Bree

Owen’s mouth never leaves mine as he carries me out of the studio and down the hall, until my back is sinking into a mattress.

“Ye undo me, Bree,” he says gruffly, holding his weight on his forearms.

The intense, confused attraction I’d managed to keep somewhat under control, ruptures, heating my blood, and pooling at my core.

Awareness swells.

Our eyes lock.

And I’m falling.

Or maybe I’ve already fallen.

I just know there’s no coming back from this.

He pushes himself up so that he’s kneeling between my thighs and tugs his shirt over his head.

My eyes soak him in. Every line. Every muscle.

Wide shoulders. Coarse, rigid muscles that define his chest and arms. The dark patch of hair that disappears beneath his jeans.

Magnificent.

I suck in a breath as I let my eyes wander over the ink sketched across his arms, each symbol telling a story I want to know. My fingertips trail across his abs, up his chest, as I sit up to meet him. With slow, precise movements, he starts to undress me, teasing me with a grin as he flicks the button of my jeans open.

This.

Now.

Us.

It’s what I’ve been waiting for, even though I know the end will be my heart’s destruction.

Owen’s mouth trails a line of kisses across my hip bone, then my stomach, his fingers both soft and demanding.

My shirt and bra are discarded on the floor, and he takes a moment to study me, his fingers tightening in my hair, as he lets out a deep, guttural moan.

“Never had a chance,” he mutters, running a palm down my lower back and pulling me tight against him, his mouth capturing my own in a blind assault of lips, tongue, and teeth.

I gasp against his mouth, fingers gripping his shoulders, as he flips me back against the mattress, his hips rocking against mine.

“Owen,” I beg, my breasts heavy and tingling when he palms one, and twirls his thumb around the nipple.

Oh God.

He smiles against my mouth, levelling me with a look that matches my own desire. I arch my hips, rubbing against the hard length of his cock behind the denim that separates us.

My breath comes out in a rush when he pulls back, his fingers deftly removing my pants and underwear, so that I’m bare to him.

A flood of insecurities hit me. But only for a moment, because it’s hard to be insecure when a man looks at you like he’s ready to devour every inch of your body.

His mouth caresses the inside of my thigh and heat burns straight to my core. My hips jerk in anticipation. He grips my thighs, holding me open, and drags his tongue across my seam to my clit.

I gasp, my fingers diving into his hair as he teases my opening with a finger.

“Please,” I whimper, needing more than the gentle touches he’s giving me. Needing all of him.

Owen shifts off the bed.

Standing at the edge of the bed, he shoves his jeans and boxers down his legs, so he’s standing naked in front of me.

His erection strains towards me, in all its glorious length, and he smirks down at me, like he knows how freaking beautiful he is.

I soak him in. Every delectable inch. Memorizing every line of his beautiful body.

Mine, my heart cries out.

He crawls back onto the bed, his gaze never leaving my face, watching, studying, consuming.

“Ye’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs, his rich Irish brogue wrapping around me like an embrace.

He captures my mouth again. His lips are warm, demanding, and his palms slip across my wanting flesh. Dragging a finger through my wet center, I jerk towards him.

“Fuck,” he hisses a groan, his finger plunging deep inside me, pulling a strangled cry from my throat.

I hear the tear of plastic, feel him moving as he rolls the condom over his cock, and I shiver, an overload of sensations blazing through me, infusing every cell in my body with heat.

“Bree,” he croons against my lips, the thick head of his cock nudging against my opening. “Ye want this?”

More than anything.

“Yes,” I whisper.

He fills me with one hard thrust and I let out a small cry.

Falling.

Drowning.

Flying.

My body stretches, a slight burn of pain as I adjust to his size. But he doesn’t give me much time before he pulls out, then plunges back in, to the hilt.

He unravels me with every touch, every thrust, every kiss. Heat blazes like an inferno across my skin.

Waves of ecstasy.

Pleasure coils inside me. My head swims in the bliss, my body riding the tide of revelry.

His movements are frenzied, wild. And I match him, my hands grasping, touching, memorizing every part of him.

He breaks our kiss, fastening his gaze on me, his gray eyes stormy with the desire that rages between us. Every caress pulls me deeper, every thrust sending me tumbling further over the edge.

“So damn beautiful,” he rasps, his fingers fisting in my hair.

Intensity rises between us. Desperate. Feral. I see it in his eyes. The connection. His lust, my love, wrapping us up, and making us one in this moment.

I shatter beneath him, bursting into a million quivering pieces.

“Owen,” I cry out, holding on to him as desperately as I want to hold on to this moment.

“My God, Bree.” He says my name with reverence. Like it means something. Like I mean something.

With a strangled grunt, his body goes rigid. He shakes and jerks before collapsing on top of me, gulping for air.

We lay together, panting, and I cling to him, his forehead pressed against the side of my face.

I don’t want to move. Can’t move. Just want to stay here forever.

After a few minutes, he peels himself away, and shifts his legs over the side of the bed, discarding the condom, then lays back beside me, raking back the hair from his damp forehead.

He lifts his arm for me to slide closer. “Ye all right?”

Better than all right, and yet utterly destroyed at the same time.

I nod, placing my cheek on his chest. “You?” Warmth wraps around me as tight as the arms that anchor me to him.

“Ye’re incredible, ye know that?” His knuckles graze my shoulder, and he murmurs, “So beautiful.”

Hope flutters in my chest. And with it, the warning bells reminding me that this is nothing, just a fling. I’d made a promise to never let another man wreck me, to never be like my mother. But laying here in his arms, I understand why it’s called falling in love. I can feel my heart tumbling, out of control, into an abyss with no one to catch me. And no one to blame except myself when I finally land on solid ground.