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I blinked at him. Of all the things I’d expected him to say, that hadn’t been it.
“And I like being someone else for a little bit,” he continued. “Someone… confident, who isn’t just a loser and a slut.” The edge of bitterness was there, I was sure of it, but it vanished so quickly that I couldn’t even tell when he hid beneath his mask once more. “Only thing I have going for me is that I’m not idiotic enough to skip the condoms.”
“I’m glad about that part, but you’re not a slut.” Was I imagining it, or did he flinch? He didn’t meet my gaze, that was for sure. I kept going, hoping I could get him to really listen to me. “You just know what you want and go after it. You wouldn’t wait for life to knock you over the head pointing out what you’ve been missing. You would have just gone for it. You’ve explored things, and all I’ve done is ignore the crazy things going through my head. You took control of your life and didn’t let everyone else tell you how to live it.”
How could he not see that? He was everything I wasn’t: confident, sure of himself and what he wanted. Commanding. Sexy.
I brought one hand to his chest and let my fingers skim over his shirt. “You got tattoos and didn’t even worry what anyone else thought. I never would’ve had that much courage.”
Owen finally looked up at me, and his eyes were glistening with… unshed tears.
I blinked. Had I ever seen him cry? I couldn’t remember. Not when we were kids, not at the funeral… though there had been the one time I’d thought I’d heard him through his door — but he’d told me to fuck off when I’d tried to ask if he was okay.
“I’m so jealous of you, you know,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I know I’ve been… cruel. It’s wrong, and I’m sorry, I really am. I just…” He bit his lip. “It was easier if you hated me.”
I stared at him in shock. It was like we’d watched the same movie but had seen completely different things. That wasn’t how I remembered it at all.
Before I could react, he barreled on, “You’ve always been perfect. You have a future people respect, and I like my fucking job even though people treat me like shit for it. Mom and Dad trusted you. Me?” He let out a hoarse laugh, shaking his head. “Didn’t matter what I did. They didn’t really see me.”
“No, it wasn’t like that at all.” I brought my hand up and cupped his face. “You were the one they respected. No matter what I did or how well I followed the rules, it didn’t matter. They respected you for taking your own path and making your own decisions. Even when you were little and you’d push back, they’d smile and shake their heads and look at you like you were so smart and feisty. Me? They just fussed and told me that I should do better, work harder… nothing compared to how proud they were of you.”
Owen sighed. “I was the second kid. You were their shining star, Adri, whether they let you know or not. They were glad they didn’t have to worry about you. I guess I sort of stole the spotlight a little, but I wasn’t as smart as you or as perfect as you, and…” He shook his head. “All right, that’s enough therapy for one night,” he said dryly.
I leaned in and gave him a kiss, just because I could and because I thought he needed it. He kissed back, one of his hands sliding down my bare back. Funny, how it didn’t seem strange at all that he’d be fully dressed while I wasn’t wearing anything. “They would have been so proud of you. You’re charging right in and are doing a fabulous job. You even got a promotion. I saw the paperwork you left on the table. Weren’t you going to tell me? I was so proud of you.”
Owen shrugged, his smile seeming forced. “It didn’t really seem to matter. Everyone thinks of it as some dead-end job to be ashamed of, even though there’s so much turnover that there are a ton of possibilities…” A flash of a grin that seemed more genuine flitted across his lips. “Plus, I get to boss people around. Total plus.”
Laughing, I leaned in and tucked my head against his neck again. “I should have known that was why you liked the job,” I teased him.
Letting my lips press against his skin, I took a chance and flicked my tongue over his neck. As much as I liked that he was sharing things with me, I didn’t like the way he saw himself. I wasn’t sure how to fix it. Distracting him seemed like the best option.
“I think you said you were going to help clean me up. That means you have to get naked, right?” I blushed and kept my face pressed against him so he couldn’t see.
His low chuckle said my distraction had worked. “Says who?” he retorted. “I can bathe you without taking off my clothes. But if you really want to ogle…” He leaned back and leered at me, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside.
Normally, the idea of it being so casually cast aside and left in a pile on the floor would’ve bothered me, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about anything but his bare chest.
Having permission to ogle and hopefully touch was so surprising that I just sat there for a moment, staring at him. He gave me a smirk and one eyebrow went up, almost challenging me.
I definitely had permission to touch.
Bringing my hand back to his chest, I felt the heat radiating from him. He was smooth and sculpted, and it made the tattoos stand out even more on his skin. I’d been drawn to them since the first day he’d come home with them, but this was different.
Telling myself they were interesting was one thing, but honestly acknowledging everything I really wanted to do was almost frightening. My hands traced over his chest, and I let my fingertips ghost over his nipples with the lightest touch. He made a soft sound that might’ve been a moan, but I couldn’t be sure. Peeking up at his face, I did it again. He bit his lip and gave me a heated look, and the stiff peak tightened under my touch.
There was just so much I wanted that I didn’t even know where to start — or where he was comfortable letting me explore. Moving my hand away from the sensitive skin, I let my fingers explore where they’d been itching to touch.
“I’ve always wanted to touch these.” I traced around the patterns and over the pictures he’d decorated his body with. “You would come out of the bathroom, and water would still be dripping down from your hair and over the tattoos. I just wanted to run my fingers over them.”
Days ago, even hours ago, I would have felt stupid telling him that, but everything was different. Everything had changed.
“I wanted you to run your tongue over them,” Owen admitted, dragging his bottom teeth over his lip and making me want to lick it, to suck it.
To do so much more than that, and it was nearly overwhelming.
“A couple I got when I was just being stupid,” Owen murmured, taking my hand in his and guiding his fingers to the flower between his shoulder and his chest. “Thought I’d be in less trouble if it was something pretty.” He grinned. “I wasn’t.”
“I loved them all.” My fingers kept moving over the skin. I couldn’t get enough. It was like some kind of a dam had burst inside of me. “I was so jealous every time I saw that you’d gotten a new one or when they would talk about it.”
