The Sound of Consequence (Puget Sound ~ Alive With Love Book 1) (15 page)

When she reached the couch, Stacie dug into the snacks, making a crackers and cheese sandwich. She wolfed it down and had another. She couldn’t answer any more of his all too personal questions if her mouth was full.

Stupid Merlot. Not to mention the effect Owen’s deep voice had on her, practically putting her into a trance. He may as well have given her truth serum for the effect it had on her.

Caught up in the frustration of giving Owen too much personal information, Stacie made a mess of herself. The crackers crumbled everywhere. She wanted to brush them off the sexy black dress, but what was she going to do, let them fall to the floor?

Before she’d come up with a solution, Owen pulled her to her feet. Then he proceeded to take care of the crumb problem by lightly moving his hands across her breasts. The small shards of crackers fell to the floor and Owen didn’t seem to care. He tugged on the dress and looked down into her cleavage.

“Saving some for later?” he asked as his fingers moved down and continued to brush the crumbs away.

Stacie was forced into silence by the mouth full of dry crackers and sharp cheddar.

“Or maybe these are for me.” He ran his tongue along her skin, then kissed her where the crumbs had fallen.

As always, his touch sparked the fire that always burned for him. The warmth of his tongue left a wet trail that inspired an arousing chill as his breath trailed over the damp trail.

“They’re a little dry.” He poured wine onto her exposed skin. Though at room temperature, the wine felt bitter cold in contrast to his electric hands. His tongue swept across the spill in a delicious dance that had Stacie wanting to bathe in merlot just to feel Owen’s tongue all over her body.

“Mmm, that’s better.”

After Stacie swallowed the last of the crackers without choking, Owen raised his glass to her mouth. She took a long, slow sip, the wine warming her throat and belly. The fire that traveled throughout her body heated under Owen’s gaze. She was going to spontaneously combust if he didn’t get serious with this seduction very, very soon.

As if reading her mind, Owen finished off the glass, then put it on the table. His mouth landed on her neck as he pushed her back against the wall.

Owen’s hand was firm, yet
gentle as he palmed her breast. The tingle his caress inspired spread to where his other hand tangled in her hair, pulling her to the inferno of his mouth. His tongue ignited the spark, fire raging between their bodies.

Stacie felt the press of his erection and for a fleeting moment thought of the canvas with the brushstrokes that looked like a penis. Anxious to touch the real thing, she pushed his shorts down, not surprised to find he wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

The velvet skin of his erection was hot as she stroked him. Owen groaned, his hand sliding under the dress to push aside the lace thong with hardly any effort. She wondered whether it was experience or desire that made him so swift with his hands. Then she didn’t care as his fingers played between her legs.

Great Gatsby, he knew just where to touch her to make her…

In that moment, he stopped and the orgasm that was about to soar retreated with bitterness.

“Wait here,” he said and disappeared into the bedroom.

Breathing like she’d just finished a marathon, Stacie could hardly believe Owen had walked away when she was on the verge of an orgasm. In seconds he was moving across the room like a man on a mission, removing a condom from its wrapper. He hit the light switch, allowing the room to fill with the glow from the city. The rain continued to patter as the shadows played across Owen’s muscles.

Beautiful. The man was simply beautiful.

With a surge of gentle aggression, he pressed Stacie against the wall, his eager tongue filling her mouth, hungry, searching. Strong hands roamed over the fabric of the dress and across every inch of skin in a fever that was contagious. Stacie felt her own desire heighten. Muscles tightened as every nerve ending tingled to life in a delicious storm.

It was time to lose the dress and shoes. Stacie pushed the straps off her shoulders. Owen’s hands moved up her body, easing her hands away and replacing the straps.

“Leave ’em,” was all he said before his lips found hers again. The kiss was short-lived. Before she could register the movement, she was turned around, arms pressed against the wall. His foot kicked lightly against the strappy shoes, spreading her legs slightly further apart. She imagined this was how cops frisked a suspect. Except this was way sexier than something as seedy as a criminal getting busted.

Owen swept her long hair to one shoulder, his breath hot enough to boil blood. “This is what I’ve wanted to do to you ever since you showed up at my door tonight. In this dress.” His hands moved down her body, then his bare foot tapped the stiletto. “In these shoes.”

Owen hiked up the dress and was inside of her with one swift thrust.

Never in a bazillion years would the old Stacie have thought that having sex standing against a wall would be even close to satisfying. Or even possible. Thank goodness the new Stacie had taken control of things.

