Four Years Later (One Week Girlfriend 4)

It’s sensory overload.

He leans more into me, his arm braced around my shoulders, fingers slipping beneath my bared bra strap and caressing my shoulder. I reach out and rest my hands on his chest, feel his rapidly beating heart beneath my palm, and a thrill runs through me.

Owen seems as affected by this kiss as I am. The realization is heady, powerful.

Exciting.

He breaks the kiss first, pressing his forehead to mine, then nuzzling my nose. “This is really uncomfortable, sitting on top of my car, trying to kiss you,” he admits.

I laugh, opening my eyes to see him smiling at me. “Wasn’t this your suggestion?”

“Yeah …” His expression is pained, and I wonder why.

“Let’s go back inside the car, then.”

“You want to go home?” He almost looks devastated.

Slowly shaking my head, feeling bold, I lean in and press my lips to his, letting them linger for a long, warm moment before I pull away. “No,” I whisper.

His eyes light with a hunger I’ve never seen before and then we’re scrambling off the top of the car, Owen jumping down first before he reaches out, his big hands slipping beneath my sweater and grasping hold of my waist as he helps me get onto solid ground. He goes for the back door on the driver’s side and throws it open, indicating he wants me to get in first. I do so, giggling when he slides in behind me, his hands reaching for me, curling around my waist again before he brings me to him, over him, until I’m straddling him with my knees on either side of his hips, sitting on top of him in the most wicked, delicious way.

I can feel him, everywhere. Hovering above him, I stare down at his beautiful face, drink him in, touch him however I want. Wherever I want. I smooth his hair away from his forehead, letting the soft strands sift through my fingers, and he closes his eyes, a low, masculine sound of pleasure escaping him.

I feel that sound pulse throughout my body, settling between my legs, and I press into him, my mouth meeting his, our kiss becoming deep. Deeper. Our tongues slide against each other, our bodies rock, and he grips my waist, stilling me, keeping me in place.

But I don’t want to be kept in place. I feel restless, needy. I want more. More Owen, more of his mouth, more of his hands, more of his tongue. He breaks our kiss to feather his lips across my jaw, down my throat, his tongue darting out to lick, and I clutch him close. My arms wrap around his neck, and I close my eyes as I tilt my head back.

We’re taking it from zero to one hundred between us and I don’t even care. I’ve already thrown caution out the window.

All I want is Owen.

Owen

It’s getting out of control and quick between us. I’d wanted to keep it outside on purpose, for fear I’d get in over my head and want to get Chelsea naked. I had a sense it would be good between us the moment our lips first touched. But I had no idea she would be so incredibly responsive, so eager, feel so f**king right in my arms. I hold her close but not too close, my fingers pressing into the soft skin just above her hips, trying my best to keep her still as I map a path of fire down her neck with my lips.

I lick, I nibble, I taste. My c**k is painfully hard beneath the button fly of my jeans and it would be so easy. Easy to strip her of her clothes, touch her in all the right places, show her how to touch me in all the right places and then f**k her right here in the backseat of my car.

So. Freaking. Easy.

But I don’t do any of that. I’m not going to push. She’s totally inexperienced—I can tell just by her at first tentative kiss, how nervous she got, how nervous she’s always been with me. I gotta take it slow for her sake. Gotta remember that before I let myself lose complete control and I get busy corrupting her for the rest of the night.

Breaking our kiss, I lean my head back against the seat, staring up at her. She’s beautiful, her lips swollen from our kisses, her wavy hair in complete sexy disarray around her face, all from my fingers. Her chest rises and falls at a rapid pace and it would be so easy to slip my hands beneath her loose sweater and feel her. Cup her. Thumb her ni**les, make them hard before I draw one into my mouth …

Inhaling sharply, I push those thoughts out of my head. My overly vivid imagination is definitely not helping matters.

“Owen.” Her voice sounds needy, edgy, and I know what she wants. I want it, too. “What are you doing?”

But I’m not going to give it to her. Not tonight.

“I should get you home.” I thread my fingers through her hair, brushing them through the long, dark strands again and again. She slowly closes her eyes, her lush mouth parted, a shuddery little breath escaping her that I feel all the way down to my dick.

“Maybe I don’t want to go home,” she admits.

“We need to get you home.” The disappointment on her face is clear and I decide to be honest with her. “I’m not going to f**k you in the backseat of my car, Chels. You deserve better than that.” For your first time, I want to say but don’t.

What if I’m wrong that she’s a virgin? I don’t think I am. She acts like a girl who has zero experience and for once, I’m okay with that. The mere idea of Chelsea being with another guy fills me with pure, white-hot rage. I can’t stand the thought.

Since when did I turn into such a possessive caveman? Ready to beat my chest with my fists and declare Chelsea as mine. She belongs to no one else.

And I never feel that way about any girl.

Her gaze softens and she leans down, kissing me once. Twice, her lips lingering. Like she never wants this to end. I feel the same way. “Okay.” She sounds sad. Defeated. And I hate that.

“Hey.” I catch her chin, keeping her face close to mine. Her breath flutters across my lips, smelling wintergreen fresh from the mints we grabbed before we left the restaurant. I close my eyes for a brief moment, searching for the strength I’m gonna need to be able to resist her.

Because really, I’d rather do nothing but f**k her in the backseat of my car. I have no problem with that whatsoever.

I open my eyes to find her studying me as she licks her lips, her expression hopeful, frustrated … beautiful.

Fuck, I like this girl. A lot. How am I going to keep her in my life? Will she be able to stand me once everything gets all crazy again? I barely have time for myself, let alone someone else.

“I’m going to be busy,” I say, letting my thumb drift across her chin. “Once I get back on the football team, my schedule is gonna go to hell. And with work and school, it’ll be crazy.”