“Nobody’s parents are perfect,” Owen pointed out. “Mine certainly weren’t, especially not my dad with his gambling problems.”

   “I know.” I sighed. “But I always thought that my mom was this good person, this great woman. She always seemed so kind, caring, and strong. So much better than me. I know that I don’t have any right to judge her, not given all the terrible things that I’ve done. But now to realize that she was involved with the Circle, that she probably did a lot of bad things, either on their orders or of her own free will . . . I don’t know what to think about that. I don’t know what to feel about that.”

   Owen pulled me into his arms, so that my head was resting on his shoulder, and pressed a kiss to my temple. “I know,” he whispered. “I know.”

   He held me like that for a long time, both of us lost in our own troubled thoughts about our parents.

   But eventually, I grew sick of wondering and worrying about my mother, Tucker, and the Circle. I didn’t want to do that anymore. No, for the rest of this night, I wanted to focus on the one thing that I knew was true—my love for Owen and his for me.

   I propped myself up on one elbow, staring down at him. Moonlight slipped in through the crack in the white curtains, casting Owen’s face in shadow, except for the glitter of his violet eyes. I reached out and traced my fingers over the sharp planes of his face, dipping into all the shadows that the night created. He grabbed my hand and pressed a kiss to my palm, right in the center of my spider rune scar.

   Owen was only wearing black boxers, and he lay back against the pillows as I continued my slow, languid explorations, trailing my fingers down his bare chest, enjoying the feel of his warm, solid muscles. One spot right along his ribs was particularly sensitive, bunching and flexing under every flick of my fingers.

   “Why, Mr. Grayson,” I murmured, “I do believe that you’re a bit ticklish tonight.”

   “Me? Ticklish? Never.”

   He cleared his throat and pressed his lips together, as though holding back a laugh. That only made me concentrate on that one spot, lightly running my fingers over it again and again, staring at him the whole time.

   Finally, Owen gave in and started laughing, his whole chest shaking with his soft chuckles. I laughed with him, tickling him for another minute, before sliding my hand lower, dipping below the waistband of his boxers, and wrapping my fingers around his thick, hard length.

   His laughter vanished, replaced by sharp, ragged gasps as I started stroking him.

   “Is this ticklish too?” I teased.

   He slid his hand up underneath the soft T-shirt I was wearing and cupped my breast, rolling my nipple in his fingers. “Just as ticklish as this is.”

   The soft, warm desire that had been simmering in my veins flared hotter, and I rose up and stripped off my T-shirt and panties while he got rid of his boxers. Owen moved forward, flicking his tongue over my nipple before nipping at it with his teeth. I groaned, and he drew me down on top of him, his lips coming up to meet mine. He kissed me, his tongue plunging into my mouth over and over again. I wound my fingers in his hair and drew him closer.

   Owen rolled me onto my back, sucking one of my nipples, then the other, even as his hand dipped between my legs. His finger slid inside me, and this time, I gasped.

   “Ticklish indeed,” he murmured in a low, satisfied voice. “Ticklish indeed.”

   I dug my nails into his back, wanting him to keep going, but Owen moved even lower on the bed, eased my thighs apart, and put his mouth on me, his tongue darting in and out. His movements were slow at first, as he teased me just the way that I had him, but then his strokes grew quicker, sharper, harder. I arched back on the bed, my fingers twisting into the sheets, feeling the pressure and pleasure mount in equal parts, heat roaring through my entire body.

   “Come on, baby,” he whispered. “Let go for me.”

   And I did.

   The climax exploded, and I fell back against the pillows, enjoying the languid heat that flooded my veins, making every part of me feel warm, relaxed, and satisfied. Owen kissed his way back up my body and started to gather me in his arms again.

   I held out my hand, stopping him. “Oh, no.” I gave him a wicked grin. “We’re not done yet.”

   I pushed him flat on his back, then got a condom from his wallet on the nightstand. I took my little white pills, but we always used extra protection. That wasn’t the only thing that I grabbed from the nightstand. The gray Stetson that Owen had bought earlier was sitting there, so I plopped it on his forehead.

   “I told you that I wanted you to wear this for me.”

   “That’s just fine with me, ma’am,” he drawled. “I always aim to please.”

   “Me too.”

   Owen laughed and tipped his hat at me before pushing it back from his forehead so he could see me better. I gave him a devilish grin, then went to work, kissing, licking, stroking, and sucking him just as he had me.

   “Oh, yeah,” he rasped, his entire body twitching as he struggled to hold still and make the pleasure last as long as possible.

   But I didn’t make him wait long. When he was ready for me, I unrolled the condom over him, then rose up onto my knees and straddled him, sinking down onto his long, hard length in one smooth stroke. This time, we groaned together.

   I rode him hard and fast, and Owen put his hands on my hips, urging me on. The pressure and the pleasure started building again, each stroke rougher, quicker, and more satisfying than the last. This time, we both moaned and went over the edge together.

   And I lost myself in him for the rest of the night.

14

   I would have liked to sleep in late the next morning, but my phone rang at exactly seven o’clock. I knew who was calling this early and why. I was surprised that he’d waited this long to update me.

   Owen grunted, rolled over to the far side of the bed, and pulled the covers up over his head while I fumbled for my phone on the nightstand.