Actually, Owen had taken control, but Stacie didn’t have a problem with that. The logistics seemed impossible given Owen’s height, but the warmth of his tongue leaving a wet trail on her neck made the logistics seem unimportant. One strong hand slid inside her bra to tease an already hard nipple. The other found that magic spot that was wet with need. The firm press of his finger escalated the impending climax as his palm pulled her firmly against his thrusting hips.

Stacie pressed against Owen’s hand, moving in circular momentum that heightened the sensation. Thank Shakespeare the wall was there for leverage since her body became a mass she no longer had control over.

They’d made love enough times now that she knew Owen wasn’t close to his release. His stamina was amazing and she didn’t want him to stop, but the latex paint was cold and she longed feel his warm skin under her fingertips. Stacie managed to balance with one arm while the other reached over her shoulder, fingers skating through Owen’s thick hair. The press of his lips tingled across her neck, yet it still wasn’t enough. She wanted, needed more of him.

Stacie tilted her head enough so she was sure he could hear her whispered plea. “Kiss me.”

Owen’s hot skin burned through the fabric of the dress. Their tongues tangled in a sensuous dance. He was obviously as hungry to taste her as she was to taste him. And taste him she did. The lingering flavor of wine and salt mixed with Owen’s own unique taste, creating a heady combination that had her tongue sweeping across his, demanding more.

All the while, his hands kept busy, one still working between her legs, the other exploring, cupping her breasts, caressing her belly. The tingle flared under his touch as his fingers moved along the outside of her thigh, then up the inside, squeezing her flesh between his strong fingers.

Stacie’s labored gasps provided oxygen, but it was the passion that kept her alive more than the science of bringing oxygen into the lungs. Owen’s breaths were labored too, his pleasured groans a beautiful harmony with the moans she couldn’t suppress. Stacie wanted to hold out for the intensity of simultaneous orgasms, but she was so close, the release of all that pleasure ready to catapult her over the edge. Owen had the stamina of a marathon runner. When he broke from their kiss and leaned back, thrusting hard and fast, his hands holding firmly at her hips, she took the leap and called out his name.

“Stacie,” Owen slurred, his deep voice and thick Cajun drawl vibrating like the rush of a train speeding by a flimsy structure.

“Owen,” she cried again, arms pushing against the wall, bracing against his thrusts. She continued to cry out, a string of sounds that couldn’t be classified as English.

He was right there, too, his grunts and groans amplified as the pulse of his orgasm intensified the pleasured wave she continued to ride. Owen pounded into her, riding out his release like a rogue locomotive. When Stacie’s bone structure failed and she practically collapsed, Owen held her upright until he was good and finished.

Stacie’s pleasured cries subsided as Owen’s movement slowed. When he finally went still, he pressed his body into hers, pushing her against the wall, as if he needed the leverage to remain upright as well.

After several minutes, when they were breathing instead of panting and Stacie felt the mass of bones pulling their weight, she ran one sexy heel up and down his leg, playing the stiletto along his skin. It was a silent thank you, a subtle way to let him know that even after what they’d just done, she still wanted more of him.

Owen moaned a little at the teasing attention, then finally withdrew and turned her around to face him. He pulled the dress down and kissed her, his hands cupping her breasts. When he finally pulled away, he looked up and down her body.

“I love this dress,” he drawled.

