Cate stood perfectly still even though her body was vibrating with enough want to steal her breath. Less than an arm’s length separated her from Owen, yet she was keenly aware of the distance, of the fact that he wasn’t touching her, just standing inches away with that strawberry in his hand like a dare she was dying to take. The way his callused fingers gripped the delicate fruit with both intention and care sent a shiver over her, and oh, God, how would a touch like that feel on her nipples, which were now tight peaks behind the lace of her bra? What would it do to the sensitive skin on her thighs, or deep in the spot where they came together, where she ached to have him most?

“Go on,” Owen said, his voice low and rough. “Taste.”

She opened her mouth at the same time he lifted the strawberry to her lips. The berry was perfectly sized, and she closed her lips over it and started to chew. Flavors rushed over her tongue, first sweet, then heady and slightly tart, and the more she chewed, the more she wanted.

Please. Please, make me feel good.

Cate gulped down the bite, greedy for another. But Owen didn’t move, just made a noise that was part protest, part something else she couldn’t name yet still found unbelievably hot.

“No.” He grabbed another strawberry, running the soft curve of the fruit over the edge of her lower lip. “Don’t eat it. Taste it.”

“What’s the difference?”

God, she should feel self-conscious at how she sounded, so full of breath and need. But then Owen’s pupils flared, filling his gray stare with a darkness that sent a jolt from her belly to her clit, and she held on to his stare even though she knew what he’d see when he looked at her.

“Tasting it is an experience,” he said, holding the strawberry over her lips. “You focus on the flavors. The feel of the food on your tongue, the vitality of it. When you taste something—really taste it—you’re surrendering to the flavors. You’re letting yourself enjoy it. That’s the difference.”

Cate bit into the second strawberry without thinking twice. A moan caught in the back of her throat, and oh, God, how could such a simple experience make her feel so much?

“Oh,” she whispered. Looking up, she realized how carefully Owen had been watching her. He stood close enough for her to feel the heat of his body, to see the tension humming in the hard, roughhewn muscles beneath his T-shirt and jeans, and, impulsively, she reached up to touch his face.

“What about you? Aren’t you hungry, too?” she asked, her heart pounding faster as his heated exhale filled the scant space between his chest and the rise of her breasts.

“Oh, I’m plenty hungry, sweetheart. But the only thing I plan on tasting tonight is you.”

Cate pressed forward to kiss him, but he was already there, pulling her close and slanting his mouth over hers. Their lips crashed together, parting in a tangle of tongues so deliciously hot, she nearly cried out. Searching desperately, she latched on to Owen’s upper lip, holding it between her own for one decadent second before gliding her tongue along his smooth, soft skin. But as quickly as she’d taken the lead, he took it right back, hooking his fingers in her hair to hold her steady as he turned her back to the island and pushed deeper into her mouth. He kissed her hard, but without urgency, as if he had an endless well of intensity and the only thing he wanted was to focus it on her. Their tongues slid together, lips tugging and taking and tasting in an erotic back and forth that sent a tremble through Cate’s belly that quickly became a demand.

“Owen.” His name spilled from her mouth as he parted from her lips, trailing a firm, hot path of kisses over her jaw to her neck. Cate reached for the hem of his T-shirt, surprise sparking through her chest when not only did he not protest, but he lifted his arms over his head to help her pull the thing off in one quick yank.

Whoa. She’d already known his body was gorgeous, thanks to the T-shirt mishap/miracle on her first day of work. But this close up, with his tanned skin and work-sculpted muscles and the dusting of dark hair leading from his chest to all points south, Owen was a work of freaking art.

Cate reached out to touch him, but she realized—too late—that he’d maneuvered his hands over her hips, angling closer to bring their bodies completely flush. Even in her heels, he still had a good four inches on her, which gave him the perfect leverage to splay his fingers over her ass and lift her to the countertop with ease.

“Oh!” she exclaimed at the same time he murmured, “That’s better.” The change in vantage point brought his mouth in line with her collarbone, and he transferred his grip to her hips, hauling her close as he settled between her thighs.

“These freckles are incredibly sexy,” Owen said, tracing a finger from the hollow at the base of her throat into the deep V of her blouse.

Her nipples tightened at the nearness of his touch and how badly she wanted him there, but still, she managed to laugh. “Are you serious? They’re freckles.” In truth, she’d always hated them.

The edges of Owen’s mouth moved just enough to hint at a smile, taking the tightness of her nipples to a needy tingle. “I’m always serious, remember?”

