But until then…I turn and bring one leg up, hooking it over Owen’s.
Motherfucker. This is bad. Really bad. But holy shit does it feel good.* * *
My alarm wakes us both, and I sit up, untangling myself from Owen’s arms to silence it. Groaning, Owen rolls back over and kicks the blankets off his body.
“Do you have to get up already?”
“Yeah, I do.” I run my hands through my messy hair. The sun is up now, and the room is full of bright light. I swallow hard and fight my urge to admire every ridge of muscle and every pound of flesh that makes up Owen’s body. I set my phone down on the nightstand. “Thank you, Owen, for last night.”
“I didn’t even do anything.” He rolls over, propping his head up with his arm. “But if you have a few minutes, I can do something you’ll thank me for.”
I know he can.
“I’ll pass.”
“Your loss.”
Dammit, he’s right.
“Really, though,” I start and get out of bed. I’m wearing a tank top and sleeper shorts. It’s comfy, a little revealing I suppose, and might be sexy if it wasn’t covered in smiling avocados with little stick arms and legs. These might have been marketed for teen girls, but I thought they were way too cute to pass up. “Thanks. For letting me bring Tulip and then for, uh, holding me like a child during the storm.”
Owen smiles. “You’re welcome. And you can leave the cat here. She’s quiet and can’t really get into anything with that cast on. It won’t bother me at all, and she won’t be tormented by the dogs over here.”
“You really don’t mind?”
He shakes his head. “Does she need medication or anything?”
“Yeah, but I’ll give it to her before I leave and then again when I get off work. You sure you don’t mind?”
Owen’s smile widens. “Not at all. And it gives you a reason to come back over, so I see it as a win for me. Now only if it’ll storm again,” he laughs.
Laughing too, I shake my head. “Dinner was nice. Playing a game was nice.”
“Nice enough to do again?”
I should say no. I know I’m weak right now and fighting temptation. An alcoholic shouldn’t go to a bar. A gambler should stay out of a casino.
And I should stay far, far away from Owen Dawson.
“We’ll see,” I tell him and let out a breath as I turn, grabbing my bag and going into the bathroom to shower and get dressed. Forgoing washing my hair, I twist it into a bun on the top of my head and get in the shower.
I wash up quickly and then get out, wrapping myself in the towel. Pausing by the door, I listen to see if Owen is still in the bedroom. I don’t hear anything, but that doesn’t mean he’s not in bed sleeping again. I get dressed, pull my hair into a sleek bun, and put on just enough makeup to look put together.
Owen isn’t in the bed when I step out of the bathroom. The bed has been made, which surprises me for some reason. I set my bag on the foot of the bed and look around for Tulip. The bedroom door is open, and while she can hobble around just fine, I do worry about her on the stairs.
Going into the hall, the smell of coffee and bacon hits me, making my stomach grumble. I find Owen in the kitchen, still only wearing boxers and making breakfast. Tulip is sitting on a folded blanket on the floor by him, eating little crumbled pieces of bacon.
“You still like creamer with a splash of coffee, right?” Owen asks, opening a cabinet to get a coffee mug.
“I need two splashes now. I’m old and need the caffeine.”
Smiling, I take the mug from Owen and go to the coffee pot. “What about you? You used to not even like the taste of coffee before.”
“I still don’t. I guess I’m old too. I need caffeine just as much as you do.”
I fill my mug halfway and then go to the fridge to get the creamer. Owen has caramel-flavored creamer, which will do just fine. I go to the table and sit, sipping my coffee.
“Hungry?” he asks, turning around with a plate filled with toast, eggs, and bacon.
“I usually don’t eat breakfast, but I’m not turning that down.”
“How do you not eat breakfast?” He sets the plate down and goes back to the stove, dishing up his own breakfast. “It’s the most important meal of the day. I’m starving when I wake up.”
“Mornings used to be busy for me. I’d get up, run, and then barely have time to shower and get ready for work. I used to put more effort into my appearance,” I admit. “Appearances meant a lot to the people at my old firm.”