You Own Me (Owned 1)

He was right, and I was too busy eating to argue. There was tofu, some type of seasoned meat, and I think seaweed. I usually shied away from seaweed but in this soup it tasted divine. I scarfed the whole serving down in minutes. I stared at my empty bowl in surprise when my spoon came up empty. Never Have I Ever . . . finished an entire helping of soup. Not that I don't like soup, but soup is hard to finish. It's so much liquid to fit in your gut.

Vic interrupted my bemusement. “There is plenty more.”

I patted my stomach and smiled. “I'm stuffed.”

Vic clapped his hands together. “Good! I'm going to put the food away and you're going to go to bed. It's late.”

I’ve noticed that he does the hand-clapping gesture when he wants to get attention and simultaneously end something. Has that always been a quirk of his, or is it a new habit?

Vic started to stand up, reaching for the TV tray. I grabbed his wrist.

Oh, shit, what was I doing? I had new energy from the meal and emotions were bubbling up inside me, the traitorous things. I had to say something to him.

He was taking care of me, he was being protective, he was being sweet to me. Vic was acting like he wanted me. More than a friend.

Vic stared at my hand on his wrist, nonplussed. Clearly, he was waiting for me to do or say something. I was waiting for the same thing. My brain had spazzed out. It must have been the concussion. We were friends! Not lovers. Never lovers.

“Why are you doing this?” I blurted out. Oh shit, here it goes. The boulder is tumbling down the hill, out of control. I've lost it and it's not coming back.

“You got hurt on my property.” Vic sat back down, gearing up for a conversation with me.

My stomach sank. “So that's it? I'm an obligation.”

Vic's face closed off. “Exactly.”

“Really, Vic? That's all this is to you?” I was going for it, emotions be damned. Dean be damned. He didn't factor in this. This was me and Vic. No, but really, Dean be damned to hell. A fiery hell. A spot next to Sisyphus, preferably. “You don't feel anything else?” I crawled across the bed to him, placing myself near his lap. I heard him suck in his breath. That's something right?

I wasn't wearing the sexiest clothes. When I passed out, Vic dressed me in one of his shirts. It was big on me, falling just above my bum. I know sometimes guys can think that's sexy, but, honestly, I just felt gross. Like when I was sick and wore my big clothes because I wanted to be comfy. I wasn't wearing sexy underwear. I hadn't packed any sexy underwear. I was wearing my hipster, cotton panties. No lace in sight. This trip was supposed to be about friendship and powwows, not sexy underwear. Oh, how quickly things can change. Still! I'm going to make this work for me. My underwear shows off my bum at least, so, there's that.

“Lenny...” Vic looked away from me.

“I can't be the only one that feels this.” I inched closer to him, ignoring the pounding in my skull. “Don't you want this?”

“I do.” Vic snapped his head back to me, his eyes glowing with some indeterminate emotion.

I felt it again, that magnetic pull. I couldn't look away from him; I couldn't stop my body fr

om moving toward him. Vic put his hand out toward me, placing it on my stomach. He was trying to push me away, but I grabbed his hand and moved closer.

It's a good thing I already decided not to give up, because he was seriously trying to reject me. But I saw it. I saw that glimmer of want in his eyes and I was going to pull it out of him even if it was as hard as pulling teeth.

Super romantic.

“Vic.” I moved onto him, straddling his lap. I could feel him grow hard beneath me.

He reached up and stroked my face. I leaned my face into his palm.

“We can't do this, babe,” Vic said, his eyes growing sad.

“Why?” I asked, shifting, feeling his growing length. Wow, that feels good.

Vic closed his eyes, his jaw clenched, and his face grew deliciously erotic.

I shifted again, trying to get more of that sexy face. Vic placed his hands on my hips and held me in a vice grip. “Stop,” he said, his voice hard as nails. He sounded strained, like his entire body was being pulled apart.

I tried to move again. It was impossible, he had me completely at his mercy, and right now he wanted me to stay still. This was so not working. I stopped trying to move and just held still. He released his grip a little bit, clearly thinking he'd won.

An idea came to me, completely irrational and at the same time (maybe) brilliant. Without giving him time to react I pulled the shirt up over my head, baring myself completely.