I stepped into the elevator first. "You don't have to do this. Go have fun with your clan," I told him.
When I turned around, Owen's lips seared across my words. I heard my suitcase drop to the elevator floor as his hands encircled my waist. He smiled through the kiss, his lips moving across mine like warm honey. Our mouths opened just as the elevator stopped at another floor.
Owen stepped back just as four people joined us. We did not say another thing until we reached the door of my new room.
"Can I come in?" he asked.
I nodded and opened the door. He came inside and shut the door behind him, then caught my waist. He pulled me against him as he leaned back on the door and our lips met again. I was off-balance, dizzy, and pressed against his body for support. Everywhere we touched, heat ignited.
His hands brushed back my loose hair, his fingertips tickling my neck. I gasped against his kiss and felt him smile again. He kept the sensation going as his fingers trailed down my bare shoulders. I gasped again, and this time, his warm tongue traced my bottom lip.
I moved up on my tiptoes to answer his exploration, and the friction between our bodies pulled a low groan from him. Owen's hands slipped to my waist, and he pressed me hard against him.
"Not enough," he whispered against my lips. "Not enough."
He stood up and bent me back, his kiss devouring me. I opened to him, hungry for his delving tongue. My fingers found the open buttons at his neck and pulled his shirt open. Underneath, his neck was hot, his skin burning to be touched.
Owen held me as he pushed us farther into the room and shed his coat. Our lips did not stop and neither did my fingers until I had stripped him of his shirt. He arched against the feel of my hands on his bare stomach and chest, his agate-blue eyes ablaze. I ran my fingertips up to his shoulders and down his arms, leading his hands to the straps of my tank top.
He peeled it down to my waist, his lips meeting mine again as he reached for the hook of my bra. I reached for the beaded necklaces, but he stopped me, his voice ragged against my lips.
"Leave them. Just them," he said. His hands dropped to the button of my jeans. He undid them and slid his hands around to the back of my waist, dropping lower as his pulled my jeans off. They dropped to the floor, and I stepped out of them.
The moment away from his body was too long, and I pulled him close again. I felt him hard through the fabric of his suit pants, and the heavy contour melted something deep inside me.
"More?" I asked, the back of my knees meeting the edge of the bed.
Owen nodded, taking off his pants. I lay back on the bed and he slipped up and over me, the heat of his body and our desire making me arch towards him. His lips crushed against me and I opened to him. As his tongue slid against mine, his hand mimicked the intoxicating friction between my legs.
I dragged my hand down his wide shoulder, across the tense hold of his arm, to where his fingers swept in small, pulsing circles. When he felt my hand press his wrist, he slipped inside my panties and pressed into me.
I arched against the exquisite pressure. His lips left mine and he panted against my neck, the sweet motion driving him harder as I melted against his touch.
I pressed up against him, pulling myself free of my panties, leaving nothing between us. Owen kissed me again, breathing words of ecstasy as he pushed inside me. I cried out at the sudden and shattering pleasure that pulsed through me and around him. He held firm until my shockwaves subsided, then rocked gently with them.
The rhythm built, his hands cupping my cheeks, his blue eyes awash like the sea. Owen looked down at me, our eyes locked together as he surged into me, a crashing wave of pure bliss.
Chapter Ten
Quinn
The rest of the tournament weekend passed in a neon-lighted blur. I assumed that was the way many weekends there ended up for the tourists all around me. I just felt like I was in a different world.
When Owen and I woke up together in the same bed, we laughed. And then, we did not talk about it again. Even on the nearly four-hour trip back to UCLA, we never mentioned it once.
"Do you like living in L.A.?" Owen asked after one particularly long pause.
"Yeah, but sometimes I wonder if I would like anywhere that gave a buffer between me and my parents," I said. "How about you? You still live in the same town you grew up in and your parents are just down the street like mine."
"When they're in town," Owen said. "My parents are different."
The Redds had money, and not the kind families got from high-powered careers. They had inherited money, old money, and it seemed to be a self-replenishing supply. Every year, Owen's parents made a big show of offering him a yearly stipend, which he immediately turned down. Then, they flew off to another jet-set location and it would be months until they appeared in Nevada again.
"Haven't you ever been tempted to be like your parents?" I asked. "It would put you in the same position as Anya." The words soured even as they came out of my mouth.
Owen scrubbed at his stubbled chin. "I've never been tempted because that's not what I want. It’s not really what they want for me, either. My parents are happy that I want to be my own man. Sometimes, when I think about taking a desk job or some other conventional thing, I hear their voices in my head telling me life's too short to go any way but my way."
I sighed. "That sounds like a luxury to me."