Leaning in, he pressed his lips to her neck, sliding the edge of his tongue from one spot to the next, tasting her just as he’d promised.

“Oh.” Goddddd. Cate’s head fell back. “Okay, maybe they’re sexy after all.”

“They’re definitely sexy,” he said, his lips parting over her skin in a wicked smile she both saw and felt. “I’ve been dying to find them all for weeks now.”

Her heartbeat shifted from the steady pound of arousal to a pang of pure surprise. “You have?”

Owen pulled back to pin her with a stormy gray stare, his eyes glinting in the soft, pink-gold sunlight around them. “You really don’t know how stunning you are, do you?”

Cate drew in a sharp breath. In all her life, no one had ever used that word to describe her. Yet standing here, all hot and bothered in the middle of his kitchen, when Owen looked at her, that’s what he saw.

Hooking a finger under her chin, he tilted her face up until their gazes met. Held. “That’s okay,” he said, brushing a kiss over her lips. “I’m going to show you.”

And oh, he did. One by one, Owen freed the buttons on her blouse, each rustle of the fabric sending heightened want through her body. Finally, thankfully, he reached the last one, sliding his hands between the two sections of fabric to part them over her body.

“Christ,” he bit out. But the curse was reverent, more like a benediction than a swear, and he slid his thumbs over the satiny straps of her bra. “Your body is perfect.”

The irony caught Cate right in the center of her chest, so hard she nearly balked. The reality was, her body was far from perfect. Silvery stretch marks she’d kept covered for years, the C-section scar she’d earned by default, all of it had always made her a lights-down-low kind of girl.

But when Owen said she was perfect, she believed him. Even if it was just for this moment, this night. Right now.

Cate let go of a shaky exhale, letting him look his fill. “Then take it,” she said with a defiant lift of her chin.

His laugh moved through her like a living, breathing thing. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Do you think I’d ask for it if I wasn’t?”

“No,” Owen said. Still, he shifted back to put some space between them—not much, just enough for her to see the seriousness in his stare—and she hooked her legs around his hips to haul him right back in.

“I’m very, very sure,” Cate murmured against his lips, “that if you don’t keep undressing me, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Ah.” He kissed her deeply, just once before his fingers found the lacy edges of her bra. “That’s where you’re wrong. Because I’m going to keep undressing you.” He slid her shirt from her shoulders as proof. “And then you’re going to lose your mind.”

Owen dropped his mouth back to her neck, and, just like that, she was lost. His fingers—clever things—hooked beneath her bra straps, moving them just far enough out of the way for him to kiss an unimpeded path from her neck to her shoulder, then the flat expanse of her upper chest. Cate’s mind spun, the voice that always told her she wasn’t meant for things like this lurking in the periphery of her thoughts, and she closed her eyes to try and stay in the moment.

Owen froze into place, his lips just above the curve of one breast. “Cate. Open your eyes.”

“What?” she asked, blinking down at him in confusion.

“Eyes first, remember?” He raked his gaze to the spot where his mouth hovered over the hardened outline of her nipple behind the powder-blue lace, waiting for her to follow suit before saying, “Leave them open and watch. See how beautiful you are.”

The idea was so provocative, so deliciously dark and dirty, that it sent a thrill all the way through her. Her position on the counter offered a perfect view of Owen’s dark head, his strong, firm mouth, his callused fingers on her achingly sensitive skin, and she nodded, keeping her eyes wide. Lowering her chin, Cate watched as he splayed one hand beneath her rib cage, reaching between her shoulder blades with the other to release her bra with an economical turn of his wrist. Owen swept the lace away from her body, moving the hand on her rib cage up at the same time his mouth moved down.

A noise came from the back of his throat, primal and low. Cupping her breast to hold her steady, he closed his lips over her nipple, and the warm, wet friction made her moan.

“Ah.” Cate’s hands found his bare shoulders, her nails curving into his skin. But despite the sensations sailing through her and the fact that they should make her feel vulnerable, she watched. Arousal grew, hot in her belly, as Owen gripped her tightly and began to suck. He alternated slow, open-mouthed kisses with hard, fast swirls of his tongue, repeating both until her body was pulsing with pleasure and want. Her clit throbbed, her core clenching with the building need to have his cock buried between her legs, yet she couldn’t tear her eyes from what he was doing to her, from how it made her feel.

And Owen refused to rush. He worked her body with his mouth and hands, licking and tasting and taking and giving, until finally, he pulled back to look at her.

