Page 101 of The Big Fix

There was something I had to ask, and when we got to my room, I did. “Why did you come back to Chicago when you finished your master’s? I know Silicon Valley was calling. You told me about all your job offers.”

“There were many,” he agreed.

“Was it because I put you through school and you felt like you owed me?”

“No, because as you told me on many occasions, that was money my parents had set aside for me. My folks paid for my education, not you.”

That was true for the most part. I’d subsidized a bit.

“Even though I know you helped,” he said, grinning at me.

“Oh, not much. I—”

“Stop,” he whispered, putting a hand on my chest. “You really are the worst liar.”

“There are worse things to be than a bad liar,” I grumbled.

“Yes, there are,” he agreed, slipping a hand around the side of my neck to draw me close.

The kiss that followed was hard and possessive, and I loved it, craved it, the need in me to submit—only here, between us—heating my blood.

“And for the record,” he murmured, staring into my eyes. “I came back to Chicago to be close to you.”

I was surprised. “You did? Why?”

He shook his head. “God, you’re dumb.”

“What?”

He scoffed. “So listen, I need to get things from my room,” Owen said, taking hold of my ass, squeezing tight, seemingly unable to stop touching me. “I’m sticky, so are you, so I’ll rinse off and be right back.”

He left me in my doorway, and I went and got under the warm water, taking soap to every part of me, and when I shut off the water, I was surprised to see he was already back, in only sleep shorts, standing on the other side of the glass.

“How long was I in there?” I asked him, worried I’d taken too long or lost time. I’d done that right after Owen and I were rescued. It came with the headaches, but it had receded as well, or so I thought.

“You weren’t in there any time at all,” he assured me, opening the door, a towel in his hand. “Come here.”

“You know,” I grumbled as I stepped out and he started drying my hair, “I’ve been doing this a long time.” He continued to my chest and back. “I can do this my—Owen,” I moaned when he dropped to his knees and took my cock, which had been thickening with his nearness, down the back of his throat.

His mouth was hot and wet, the suction perfect, and watching those lush lips stretch around me was enough to make me bury my fingers in his hair and hold tight. He sucked and laved, taking me deep and then licking my head before he rose in front of me, hand stroking and squeezing my cock.

“You’re a powerful, scary man, Jared Colter,” he said, his tone sultry, husky, “and you belong to me.”

No one else could boast about that because the only person I wanted to lay claim to my heart, soul, and body was Owen. I longed to be his, to have it be us, he and I together. Added to that was the dangerous glint in the emerald depths of his eyes, daring me to contradict him or argue. I was his, plain and simple.

“Yes,” I husked. “All yours.”

Releasing my cock, he grabbed my hand and tugged me after him, out of the bathroom, to my bed, which he’d turned down.

I was going to say something witty, but my mind went blank when his lips met mine. I opened for him, ready, willing, wanting him and the power in him to finally drive out all my demons and make me his home.

He kissed me slowly, languidly, tasting me, and the sounds he made, the happy humming, made me smile.

“Make me promises,” he whispered, cupping my face in his hands, holding me still as he deepened the kiss, devouring me.

Taking hold of his wrists, I pulled back so I could look at him, into his beautiful green eyes. “I won’t change my mind when we get home. I swear. And I won’t change my mind now. This is going to be us from now on.”

His eyes searched my face.