The Sound of Consequence (Puget Sound ~ Alive With Love Book 1) (17 page)

“I was kissing you,” Owen
yelled as he raced out the emergency exit behind Stacie. “Normally you like it.”

“Yeah, and usually you’re not doing it in a jealous rage.”

In a pace that bordered on desperation, Stacie followed the alley to the front of the building. The panic Owen had seen the other night, when she was on the phone with her friend, flickered across her eyes as she looked up and down the street. Her breathing was labored, short breaths confirming her anxiety.

Owen recognized the symptoms. Post traumatic stress was a stigma too many soldiers tried to hide during and after deployment. He’d never been on the front lines, but some of his brothers had survived some pretty horrific battles.

Awash the regret of his possessive behavior and the anger that pumped through his veins like lava, Owen wondered what had happened to Stacie to cause such distress now.

Taking a few deep breaths to focus on what she needed rather than what he wanted to demand from her, Owen rested his hands at her waist. “I’m not in a jealous rage,” he said calmly. Jealous? Definitely. Rage? Not even close. It wouldn’t take much to make the leap, though.

Stacie spun around and stepped out of his hold. With hands on her hips and eyes narrowed and dark, the anger poured out of her like a rushing waterfall. “No? Then what do you call that display in there? If you were a peacock, your feathers would be fanned wide open.”

“He was hitting on you.” Nothing like stating the obvious, but it was the best reason he had to explain that he had every right to ruffle his feathers.

“So!”

“So, you’re here with me. He needed to know that.”

Stacie rolled her eyes, which frustrated Owen. He debated whether to bring up the panicked expression. Something had happened to her. He knew it. That’s why she didn’t talk about her past or that phone call the other night. That’s why she was always running from him.

“I had everything under control, Owen. If you’d given me another thirty seconds, I would’ve been back at the table.”

“Another thirty seconds and he would’ve had more than just his hand on you.”

“You don’t know that,” Stacie sighed.

“Stacie, baby, you were the hottest woman in there. Every guy checked you out at least once. I should’ve clocked a couple of ’em for the way they looked at you. And that douche bag with the trendy BCGs is lucky he’s not eating a fist sandwich or seeing little birdies.”

Stacie crossed her arms. “Are you always this violent when you get jealous?”

“
Thinking
about hitting a couple guys is far from violent.” Owen knew what violent felt like. He’d been there, done that when he caught his wi- ex-wife - in bed with another guy.

“You just slammed that guy against the wall.”

Slammed seemed a bit exaggerated. “He pushed me first. I was just rightfully defending what’s mine.”

“What’s yours?” The anger that had started to subside returned in a fresh wave.

This was an argument Owen couldn’t win and he just needed to keep his damn trap shut. But silence had never served him well in the past. He stood by, quietly, watching Kristina plant the seeds of betrayal. The consequences had cost him his career. And his heart. He wouldn’t make those same mistakes again.

“Stacie, you’re here with me. I was well within my rights to put that guy in his place for laying a hand on my girl.”

Stacie opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, then closed it, pursing her lips and shaking her head.

“Baby, why are you in such a panic?” Owen decided this was his best attempt to neutralize the situation.

“Why are you?”

He sighed. Should he tell her about the mind-fuck Kristina had given him? Would she run? Or maybe she would see his perspective. Then he’d have leverage to get her to talk.

“My last, huh, ex-wife,” he corrected, not ready to invite Daphne to the party. “Kristina, she used to flirt with other men. All the time, right in front of me.”

“I wasn’t flirting with him.”

What about the bartender? Owen wasn’t sure it was in his best interest to accuse Stacie of anything and when she dropped her arms, he knew he was getting through to her.

“After I caught her in bed with that guy, I heard rumors that there had been other men. When I confronted her, she just laughed at me. She played me for a fool.”

Stacie’s shoulders dropped. “And you think that’s what I’m doing?”

“No. You’re nothing like Kris. It’s just that I can’t help being a little protective.”

“I’m not with anyone else,” she said. “And I don’t want to be. But you know where I stand with us, Owen.”

Owen knew what she’d said, but he didn’t believe that’s where she stood. He smiled. “Could you at least pretend when we’re out like this that it’s not just about sex?”

“You mean pretend to be your girlfriend?”

Owen smiled and even though Stacie rolled her eyes, he could see she was starting to relax. He closed the distance between them and clutched her arms. “Now tell me, why were you in such a panic?”

Stacie’s eyes darted around like she was searching for an answer. After taking a breath so deep she could have drained the city of all its air, she smiled and splayed her hands on his chest. “I’m all done dancing. Unless it’s in your bed and we’re both naked.”

It was hard not to take the bait. Naked was exactly where he wanted to be and with the warmth of her touch spreading through his body and inspiring his cock to life, he had to muster all of his will not to take her right there against the brick wall. Sex, as amazing as it was, wasn’t going to get them anywhere.

Owen remembered the look on her face when the douche bag grabbed her arm. It was fear. He’d seen the same look on his mother’s face countless times, just before his father smacked her. “Did someone hurt you?”

“What? No, of course not.” She rubbed her arm, briefly, then clasped her hands together as if forcing herself to forget whatever was haunting her.

“You’re always running from me. What are you afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid of anything.” A cab pulled up next to them and Stacie reached for the door. “Are we going back to your place or am I going home?”

Owen held the cab door closed. “Your things are at my place.”

“I don’t need them.”

“No, but I need you.”

The cabbie put down the window. “You gettin’ in or not?”

