“ELLE.”
Hearing Owen’s soft whisper in my ear, I blinked awake, my eyes fighting to adjust to the harsh light of the bedside lamp beside me. “Hmm? What’s up? Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Everything’s fine. I need you to get up. I’m sorry it’s so early, but we have to be somewhere within two hours and it’s probably going to take us that long to get there.”
Pushing myself up on my elbows, I watched as Owen hobbled around on one foot while sliding his leg into his jeans. “What time is it?” I glanced over at the clock on the nightstand, squinting at the bright red numerals. Four in the morning. It was only four in the morning. A frown creasing my brow, I flicked my gaze back to Owen, who had since pulled on a shirt. “You really are insane, aren’t you?”
He walked over to where I was laying on the bed and leaned in, his arms supporting his weight as he hovered over me and dropped a kiss to my lips. “Just a little, but I promise it will be worth it. So, get that sweet ass of yours out of bed. We needed to leave like ten minutes ago.”
Groaning, I pushed the duvet from my body and stood to my feet. My hair was a tousled mess and I needed a shower. And coffee—lots and lots of coffee. “You’re lucky I love you, Mr. Caldwell.”
“Damn right, I am.” He smacked my ass as I walked past him. I jumped, squealed, and spun around, looking at him with wide eyes and an opened mouth. He smacked my ass! His lips were on mine, silencing me before I even had a chance to respond. “Get going before I throw you back on that bed and keep you confined to it all day.”
Shaking my head and laughing, I grabbed one of the shopping bags from the floor and headed for the bathroom. “Yeah, yeah.” I glanced over my shoulder and smirked at him. “I’m going, but just so you know, being confined to the bed all day with you is not a bad thing, especially if there is ass smacking involved.”
He flashed me a heart-stopping grin. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
I had no idea what Owen had up his sleeve for us that day. He had remained tight-lipped throughout our nearly two-hundred-mile express journey across France, dodging and avoiding any of my attempts at discovery. When the winding roads came to a stop and the trees thinned, an open field where our next adventure awaited was revealed.
Breathless and at a complete loss for words, I stepped out of the car, Owen following my lead. A light, early morning breeze rustled through the air, and as his hand found mine, our fingers lacing together, I looked up at him, enthralled by his constant ability to amaze me. We walked hand in hand over the grassy knoll—the dewy blades of grass cutting at our ankles—and toward the group of men who had been waiting for our arrival. Owen offered them a curt nod and shook their hands, and much to my surprise they spoke fluent English. Out of the four guys, two of them appeared to be around our age while the two others were at least twenty years to our senior.
“Have either of you ridden before?” one of the younger gentleman asked, gesturing to the large basket whose brightly colored nylon balloon lay sprawled along the field beside it.
We both shook our heads, and he smiled, clapping Owen on the shoulder. “Ah, quite a beautiful experience…” His voice, laced with his thick French accent, trailed a little as his hazel eyes flicked lazily over my form. “And such a beautiful lady you get to experience it with.”
I blushed at the man’s flattery, and Owen’s hand tightened on mine as he tugged me not so gently into his side. He kissed my temple, his eyes burning a hole in the crewmember who had flashed him an almost shameless grin and then walked off to prep the balloon for flight.
“Fucking Frenchmen,” Owen muttered under his breath, tension rolling off him in waves. Every one of his muscles was pulled rigidly tight, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. He was jealous. And I sort of liked it. I sort of liked it a lot.
“You know”—I turned toward him, grabbing the collar of his shirt and dragging his lips to mine so I could speak against them—“protective and possessive Owen is incredibly sexy.”
He brushed his nose along mine. “Is that right?”
I nodded and closed the distance between our mouths, capturing his lips in a brief but no less intense kiss that left my entire body trembling and yearning for more. “I’m yours, Owen Caldwell, and French accent or not, he has nothing on you.”
