Tangled Vines (9 page)

“Oh, my goodness!” Rosie exclaims, clamping a hand over her mouth. “You look like one of those GQ models, Owen.” Standing in front of me, she runs her hands over the sleeve of my leather jacket. “One of those bad-boy GQ models,” she adds dreamily.

“Thanks, Rosie.” Tipping my head at the door, I ask, “Elle in?”

“Of course. Go ahead.” Rosie smiles and I have to think she’s more than okay with our date. Not that we need her approval, but I’ve seen the relationship between her and Elle.

“Hey,” I announce as I walk in the room. With a pen sticking out of her messy bun, Elle is scouring through papers, a frantic energy filling the room. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing, it’s nothing.” Her attempt at deflection pisses me off something awful. Standing in front of her desk, I lean forward and place my palms on the cool, dark wood.

“Cut the ‘it’s nothing’ shit, Elle. Something is clearly wrong and this is my company, too. So tell me what the problem is so we can both fix it.” My voice is calm and controlled, demanding but not mean.

She flops back in her seat. When she looks up at me, her eyes lazily rove over my body. Now, that’s the reaction I was going for – eyes wide, mouth open, rendered speechless. When she regains her sense of composure, she swallows hard, allowing herself one last lust-filled glance.

Whatever she’s been working on is clearly exhausting her. It’s clear as day in her warm brown eyes. “I lined up another investor. They want to meet with me, I mean us, tomorrow.”

“That’s good, though. Right?” Pulling the chair up, I sit back, trying to figure out why this would be such a bad thing.

“They want plans for the venue that I just don’t have. Numbers and figures I didn’t even think of. They want a blueprint – not a finalized one, but one that would give them enough of an idea of the vision. Staffing, food costs, things like that; things I hadn’t thought of.” Her words come out in a rush, but the disappointment in her own lacking forethought is there nonetheless.

“It’ll be okay, Elle. You put this together on your own, and from what I can tell, it was your first solo project. You’re allowed to make mistakes.” My words do nothing to make her relax.

“No. I’m not. Mistakes are for the weak. I need to make this project work, not just for Vincent but for myself, for the future of this vineyard. I can’t tell you how important this is to me.”

“Can you try? I’m going to help you one way or the other, but I’d like to know why this is so important.” Reaching across the desk, I pull her hand into mine. Our eyes meet and she nods, letting some of the weight lift from her shoulders.

“It could take all night,” she adds, sarcasm hanging on her words.

“I’d love to spend all night with you, but let me make one call first,” I add with a wink. Making her laugh and smile helps to lighten the mood. Because it feels like whatever she has to tell me is going to be anything but light.

“My dad beat my mom, a lot.” Those words used to be so difficult to say, but they aren’t anymore. They’re the truth, after all. With years of therapy behind me, I now realize it’s not my fault.

Looking over at Owen, his reaction to my confession is anything but calm. “Did he ever beat you?” Owen seethes. Visions of what happened yesterday flash in my mind, and through his I’m sure.

“No,” I assure him. “Mom kicked him out before he ever got the chance. That might have been her one shining moment.” My shoulders sag thinking about what my childhood could have been like.

“What is she like?” Owen asks, quiet concern lacing through his words.

Shrugging, I search for the words to put her in the best, but still honest light. “She was a good mother. She tried her best, really she did, but she was a drunk and we were poor. So I was on my own a lot. She never sobered up enough to take Dad to court or ask for child support, so when I was old enough to get a job, I did. When my high school opened up its intern program, there was a spot here and I saw the possibility that I could make something of myself. I wanted to run a company and never have to go without. So now, instead of worrying about Mom taking care of me, I take care of her. Her drinking is under control, but she’ll never be able to stop.” Steadying my voice, I add, “At least now, she doesn’t have to worry about paying for rent.”

“You and I aren’t all that different,” Owen’s words break me out of my state of self-pity. When I look up, he finishes his thoughts, “I spent my whole life trying to prove that I wasn’t a product of my environment, that I could be more than people thought I could. That’s why you pissed me off so much,” he adds with a soft chuckle.

“I’m–” he cuts my apology in half.

“I know you’re sorry. It’s okay, really. We were both thrown into this situation blindly, but the more I think about it, the more I realize my father probably had a larger plan in mind.” As Owen scans my face, his eyes take on a bit more of a seductive look.

“Oh, yeah and how’s that?” I walk around the desk and prop myself on the edge, crossing my legs. This cat and mouse game of the last few weeks has worn me down. Seeing Owen’s compassionate side warms me to him in ways I wasn’t initially ready for.

Owen stands in front of me, running his hands up from my calves to the hem of my skirt. “I can’t be certain, but let’s just say him pushing us together like this,” his fingers dig into the soft flesh of my thighs, “is a coincidence I’m more than happy to deal with.” His fingers flirt with the edge of my stockings and his voice comes out in a low growl. “Fuck, I knew it.”

Without any warning, his mouth crushes mine. Hiking my skirt up just a touch further allows him to step in between my legs. He pulls me forward so that my ass nearly slides off the desk. Hooking my legs around his hips, I pull him closer to me. His rock-hard length pushes against his jeans and it’s impossible not to grind up against him.

Moving his mouth from mine, he rains kisses down my neck. His moans vibrate against my neck, making my nipples pull into tight peaks. “Tell me to stop, Elle.” His fingers dive into my hair as he angles my head to attack the other side of my neck. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

“No,” I mutter breathlessly. “I want this. Now.” Pushing myself against his hard body, I emphasize just how much I want him.