“See?” His fingers skimmed her breasts, then the top of her waist, his smile growing dark at the sight of her nipples, dark pink and glistening from the attention of his mouth. “Fucking beautiful.”

“I want more,” Cate said, her body humming like a live wire, full of energy in need of a place to go. “Please, Owen. Show me more.”

As quickly as he’d lifted her to the countertop earlier, he unseated her, his arms around her until her feet found purchase on the hardwood floor. He moved with purpose, his muscles bunching and releasing as he reached for the button on her pants.

Her sex grew slick, even as her belly tightened at the renewed potential for vulnerability. But just as she’d been hypnotized by the sight of Owen’s mouth on her breasts, her heart quickly pounded in excitement at the prrrrrrp of her zipper, the way his pupils dilated at the slide of the fabric moving lower, lower. Cate kicked out of her sandals, then her pants, leaving her in nothing but the pale blue panties that had been in the far reaches of her top drawer for half a decade. Her eyes registered the imperfections—the starker-than-normal jut of her hip bones, the stretch marks, the faded scar that lined up with the top of the lace. But what she saw was Owen’s expression, and, in that moment, everything else fell away.

“Still sure?” he asked quietly.

She nodded before both words were all the way out. “Still sure.”

His mouth quirked with seductive intention. “Good,” he said.

And then he hit his knees.

“God, just look at you,” Owen murmured. His gaze lit over her panties, which were level with his line of sight, his breath hot on her skin. A whimper worked at Cate’s throat, ragged and needy, but she forced herself to swallow it, to feel everything about the moment she was in.

Owen didn’t make it difficult. He dragged a finger over the seam of her sex, the friction from the lace sending sparks across her vision, and her hips tilted, chasing his touch.

He did it again, then again, and oh, God, she was going to come before he got the damned things off her body.

“Owen,” she said, part plea, part curse.

“Don’t worry. I hear you.” Slipping his fingers under the strings at her hips, he pulled the lace all the way off, leaving her completely bare. “Keep those eyes on me, beautiful. I’ll show you everything.”

Then his mouth was on her, and Cate lost the ability to breathe, let alone see.

“Mmm.” Owen’s voice rumbled, heightening the tension deep between her hips. Her lips parted on a soundless gasp, her body arching into his touch, and he held nothing back. Angling his shoulders between her thighs, he explored her sex with his lips and tongue. His fingers joined the movements a minute later, gently testing, stroking, lighting her up. Cate’s clit pulsed with the demand to be touched, even as pleasure coursed through her from his other ministrations. Owen slid his tongue up, over her sex, and she rocked her hips to get him where she needed him to be.

“There,” Cate cried out, pleasure bursting through her first at the contact, then again at the sight of his wicked smile, buried between her legs. Owen didn’t balk at being given direction. Instead, he took full advantage, pressing his tongue against her clit for a hard glide that tore a moan from her throat.

And still, she watched.

Turning her chin against her chest, Cate fastened her eyes on him as he pleasured her, stroke by stroke. His strong hands bracketed her hips, one shoulder pushing up just enough on her inner thigh to lift her foot from the floor, and, oh. Oh, God, she’d never felt so good or needed so fucking much. He tasted and licked, his tongue thrusting inside once, then twice, before he returned to her clit. Uncut sensation sang in her veins, her need coiling and doubling and growing unbearably hot between her hips. Owen met it with every movement, and she lowered a hand to the back of his head, knotting her fingers in his hair. Release built, powerful and bright in Cate’s belly, yet still, she didn’t close her eyes.

She felt powerful. Sexy. Alive.

She felt everything.

Her orgasm ripped through her, bringing her breath to a standstill and her back to a full arch against the counter. Owen worked her through each wave, kissing and stroking every last tremble from her before softening his touch and eventually pulling back to look at her. For a minute that could have been two, or even twenty, they stared at each other, chests moving up and down, eyes wide. Then Owen stood, grabbed her hand, and turned toward the hallway.

“What are you doing?” Cate blurted, her brain trying desperately to function.

He shot her a glance over his shoulder. His wicked smile was back in all its glory, his gray eyes glinting with intention that had the heat between her legs rebuilding in an instant.

“After that? I’m taking you upstairs to my bed, where I can fuck you good and proper. Now, are you coming, or do I have to pick you up and carry you?”

“Are you kidding?” She laughed. “I’ll race you to the goddamned stairs.”

They moved through his hallway—thank God for curtains and remote country living—stopping a few times along the way for some slow kisses that made Cate’s heart race. They made it to his room in a tangle of arms and legs and mouths, and he led her to his bed, easing her over the dark blue quilt and settling between her thighs.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Palming his shoulders, Cate hooked a leg over his hip, switching their positions in a less than a breath.