Owen smiled a cheesy grin before kissing me again. “Good. Because I’d hate to have to spend the rest of my days in a French prison on assault charges.”
Not entirely convinced he was joking, I decided to squash his insecurities with the tip of my tongue, tangling it with his in soft strokes. We stood lost in each other’s embrace, exchanging smiles and laughs and kisses like two lovesick teenagers, until the pilot called out that it was time to board. Since Owen was much taller and stronger than I, he climbed over the wall of the basket first before turning and hoisting me in with him. His arms immediately circled my waist, and as he pulled my back flush with his chest, he buried his face in my hair, the warmth of his breath tingling the sensitive skin at my nape. His chest rose on a deep inhale as if I were supplying the air his lungs needed, and feeling his heart pounding, I glanced to the side to look at him.
“Are you nervous?”
“Yes.” He gave me a small nod, his voice a whisper in my ear. “Yes, I am.”
Turning around to face him, I clasped his cheeks in my hands and smoothed my thumbs over the layer of stubble dusting his jaw. There was something insanely attractive about a man who wasn’t afraid to admit his fears, to show his vulnerable side, and Owen had been doing that a lot lately. “It was a thoughtful gesture, Owen, but we don’t have to do this. I am more than happy with keeping our feet on the ground.”
“No.” He shook his head adamantly and blew out a shaky breath. “Am I nervous? Yes. Am I scared shitless? Abso-fucking-lutely.”
I laughed a little and Owen smiled halfheartedly, his fingers sweeping up locks of my hair and tucking them behind my ears.
“But you’re here, and when I’m with you, I feel invincible. I feel like I can conquer the whole damn world. So, we’re doing this, okay?”
“Okay.”
I was determined not to cry. I’d done enough of that over the last few days, and instead I gifted him a smile that revealed every corner of my heart, all the once empty spaces he had spent the previous three months filling with his love. Owen kissed my nose and as he pulled back, the pilot took that moment to brief us on the rules and what to expect during ascension and the course of the flight.
In what seemed like no time at all, the balloon made its rise into the sky and we were hovering nearly twelve hundred feet above ground, floating over the Loire Valley. The scenery was mesmerizing. Miles and miles of bucolic vineyards, stone villages, sunflower fields, and meandering rivers and streams lay below us. Add in the beautiful architecture of the buildings and the magical views of Château de Chenonceau, as well as the numerous other castles and manor houses, and it felt like we were living in a fairy tale.
My hands resting on the side of the gondola, I stared down at the earth below, unable to take it all in as fast as I wanted to. “This is…”
God, I had no words.
“Breathtaking.” Owen finished my thought, and I nodded softly. With his cheek pressed to mine and his body wrapped like a blanket around me, he slid his hands up my arms. “It is, but if you ask me, you’re the most breathtaking part of the entire view.”
I pulled in a shuddering breath, the pulsing ache that lived in my heart trying to reawaken itself. “You really have to stop doing that.”
“Stop doing what?”
“Being so impossibly perfect all the time. I don’t know how you do it, but you keep making me fall more and more in love with you.”
A solitary tear slipped from the corner of my eye, and Owen caught it with his lips. He brought his mouth to my ear. “As long as I am living, I will never stop reminding you of how incredibly in love with you I am or how beautiful and amazing you are.”
And what about when he was gone?
Who would I have to remind me then?
Later that evening I sat at the desk in the corner of our suite, watching as Owen slept peacefully in the center of the bed. He’d fallen asleep as soon as we made it back to the room, and I didn’t have the heart to wake him or even keep him awake. I knew he didn’t sleep well, and so I let him go, instead keeping myself preoccupied with the rooftop views and a book.