In one fell swoop, he’s got me locked in his arms. With my legs wrapped around his hips, he grips my ass and carries me over to the door. Balancing my weight against the door, he moves his hand from my ass to lock it. Completely lacking any grace whatsoever, my head bangs against the door, causing Rosie to ask, “Everything okay in there?”

As my feet slide to the floor, Owen presses a finger against my lips. “We’re just fine, Rosie. Thanks for checking, but you can head home now.” The calm control of Owen’s voice completely belies the raging hard-on outlined in his jeans. He’s anything but in control. We hear her snicker through the door as her footsteps slowly retreat.

Ridding him of his jacket, I toss it on the floor. His arms bulge under the strain of his tight T-shirt. His chest looks like it was carved from a slab of stone. Everything about Owen looks chiseled and defined. Running my hands up his shirt, across his six-pack abs, and across the light dusting of hair on his chest causes a hiss of pleasure to pass his lips.

In a movement so smooth, he pulls off his shirt in that sexy-as-hell one-hand-from-behind way that all guys do. This time, it’s my turn to attack his mouth. Reaching up on my toes, I kiss him with all the pent up frustration of the last few weeks, with all the built up lust I’ve tried to deny.

Fumbling fingers tug at his pants and he steadies them with his hand. Within seconds, I’ve got his jeans and boxer briefs pushed down to his hips. His cock is hard and hot in my hand. Tracing over each vein and ridge with my fingertip makes him groan even more. “Shit, Elle. Your hand feels so fucking good.”

“Well then,” I say, looking at him slyly, “you’re going to love this.” I smile up at him seductively as I lower myself to my knees.

Letting each inch of his cock slide past my lips feels like tasting more and more of heaven. He pulls my hair to the side, looking down at me with hooded and lust-filled eyes. “Fuck. That. Looks. Amazing.” His words are perfectly timed with his thrusts.

Holding the base of his cock in my hand, I let it slide out of my mouth almost, but not all the way. Around his engorged head, I mumble, “What’s amazing, Owen?”

“My dick. Your mouth,” his words fall out between shallow breaths. He only lets my lips pass over his cock a few more times before he lifts me from my knees and walks us over to the couch.

With painstaking slowness, he lets my body slide down his. Just as my feet hit the ground, his mouth fuses over mine in a searing kiss. He breaks our mouths apart as he moves his fingers to the buttons on my top. Without breaking eye contact, he unbuttons each one slowly. Every snap and pull on the fabric sends a jolt of electricity racing over my entire body, all settling in my aching, wet core. When the top of my breasts are exposed, he plants seductive kisses right along the lace of my bra. “Oh, God, Owen,” I mutter against his hair, my fingers knotting at his nape, holding him close to my skin. The lingering scent of his shampoo and after-shave heighten my desire, throwing my need into overdrive.

“Tell me what you want, Elle. You can have it. Just ask.” A wolfish and smug-ass grin plays on his beautiful face. The bastard wants me to beg.

Two can play at that game. Rather than answering him, I shove my lace-covered breasts up into his face. Simply nodding his head, he snickers, laughing at my non-verbal demands. “This,” he asks impishly, “is this what you want?” Through the cream lace of my bra, he pulls my hardened nipple deep into his mouth, forcing my hips to lurch forward and press against him.

A sexy seductive grin lazily spreads across his face, His fingers move from my waist, slide down past my hips, and push my skirt up, exposing my lace panties. Keeping his eyes glued to mine, he slowly drifts the pad of his thumb over the fabric-covered seam of my sex. Cocking his head to the side, he yet again responds to my non-verbal demand. “Oh, this” his voice arches coyly, “this is what you want. I see.” Adding a touch more pressure, Owen’s fingers make me forget this silly game I’m trying to play.

“Yes,” I hiss. “Yes, Owen. That’s what I want. You. Your hands. Your mouth.” I reach down and ghost my fingers over his hard cock, spreading the moisture at the tip around. Just as he did moments earlier, I lock my eyes on his as I demand, “Your cock.”

A low, possessive growl falls out of his mouth. “They’re yours,” is all he can manage before his lips crash into mine. The velvety, sweet slide of his tongue against mine makes it impossible not to imagine it sliding against other places. One arm loops around my waist and the other slides down under my butt as Owen effortlessly lifts and tosses me back on the couch.

Laying there with all of my clothes on, while Owen openly stares at me, makes my heart accelerate like nothing else ever has. He stands there, in all his naked glory and my eyes just don’t know where to focus. His face is gorgeously rugged. His chest is chiseled and defined, while his abs are rock fucking hard. His cock is thick and solid, and oh, so ready for action. “Like what you see,” his smug voice cuts through the silence of my dazed stare.

A prickly heat creeps across my face, settling on my cheeks. He sees it and smiles appreciatively at me. “It’s okay, Elle. I like what I see, too.” His voice goes from amused to gravelly in the span of that sentence as his eyes travel over my body. He groans, “Very much,” before stripping me of the rest of my clothes. “These are staying, though,” he whispers against my legs as he runs his tongue along the lacy tops of my stockings.

With his beautiful mouth only inches from my cleft, I can’t do anything other than simply nod at him. Using just the tip of his tongue, he traces slow, torturous circles around my inner thighs, his fingers lightly grazing my slick folds. Arching my hips into his face, he smiles at me and hooks my leg over his shoulder. His finger dips inside of me just as his tongue sweeps slowly over my clit. “Oh, God.” My voice sounds foreign even to me, a low, long groan of need mingled with satisfaction at finally feeling him in this way.