my interest piqued. Curious as to who he was speaking to, I glanced around the doorframe and leaned my ear closer.
“Yeah. No. I totally understand.” He paced the floor in front of the bed, his jacket unbuttoned and a hand on his hip. “Yeah. Yeah. Okay. No, I totally get it. I'll let her know. Thanks for calling.”
Owen slowly pulled the phone from his ear and disconnected the call, and as he turned around, I ducked back into the bathroom, hoping he hadn’t caught me eavesdropping on his conversation.
“Elle.”
I opened the door a bit too fast for my liking and stepped out, still in my original dress and heels. “Yeah?”
He was in front of me now, his expression hard to read. “That was Liam on the phone.”
“Oh?” My pulse sped up beneath my skin. “Is everything okay? I didn’t think he’d be calling until Monday.” He didn't respond, and I feared I knew why. I tried not to frown or sound too disappointed, but I couldn't help it. “They’re not going to take a chance on it, are they?”
Licking his lips, Owen pressed them into a firm, straight line. His eyes were cast downward, and the moment they flicked to mine, I knew. I knew.
“No.”
Disappointment felt like a tire iron to the chest as air punched from my lungs, leaving behind an ache I didn't know how to soothe. The corners of my eyes stung, and I willed the tears to stay at bay. I don't know why I was so emotional. It was just a story belonging to a stranger I had never met, but a part of me had this notion that if I could win them over on this I could win them over on me. Two months at Caldwell Publishing and despite what Liam had said, what Owen had said, time and time again, I still didn't feel as though I truly deserved my place. This was supposed to erase that feeling.
Stepping closer, Owen grabbed my hands by surprise, his eyes focused on his thumbs as they circled lazily over my skin. “Not only are they going to take a chance, but they are going to put in every effort to market it exactly as you proposed. They want you to work with them on seeing this project all the way through.”
“Wait. What?” My head snapped up, my eyes wide and round. My pulse throbbed at a rate I was sure exceeded heart attack levels, and I stared at him in disbelief. “I thought you meant they weren't—”
“You did it.” He shook his head, his lips spreading across his face in a larger-than-life grin. “You blew them away, just like I knew you would.”
“Oh my God.” As his words seeped into the part of my brain that processed that sort of thing, I squealed loudly, excitement causing me to jump right into his arms. I hugged him tightly, the delicious scent of his cologne enveloping me and making my head dizzy. “I can’t believe it!”
Loosening my hold, I pulled back a little—not entirely though because I loved his arms around me, the gentle strength of their embrace—and stared at his handsome face. Captivated. I was completely captivated. This was all him. This had been all his doing.
“Owen.”
Three seconds passed. His gaze narrowed. Our breaths mingled. And before either of us had a chance to come to our senses, Owen crushed his lips to mine.
He kissed me.
Hard.
His tongue swept into my mouth—stealing my breath, silencing my words, obliterating my thoughts—and my grip tightened. My hands climbed swiftly up his arms and over his broad shoulders, where they clung with a strength I didn’t know I possessed. I held on to him for dear life. I held on as if he was the only thing keeping me standing, and I was certain he was. A weakness spread through me like wildfire, and my knees trembled as he danced his tongue with mine in hot, needy strokes, and when he moved his hands up to my face, one slipping behind my neck and the other threading through my hair, my entire body sighed in relief.
I wanted this.
So did he.
He wasn't going to stop this.
Neither was I.
He walked me across the room, my feet stumbling in my heels and our mouths never parting as the back of my legs collided with the end of the bed. I had no choice but to collapse on top of it. Scooting myself farther up the mattress—Owen crawling above me, his strong, beautiful frame hovering just out of reach—I grabbed at his jacket. It quickly found a new home on the floor as I ripped it off, and I reached for the silk tie around his neck. My fingers curled around the material, tugging gently, a silent indication that I wanted, needed, him closer. I was desperate to feel his weight on top of me, pinning and pressing, his hard against my soft.
He gave me exactly what I wanted.
Lowering himself until our hips were flush—the thin fabric of my dress and his suit pants hardly a barrier between the heat of our skin—he rocked against me. I moaned, embarrassingly so, at the feel of his arousal lying hard and thick against my belly, and a shiver of pleasure rippled over every inch of my being.
My back bowed as our mouths continued to devour one another, a hunger I couldn't ever recall experiencing controlling and fueling my desperation.
Owen's hands roamed, blazing a fiery path over every curve, through my hair, across my breasts, down my sides, and finally to my thighs. His fingers disappeared beneath the skirt of my dress, and as his rough palm glided higher and higher, eventually reaching the delicate lace that hardly passed as an undergarment, he dragged his thumb slowly down my center, over the small bundle of nerves aching with intense need.
My chest rose on a sharp gasp, and I jerked at the feel of him between my legs, the sweet torture of his fingers, his touch. He rubbed me through the fabric, and as his mouth left mine and traveled to below my jaw, my hands took on a life of their own.