Owen’s eyes flared. “Cate—”

“Shh.” She silenced him with a firm brush of her lips, shifting back until she straddled his thighs. “I want you, too, Owen. So shut up and let me have you.”

He stared at her, but only for a second before his hands lifted in concession. Cate’s pulse knocked at her throat, and, oh, she didn’t want to wait. Reaching out, she ran her fingers over the top of his jeans, the soft cotton a complete contradiction to the hard muscles beneath it. Owen’s stare followed her touch, and the intensity in his eyes made her even bolder. She undid the top button, undressing him in quick motions until they were both naked on his bed.

“Oh.” It was, of course, an understatement. Cate had thought the corded muscles shaping Owen’s midsection were sexy, but clearly, she hadn’t even known the definition of the word. His hips were lean, ridges and valleys of honey-colored skin suggesting latent power. A trail of dark hair arrowed from his navel downward, his cock jutting proudly over his lower belly, and, God, he was the hottest, most provocative thing she had ever seen.

She slid her fingers over his abs, her breath growing thicker in her lungs at the way his muscles jumped in reply. Arousal stirred, no longer a whisper in her core, and Cate moved lower, letting her hand find his cock.

Owen exhaled, his hands turning to fists at his sides. Still, his gaze didn’t waver. He watched as she wrapped her fingers around him, testing different movements and measuring the best ones by the sound of his breathing. His hips lifted off the mattress to guide her, but after less than a minute, he grabbed her wrist with a soft curse.

“Cate,” he said, shaking his head when she opened her mouth to protest. “We aren’t going to be here much longer if you don’t stop. And I’d really, really like to be here longer if that’s okay with you.”

The look on his face said he was actually asking, that if she argued in earnest, he’d give her what she wanted, exactly how she wanted it.

But she wanted more.

Cate let go and shifted forward to kiss him. “I want you, Owen. I don’t want to wait.”

He was out from beneath her in a heartbeat. Turning toward his bedside table, he grabbed a condom, putting it on with a quick, careful glide. She lay back on the quilt, letting Owen settle between her thighs. He ran a fingertip over her sex, lingering on her clit for just a stroke, then slipping inside her with ease. The sensation made her inner muscles squeeze, giving both the sense of fullness and the promise for more. The blunt head of his cock followed his finger, and Cate couldn’t wait. She angled her hips to take him deeper, but he was already there, pushing inside with one swift thrust.

“Holy…” Owen sent the word through his teeth, his hands gripping the quilt by her shoulders.

“I know,” she breathed. The pressure between her legs felt almost too much to bear, so intense and darkly good. She shifted, just a tiny movement back, and when he pressed forward to fill her again, Cate cut out a moan.

“Just don’t stop.”

He didn’t. Drawing back, Owen balanced his weight between his hands and his knees, thrusting into her in slow, long movements. The back and forth became a rhythm, and Cate set her hands on his hips, rocking along with him to meet it. He leaned in, his chest providing just enough friction on her nipples to tempt her to scream.

“Cate,” he said, placing his forehead on hers, his lips just over her lips. “Watch. Watch how pretty you are when you come.”

Owen moved back, redistributing his weight to his knees. The change in angle let him find some hidden spot inside her core, his cock stroking it and daring her closer to release with every pump of his hips.

“Look.”

The word was rough-edged and covered in gravel, and Cate was powerless against it. Dipping her chin, she fixed her eyes on the spot where their bodies joined, and the primal intimacy of what she saw sent her over the edge. She came with a keening cry, bowing up to let Owen fill her over and over again. His movements grew more intense, his breath sawing past his lips.

“Ah, fuck,” he grunted, his jaw like granite. With one last thrust, he filled her to the hilt, his body shuddering as he buried himself deep and came.

Cate’s heartbeat was the first thing that registered, although how much later, she didn’t know. The soft press of it against her eardrums served as the soundtrack for everything else as her body came back online—breath, muscles, hearing. Owen shifted off of her, then into the bathroom for a minute. Emotions lurked in the periphery of her mind like shadows, and she wasn’t naïve enough to think she could keep them at bay.

A man like Owen Cross isn’t for you. Keep your stupid heart to yourself, for both your sakes.

But then Owen lay down bedside her, his body warm and his mouth on hers in a soft, sweet press, and even though Cate knew this feeling couldn’t last, she pushed the voice aside for just a little while longer.