Sagittarius Saves Libra (Signs of Love)

Jason grinned back at him. “I’m afraid there’s more where that all came from.”

Owen leaned forward, whispering, “I can’t wait.” He slipped one of his hands up Jason’s back and squeezed his nape, his fingertips pressing into the base of his scalp, pushing him closer. Their noses bumped. “What do you want to tell me, Jason?”

“I-I’m kind of nervous.”

“That’s okay. Take all the time you need.”

Slowly, shudderingly, he released his breath. “It’s . . . it’s about . . .”

“Cora?”

Jason blinked. Owen knew?

“Something upset you today. You’ve been frowning all evening, and your music was incredible, but also incredibly sad.”

“All those deduction skills. You must be a really good cop.”

“You’re stonewalling.”

“There you go, proving my point.”

“Jason . . .”

Jason let out a breathy laugh that turned into a sigh at its peak. “I promised I wouldn’t tell anybody, but it’s so much on my chest.”

Owen hummed. “You were worried last night with Patricia, but the way you look at her and the way you look at Cora . . .” Owen focused on him, puzzle pieces coming together. A probable conclusion filling his eyes.

Jason blinked back the sting in his eyes. Nodded. “Yes.”

“And Patricia?”

“Only wanted to have one of us.”

Owen breathed in Jason’s shuddered exhale. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m . . . not. I’m not angry or hurt. Cora was fifteen, she did what she thought was best. I had a great mum and dad. I never missed . . . But I was curious what might have been. I am curious. That word again.” He laughed, a tear spilling. “I’m a cat. Let’s hope it doesn’t kill me.”

Owen thumbed the tear over his cheekbone. “It’s okay to be curious.”

“Is it? I’m curious about all sorts of things, Owen.” He laughed at himself again. Owen caught his chin and drew his attention to dark eyes.

“That’s okay too.”

“Even if I’m achy and restless?” His ears were undoubtedly turning pink. “Even if I want to . . . I mean, only if you want to. I understand if you think this complicates things.”

“They’re already complicated.”

Jason laughed. He’d made a mess, all right. “In two weeks this will all be over.”

Owen looked . . . unconvinced.

“You’re right.” Jason sagged against him and tucked himself close with a wee laugh that he hoped didn’t show his disappointment. “Anything more might be too much.”

Owen lifted Jason off his lap and steered him out of the house.

“What?” Jason asked. “Have I reached your limit again?”

“Surpassed it.”

“Um, but you’re steering me to your place?”

“Yes. You’re sleeping with me.”

“Or Mary and the guestroom will be fine.”

“No,” Owen said, “I’m not being clear.” He crowded against Jason’s back, a wall of heat in the cool evening. He reached around him to unlock his door. A whisper combed Jason’s ear. “You’re not sleeping with me.” A gentle smack on his arse had Jason stepping over the threshold and spinning around. Owen collided with him, a wave of purpose and knee-buckling intention. “You’re sleeping under me.”

Chapter Twelve

Owen didn’t let any second thoughts come between them and Jason came to life, one breath shock, the next all warmth. He drew back an inch, searched Owen’s fiery brown eyes, and then cupped his nape, steering those soft, insistent lips back to his.

Steady, guiding hands urged Jason against the wall. Owen kicked off his shoes and prowled Jason down the hall. There was something fresh about the confidence with which Owen moved. Mary yipped, and Owen told her to stay in the lounge, a gentle command that promised he knew exactly where he wanted this to go, and how to get Jason there.

And Jason was definitely up for the ride.

Two giddying steps. Three.

Bedroom.

Dresser, mirror, shelves bathed in moonlight. Cool breezes wisped through an open window. Curtains aflutter. Like his heart.

The backs of his knees hit the side of the bed and gravity shot through him as he fell to the mattress.

Owen pushed his arms over thick cotton and rough stitching and clasped Jason’s wrists in one hand. Jason’s heart pounded and he made a noise, a broken syllable, possibly Owen’s name. Definitely a plea.

Owen stretched out over him, taut and hard, and Jason sucked in bergamot. Lavender. A raw moan, low and rumbly.

“Shoes off.”

Jason complied, a push of a heel against the bedframe, another against the back of Owen’s calf. Sneakers hit the floor.

Knees drove between his legs, swift and sure, pushing his thighs apart. Even with their pants on it was the most intense sexual moment of Jason’s life. Like their kisses, Owen made every electrical spark sing—and right now he was all sparks.

Jason arched up against that sweet, intense grind. “Oh my God, Owen.”

“Hmm?”

“Crazy intense.”

Nibbles down his throat.

“Owen, I’m serious.”

“Too much?”

Owen started to draw away and Jason lifted his legs to lock him in place. He stared into those dark eyes. “Why does it feel like this?”