I timidly began to undo his tie, my fingers shaking a little as I tossed it to the floor and fumbled to free the small round buttons on his shirt. We were close, closer than we’d ever been, but it still wasn’t close enough. Losing patience, I tugged at the material, popping the last remaining buttons clear off, and immediately placed my hands against the warm lean muscle that made up his strong torso.
He was beautiful.
A magnificent sight to behold.
Owen’s lips caressed a trail of passionate, open-mouthed kisses down my neck, occasionally nipping and gently sucking as they moved over the base of my throat and across my collarbone before darting lower to the skin of my chest.
With his free hand, he reached up, pulling at the neckline of my dress, exposing one of my breasts. His breath was warm as he teased my taut nipple through my bra, and as he guided the strap of it from my shoulder and down my arm, I lifted my hips, silently requesting more.
More of his fingers.
More of his mouth.
More of the pleasure he was providing.
He needed no further instruction. His nimble fingers slipped beneath the lace guarding my lower half, and as they ran through the wetness that had gathered there—his lips and teeth grazing my nipple, teasing the tip of it with his tongue—he slid a finger inside me.
One at first and then two.
Another broken and breathless gasp left my throat, and if I hadn't been so preoccupied by the feel of him, I'm positive my cheeks would’ve turned one hundred shades of red. They probably had, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Owen’s hands were on me, in me, and his possessive mouth was claiming, placing its mark.
It felt so good.
He felt so good.
Through a half-lidded and heavy gaze, I watched him watching me. His eyes were dark and intense and full of pure sexual lust, and I barely registered anything else. His thumb circled my clit, around and around, back and forth, the pressure he applied absolute perfection. Each drive of his fingers pushed me higher, further, my body on the verge of capturing that coveted release I was desperate and eager to find. A coil of tension tightened in my lower belly, and I found myself rocking against his hand, trying to catch and match his expert rhythm.
“Come for me, Elle.” His voice was a gravelly whisper, and the deep growl that accompanied it vibrated across my skin, pushing me closer to climax.
I had read countless romance novels, always finding it a bit strange that women could magically come on command, but now, now I knew it was entirely possible. Owen’s voice alone and the intensity of his gaze had the power to seduce; add his tongue and hands to the equation, and I didn't stand a chance.
He continued his perfectly paced thrusts.
Push and pull, push and pull.
His fingers slipped out of me completely, but before I could mourn the loss, he drove them back in, passing this thumb over my throbbing center one more time as he did, and all of that built up tension unleashed itself in one shattering explosion.
Hips bucking and back arching high off the bed, I burst apart, my eyes fluttering shut as I called out his name in a moment of raw sensation and mind-numbing ecstasy. His immediate response was to reclaim my mouth, dipping his tongue in to catch and taste the sound of my moans as they transferred to him and vibrated down the back of his throat.
Every muscle turned languid.
My heart drummed beneath my ribs, and I lay unmoving, basking in the small aftershocks of pleasure. Incredible was the only word that came to mind.
Seconds later, Owen slowly and completely withdrew himself from between my thighs, and I felt empty without him.
“Owen. Please.” I don't know why I was begging or what I was even begging for exactly. He had just given me the best orgasm of my life, but somehow, it still wasn't enough.
Greed had me craving more.
I craved him. All of him. Everything he was willing to give. My hands went for the button on his pants, and as my fingers grazed the sensitive skin on his lower abs, he pulled back. His forehead pressed against mine, and he squeezed his eyes shut, his chest heaving.
After several long beats, those thick lashes resting on his cheeks lifted, and as my eyes met his, I stilled. There was something stirring to life behind his gaze, and it scared me a little, scared me because of what it could be and what it possibly meant.
His Adam’s apple moved on a hard swallow, and before I could mutter a word, he was gone. He flew off the bed and spun around, his head bowed low as he shoved his hands through his hair, fisting the strands. He groaned as if he was in actual, physical pain.
I sat up quickly, panic and fear turning me cold as I looked at him. “Owen?” He ignored me, and I licked the sudden dryness from my lips. “What's going on? Are you okay?”
His gaze swung to mine, and the anguished expression on his face stabbed straight through my chest, piercing my heart. I gasped from its impact. He wasn’t okay. He wasn’t okay at all.
And then I realized why.
Oh no. Please no. Please don’t regret this.
“I'm sorry, Elle.” His voice was hoarse. “I'm so sorry.”
Not even sparing me a second glance, he spun around again, this time cursing under his breath as he rebuttoned his shirt.
Watching him hurry out of the hotel room, I couldn’t force a reply past the lump of apprehension clogged in my throat.
Owen didn’t return that night.
At least not while I was awake. Sometime during the early hours when sleep and exhaustion had finally taken me and held me deep within its grasp, he must have quietly slipped in and collected his things.
I awoke the next morning to discover that he’d booked a sooner flight home—without me.