I rub my forehead and step to the left so I’m in front of the bathroom door. I shuck off my shirt and toss it on the ground. I turn the knob and steal one last look at the object of my intoxication.
She’s whiskey, neat. Even chilled, frozen to the core, it does nothing to lessen to the burn gliding over my skin.
We share one last look before I disappear into the bathroom and let out a long exhale. Reaching into the shower, I turn the knob and the hot water spews from the head immediately. My jeans hit the floor in a wet plop, and I step out of them, along with my shoes and socks. Damn it, my blood is on fire for her. “Fuck.” I grip the edge of the sink and hang my head, squeezing the cheap counter with—almost—everything ounce of strength I have.
Tilting my chin up, I evaluate my reflection in the mirror and wonder what kind of man I’ve become. Do I deserve her? What have I truly done to prove myself? If Annabeth were to see me now, she wouldn’t be proud of me, not with how I lost it, and now Heaven has a shard of glass through his chest.
He might die because of my inability to protect the ones I love.
The mirror fogs, cloaking the broken face of a man who seems to have lost himself, but only finds himself when he’s in the arms of the woman he loves.
I never thought my past would repeat itself, but here it is.
Turning away, I pull the curtain back and step inside the shower, letting the water flow over my head and down my body. I groan when the hot water pellets against my shoulders. I stand there, letting the cold wash away from my skin and down the drain. I shut my eyes and try to think about something else.
Something else that isn’t Heaven.
Something else that isn’t Jolie.
But life is a bitch, and she loves to drive me insane.
I wonder what Annabeth would say to me right now. She’d probably say something reassuring, supportive, and kind. I still wonder why she believed in me because I don’t understand. I have no idea how I earned her heart or how Jolie gave hers to me. I don’t get it.
I want to understand, but I don’t think I ever will have the answers I desperately seek.
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Trembling hands roam around my waist, and my eyes pop open thinking maybe someone has snuck into our room, knocked Jolie out, and for some reason is about to kill me.
I hate the way my mind works sometimes.
“Owen.”
Jolie’s voice has every muscle tensing. I stare at the far wall and debate a few things. Either I’m dreaming and life decided to throw me a bone, or I’m dreaming and life is about to figure out how to be a bitch.
Or.
Jolie is actually here. Her hands are on me. Her breasts are pushed against my back.
Which means she’s naked.
I move my feet to the side to help me turn around and when I see her, her hands roam to my chest. Her hair is wet from the water and the droplets sensually dripping down her neck make me thirsty. My eyes stay locked on her face. She’s gorgeous, she’s nervous, and she’s mine. “Jolie, what are you doing?” It takes all I have not to look at her body. Even knowing she’s naked, my cock has sprung to life, and I want her more than my next breath, but maybe she’s in here for another reason. If it’s just to be close, I’ll love that too. “There’s no pressure, Jolie.”
“Do you want me, Owen?”
“Do I…” I say in disbelief and lean my forehead against her. “Do I want you? Look down, babe. You’ll see how much I want you.” I keep my eyes closed to stop myself from admiring her.
Her hand wraps around my cock and squeezes.
I gasp and snap my eyes open, meeting her lust-filled green eyes. “We don’t,” I groan when she jerks me again. “We don’t have to. There’s no pressure, babe. None. Fuck,” I toss my head back when she quickens her pace and tightens her fist. “Jolie.”
“Look at me, please. You never look at me,” she begs, and I tilt my chin to my chest, debating … fucking debating if I should do this. If I do, how do I stop myself from touching her?
“I don’t…” I swallow when my sack pulls to my body, and the base of my spine tingles as my orgasm threatens. “I don’t look not because I don’t want to, but because I want to respect you. I never want you…” My eyes roll to the back of my head when her hand cups my sack. “I never want you to feel pressured.”
“Thank you for that, but I want you, Owen. I want to know what it’s like.”
I fall forward and brace my arms on either side of her head and hover my lips above hers. “What, what’s like?” My voice breaks as I hold my orgasm at bay. It’s been so long since someone else has touched me in the way she is.