“It’s borrowed but I don’t think I’ll be giving it back,” she said, her smile speaking volumes to how fantastic that little adventure had been.

~~~

It rained all day Friday, the unusually sunny weather finally taking a rest. Avoiding the rain, Stacie listened to the rhythmic patter from the warmth of Owen’s bed. They made love from morning into the night. Stacie considered leaving a couple times, but since Owen insisted on driving her home, she opted to stay in his bed. When Friday turned into Saturday, Stacie had to make an exit to meet Jenny for a day of shopping. That would be followed up with a night out with Owen.

They planned to hit Funky Bella, the club where their sexy little fling kicked off. Not in the little black dress, he had instructed to Stacie’s amusement. Fortunately, Jenny had a date and wasn’t joining them at the club. Stacie was grateful for that, not ready for Owen to meet her best friend. That increased the chances of him discovering where she lived, and she wasn’t ready to give up that information either.

“Baby, why don’t you pack an overnight bag so that you don’t have to disappear in the morning,” Owen suggested when she was ready to leave. “I have something special planned for tomorrow.”

Bad idea.

Stacie could see the escalation of such a simple thing. She’d start packing an overnight bag and next thing you know he’d be giving her a drawer. Before long, he’d ask her to move in. Then she’d be exactly where she didn’t want to be, living the life she had left behind. Of course, all that could be avoided by simply telling him she lived across the hall. But then she’d have to tell him that she lived across the hall. It was a no-win situation.

Stacie considered telling him that she didn’t want to spend tomorrow with him, but that’d be a lie. The thought of a special surprise intrigued her a little. It also scared her. A lot. Dating him was a bad idea. It would only propel her to get comfortable in another relationship and lose that sense of self as she had with Greg. Thank Gatsby Owen wasn’t Greg. He was far from boring, didn’t seem to be the least bit controlling, and didn’t wear khaki. Plus, he was a rock star in bed. No, he definitely wasn’t Greg. Spending time with him was something she did want to do.

The idea of not having to disappear in the morning to get a shower and fresh clothes sounded fantastic. Mostly because she wouldn’t have to leave the building and walk around the block before sneaking back into the building. She could dispense with that desperate hope that Owen didn’t happen to walk out of his condo while she made her way from the stairs to her place.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, a second cup of coffee in hand, Owen raised his brow as he patiently waited for Stacie’s response. Stacie held her position where the kitchen extended into the hallway to the front door. If she got too close to Owen, they might find themselves tangled up again. Not a horrible predicament, but she did have other plans.

“I don’t want to carry a bag to the club,” she finally said, using her special gift of non-committal.

“I’m heading to Bremerton for the day. I promised to help Bryan with some things.” He closed one eye, as if in a dilemma with the solution sitting in the pool of darkness behind his eyelid. “I can give you my spare key and you can drop your things off here before you go to the club.”

“Really?” she asked, surprised he’d trust her to be alone in his condo. Despite all the sex, they were still virtually strangers.

“You’re not going to rob me, are you?” he asked with a wink.

“I might.” Stacie cracked a smile. “Where do you keep the safe?”

Owen moved around the kitchen bar and opened a drawer, pulling out a single key on a small ring.

Stacie tried not to over think the gesture. It was just to drop off a bag. No big deal.

“So what do you have planned for tomorrow?” she asked, ignoring the voice of skepticism singing like a fat lady in her head.

“It’s a surprise.” His lips shaped into a curve of mischief, piquing Stacie’s curiosity.

“Then how do I know what to pack?”

“It doesn’t matter what you wear.” Owen held out the key.  When she took it, he pulled her into him, holding her tightly around the waist while his lips danced softly across hers. It was clear that he didn’t want her to leave. Stacie was pretty reluctant to go, too. She would not, however, ditch Jenny for sex. Not even the mind-blowing kind.

Stacie broke from their kiss first.

“Baby,” Owen pleaded, still holding her tightly.

“Jenny’s waiting for me. And you have a ferry to catch. If you continue to kiss me like that, we’ll be naked again before I can get out of here.”

“I can live with that,” Owen said, kissing her again.

The temptation almost overtook her, but the excitement of spending an afternoon with Jenny was the winning emotion. Between the nights with Owen and Jenny’s crazy work schedule, they’d hardly seen each other since Stacie arrived in Seattle. The pull to have some girl time caused Stacie to keep the kiss short this time. “I’ll see you tonight. Nine o’clock?”

“Yeah, baby, nine o’clock.”

~~~

An afternoon of shopping was exactly what Stacie needed. She was spending entirely too much time with Owen. When they were together, it wasn’t an issue. When she wasn’t with him, she longed to be, and that was the problem.

Today Stacie had planned to focus on a new wardrobe and have some quality girl time with her best friend. Jenny, a self-proclaimed die-hard romantic, preferred a true story over fiction any day and urged Stacie for details of the last couple nights.

“You probably don’t want the dress back,” Stacie suggested after detailing that scrumptious escapade.

“Ty bought me that dress,” Jenny said. The eye roll and lip curl compounded the annoyance in her voice, something Stacie was quickly learning were natural fixtures when Jenny referred to the ex-fiancé she’d left behind in Boston. “I should have gotten rid of it a long time ago. It’s all yours.”

“What about the shoes?” she asked, hoping Jenny was just as willing to give those up.

“Keep ’em. So what are we looking for here?” Jenny asked as they walked into Nordstrom Rack. Another thing Stacie realized was that Jenny was as quick to avoid any discussion about Ty as Stacie was about Greg. Of course, Ty was a catch and he and Jenny had been crazy about each other, so Stacie didn’t understand the breakup or the lingering animosity two years later. If she asked, though, she’d be forced to talk about the break up with Greg, so it was best to put a lid on the curiosity. Self-preservation was a wondrous thing.