Walking over and placing it on the nightstand, I kneeled on the bed and kissed his cheek, my hands running through the soft strands of his hair. God, what I wouldn’t do for a miracle. Life wasn’t fair—I knew that, I knew that better than anyone—but this time it had been downright cruel. I loved him so much, and the idea of losing him—no matter how much I attempted to put it out of my mind—was always there, weighing heavily and crushing any chance at even a second’s worth of happiness. The day I’d stumbled through his office door, I’d merely been hoping to land a job—a career, a foot in the direction of my dreams—I’d never expected to find the missing part of my heart.
He had done so much for me.
And yet somehow, I felt like I was disappointing him.
He had been right that day in my apartment when he said I was too scared to take a chance on myself. Of course, there were other external factors, but it was fear that had ultimately kept me from truly moving forward, and it wasn’t until I met Owen that I realized just how afraid I’d been, how afraid I still was. The man who had given me a chance had turned out to be the same person who had given me everything. He was fighting harder for my dreams than I was, and I owed it to him to make an effort at catching them.
Carefully moving off the mattress so as not to wake him, I moved back over to the desk. The unopened laptop box rested on top, and I peeled the tape away, removing the protective padding that kept it secure. I pulled out the shiny new gadget, my fingers almost dancing in excitement at the promise of tapping away at the keys, and pressed the power button, watching the light flicker on and the screen illuminate while simultaneously holding back the shrieking sound of a squeal. My impatience grew as I navigated through screen after screen, adjusting my settings and fine-tuning my preferences. Once setup had been completed, I immediately opened the word processor and rested my fingers against the keys.
They hesitated for the length of two seconds before they started to move, the words dripping from my fingertips like magic. They poured out of me as if they had their own story to tell and I was merely the connection between my thoughts and the screen. Time escaped me. I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, but when the dull lights of the street lamps filtered through the sheer curtains, I switched on the lamp beside me and scrolled back to the beginning, staring at the words I’d typed.
Chapter One
I was going to be late, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
Staring down at the cheap, knock-off Rolex strapped to my wrist, I watched as another minute passed by, the small hand reminding me time was clearly not on my side. Then again, it never was. Come to think of it, I wasn't sure it was on the side of anyone who lived in the big city. Everyone was pressed for it, for one more second, eager to get where they needed to be.
My wet blonde hair—which I hadn’t had a chance to blow dry or make presentable—blew carelessly in the wind, and my heels pounded across the pavement as I rounded the corner of 42nd Street, darting for the subway. The only sound louder than the early morning breeze whipping across my face and the bustle of the people on the sidewalks was my parents’ desperate voices, their fears and stresses from the day before echoing in my ears and making my feet move faster.
God, I needed this.
For once in my life, I needed something to go right. Now more than ever, I was wishing my lucky stars would align.
My eyes scanned over the first couple of paragraphs, and I smiled to myself. Something did go right that day: I'd met Owen and my life changed for the better. As I sat reading through the rest of what I’d written, large hands curled around my waist and soft lips kissed the skin on my shoulder, slowly caressing a path up my neck and to my ear. “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you look right now sitting here writing? Jesus, Elle, I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on in my life.”
I shut my laptop, my eyes drifting closed as a small moan erupted from the back of my throat at the feel of Owen’s mouth on me. “Oh yeah?”
“Mhm.” Skimming one hand up my stomach and cupping my breast in his palm, he sucked on my earlobe, gently nipping as he dragged it between his teeth. “What are you writing anyway? Please tell me it’s the rest of that manuscript I’ve been desperate to read.”
“Not exactly. This is pers—” A sharp gasp expelled from my lungs as the rough pad of his thumb brushed over my already hard and aching nipple, and I arched into his touch, wanting more. “It’s personal.” I breathed harshly, barely finishing my thought.
“Personal, huh?” Owen quickly turned me around, his mouth finding and devouring mine in a hot and hungry kiss. His hands moved to my waist where he lifted me effortlessly out of the chair and hauled me against his chest, my legs circling his waist. He carried me back to the bed, a lust-filled determination in his dark and heavy-lidded eyes that told me we were about to create an entirely new definition for the word.