Owen eased his hand over Stacie’s and gently tugged the handle to open the door. He wasn’t going to let her run. At some point, he was going to break through the wall she kept retreating behind and find out what she was hiding. Then maybe she’d be willing to commit to something more than this casual arrangement.

~~~

Stacie couldn’t explain the panic. It had hit her like a flash flood, unexpected and unwelcome, leaving her drenched with anxiety. Somehow, having Owen close was a comfort, even after his ridiculous caveman display in the club.

The smartest thing she could do was walk away, but as he slid into the cab beside her, his arm around her shoulder awakened the tingle she always felt when he was near. His spicy scent was like a drug as it filled her nose, relaxing every muscle in her body and calming the panic in her mind.

She’d never used drugs, not even once. Seeing her younger sister Nichole suffer with addictions, Stacie had tried to be sympathetic and supportive, but it was never something she could understand. Now, though, melting into Owen’s arms and craving his naked body, she realized she needed a fix. And not just once. He was a drug she couldn’t seem to get enough of.

The adrenaline rush she felt from dancing with him at the club returned. Before she realized it, her hand was wandering up his thigh to the place where his button fly was tight. She knew from their time together that when he wore 501’s, he didn’t wear anything underneath and that thought ignited her fever.

“How bad do you need me?” she whispered.

Owen groaned. “I think you know.”

He squinted one eye, his eye brow raising in a curious glance.

“What’s that look?” she asked.

“I’m wondering how many times I can make you come before I do.”

Owen’s dark eyes and thick drawl made those words incredibly erotic. Eager to get him alone, Stacie wished the cab had teleporting technology. When it finally arrived at their building, Owen overpaid the cabbie and they scurried inside. The elevator seemed stalled on the eighth floor, so Stacie headed to the stairs with Owen fast on her heels. He caught her between the second and third floors and pinned her against the wall.

His body was a solid mass of heat and muscle, his lips demanding as he showed no mercy with his kiss. In the work of a moment, his hand slid under her shirt, releasing the clip on the front closing bra. Then his mouth moved down her neck to the hot tip of her breast.

“Owen” she gasped, wrapping her hands around his neck, pulling him closer. He paused for a second, and she bolted up the stairs again, laughing as she heard him groan from the landing below.

Just shy of the fifth floor, Owen grabbed her belt, trying to release it from its tight hold around her waist.

“Fifth floor,” she panted, clapping the sign. Owen lifted her off the step and wrapped her legs around his waist. In the back pocket of her jeans he found the spare key to his condo.

Once inside, they kicked off their shoes before Owen eased her down on the carpet just inside the door. He opened her jeans and with a swift tug of the pant legs, they were gone. A smile lifted his sexy lips as he peered at the red lace panties. Then they were gone, landing in the same heap. His jeans joined the pile and Owen sighed as though relieved to be free from the confines of denim.

When his shirt came off, he nearly dropped on top of Stacie. She was more than ready for him as he slid inside her. His slow glide filled and stretched her, a glorious pleasure that nearly had her begging for more. Then she realized he hadn’t grabbed a condom. He must have recognized the tension because he stopped suddenly and after a moment’s pause, withdrew from her depths and stood.

Owen lifted her to him and carried her to the bed. Stacie removed her shirt and bra as Owen pulled a condom out of the drawer. Once again, he slipped it on with lightning speed.

Apparently, the dance floor teasing and heated cab ride home provided more than enough foreplay because he was inside her for mere seconds when his release exploded. Stacie was surprised given his stamina, but it didn’t matter because she was right there with him.

It was still difficult to catch her breath. The rush in those seconds was filled with an urgent need that swept them both up in a crazy storm.

When her breathing finally leveled out, she smiled against the sexy scratch of his beard. “Once,” she said.

“Huh?”

“You made me come once before you did.”

Owen laughed. “Guess it was my need to mark you.” He probably intended that to be funny given the humorous tone, but for Stacie it was a jolt back to reality. She wriggled to get out from under his body and grabbed her shirt and bra as she headed for the remaining heap in the hall.

“Where are you going?” It was no surprise that he followed. This was their thing. They made love. Stacie tried to leave. He convinced her otherwise.

“I should go.” Her usual answer.

“Why?” His usual follow up.

But whenever she responded, she always ended up staying. So this time she said nothing.

“Stacie, baby, we have plans tomorrow. You have an overnight bag. There’s no reason for you to go.”

“I agreed to stay before you had a jealous tantrum.”

“Most women would be flattered that their guy came to their rescue.”

“Owen,” she sighed. “I like you and I don’t want to hurt you. You need to remember, though, that you’re not my guy. And I’m not your girl.”

“Is that why you were in such a panic? Because I zeroed in on you flirting with that guy?”

“First of all,
I
wasn’t flirting. Second, I wasn’t in a panic.” This was mostly true. She didn’t even know how to flirt. The guy came on to her and she dealt with him like he was a teenage boy in one of her English classes. Her polite yet firm teacher demeanor still came in handy. Of course, the second part wasn’t true. She had been in a panic. Because she couldn’t explain why, denial was easier.

“Yeah, you were baby. That guy grabbed your arm and I saw terror on your face. Did your last boyfriend,” Owen paused and closed his eyes as though even thinking about the possibilities were painful. “Lay a hand on you like that?”

“I already told you no.” In spite of her answer, Stacie had doubts. She rubbed at her forearm where the guy at the club had grabbed hold. The visions of Greg’s hand flying through the air was terrifying, but she had no memories of anything terrible. In ten years, Greg had never been aggressive. Passive aggressive, yes, but not physically aggressive. That’s what made the vision and that foreboding feeling so confusing.

Owen ran the back of his fingers along her arm. The gentle caress didn’t trigger another of those flashbacks, but it stirred a rush of emotions she wasn’t willing to acknowledge. If she ignored the longing in her heart long enough, it would simply go away.