She took in a deep breath, her chest greeting his lips. He felt her heartbeat against his hand as he slid it under her flimsy top. “You were the prettiest girl back in high school, and you’re even more beautiful now,” he said, gliding his hand closer to the object of his desire. A faint thud echoed from somewhere above. He froze.
“You heard that, right?” Her hot breath sent a shiver down his spine.
He’d been hearing a lot of things lately, but that didn’t sound like a nice, little old lady. “It’s probably nothing.” No way did he want this moment to end, so he tried to will the sounds away.
You need to believe.
I’m going crazy, he thought.
She cupped his face as a few other faint noises rang out in the night. “Please tell me you heard that?”
He buried his head in her neck. “The wind is picking up. It’s probably just tree branches or something.” Then he heard a few more thuds, followed by a door slamming. “Okay, I heard that,” he said, reaching for his gun as he leapt from the couch. “You stay put.”
“Like hell.” Once again, she buried herself in his back. “Where your pistol goes, I go.”
“Fine but stay close and grab your cell phone as we head up the stairs.” The first step creaked under his weight. “Any chance you left a window open?”
She pounded her head against his back. “Um, well, I might have.”
He chuckled. “Let’s check it out anyway.”
Courtney hadn’t left any windows open, but she knew who did, and she could smell her grandmother’s cinnamon scent everywhere. Everyone had a natural scent. Owen’s was like the ocean mist, or first morning dew. Hers was more like a hot summer day, which was in part, why hers and Owen’s hearts were locked with one another.
She stayed tucked behind Owen, just in case, since Grandmother Dearest wasn’t owning up to her shenanigans. Things had been going well enough downstairs. Hell, damn near perfect, minus a few articles of clothing. So why would her grandmother interfere? Kind of didn’t make sense, then again, Grandma was a pushy broad.
Courtney repeated the thought, in hopes to get a rise out of her grandmother, but she got nothing.
Damn.
“This house has always smelled like someone is baking,” he said.
“Because I usually am and so was Grandma.”
“Well, lookie here,” he said after opening her bedroom door.
“What?” She nudged her head under his arm and blushed as she stared at the open window just above the bed. “Sorry,” she managed, trying to remember if she’d pulled back the covers or not. It wouldn’t be unheard of for her to prepare her bed like that, making it easier to jump between the sheets. And the plan had always been to get him to jump in there with her. But the couch had been working just fine, so why mess with the mojo?
Here that, Grandma? Don’t fix it if it ain’t broken.
He needs to believe…
The curtains fluttered as the cool breeze filtered across the room. “Why don’t I just shut that?” He tucked his gun in his pants.
“That can’t be comfortable?” She scowled. Messing with a man’s gun would be like messing with his lawn mower. Not a very bright thing to do. He tugged the window closed, then turned and faced her. His eyes bore deep into her soul, making her heart beat just a little faster. “I feel naked if I don’t have it with me.”
“But does it have to be on you all the time?” She swallowed the sudden rush of nerves threatening to surface. She’d started this dance, and according to all the stars, the cards, and the potions, he was the man for her. “I mean, you don’t sleep with it, do you?”
He glanced at her bed, then back at her, letting his gaze drop to her feet before working his way back up her body. He shook his head, removed the gun, and put it on the nightstand. Then without warning, he ripped off his shirt and tossed it to the floor. “No. I don’t.”
A groan rumbled in her throat. She tried to swallow, but her muscles seemed to be on leave from active duty or something, because she couldn’t move. Hell, she couldn’t blink if she tried. All she could do was stare at the perfect specimen standing before her. “Wow,” she heard herself say. He’d always been a hottie, and built like a tank, but not quite like this. “You’ve changed a little.”
“I would hope so, since I’m not seventeen anymore.”
“Nope. You’re not. And I’m not fifteen.”
“Can we not go down that road?” he said with a contorted look on his face. “We’re adults now, not silly teenagers who don’t know anything about nothing.”
“Wow. That was prolific.”
He reached for his shirt.
Panic forced her heart to beat into her mouth. She reached for his arm. “Please. I’m just kind of nervous and always, I resort to sarcasm.”
“You’ve always had a sharp tongue.”
Listening to the drum-like pattern of her heart, she inched closer to him. His muscles twitched when she splayed her hands across his stomach. His skin was soft yet hard. She kissed the center of his chest and inhaled the ocean breeze filtering from his skin. The unsteady rise and fall of his chest mirrored her own labored breathing.
He tugged at her ponytail, releasing her hair, then ran his fingers effortlessly through the tangled mess. Goosebumps tickled up her spine as he traced a path down the length of her back. “You’re a beautiful
