I beam, happy I’m going to make his birthday special. Lord knows he deserves it.
“You know what I was thinking about yesterday?”
“What?”
“It’s been a year since I moved back, since we met.”
He shakes his head thoughtfully as we reach the door. “Look how much has changed in a year.”
“A lot.”
“You know the first time I saw you, there was just something about you. It struck a chord within me right away.”
I tilt my head. “It did?”
He nods before pushing open the door. “It’s like a switch flipped inside of me. I was so drawn to you, and when you shut me down, I knew if it couldn’t be romantic between us, I’d need you as a friend.”
We walk into the room, Owen tossing our bags onto the floor.
“Despite everything that happened to me before coming back to London, I can’t lie that the night we met you intrigued me,” I admit. “But I wasn’t ready then; it would have complicated things.” I pause. “Well, I don’t know if we could have gotten ourselves into a more complicated situation, if I’m being honest.” I can’t help but laugh at how it all turned out.
“I wouldn’t change it for the world,” he says, pulling me into him. My body warms instantly at his touch. Due to us only recently getting together and Rosie being attached to my hip, we haven’t exactly had time to be intimate, but I’m hoping this weekend changes that for us.
I lean forward, connecting my lips to his, Owen catching on pretty quickly about what I want. It’s an unspoken understanding that we have one whole year of sexual tension to live up to.
Not having it in me to waste time, I quickly latch my grabby hands onto the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head with his help.
Jesus Christ.
Sure, I’ve seen him shirtless a lot, but it has never been the time, until now. I let myself explore him, running my hands up and down his toned golden chest. My hands are cold against his warm skin as I get my fill.
Owen wastes no time pulling my top off, somehow managing to pin me under him in the process.
“You use these moves with all the ladies?” I joke as we remove the rest of our clothing. It’s rushed, crazy and frantic. It’s us.
Owen laughs as he runs his hands through my hair. “Only the special ones.” He even throws in a wink.
I roll my eyes before crashing our lips together again, each of us fighting for dominance. I decide to let him have it, just this once anyway.
His hands roam my body, exploring every single inch of me, mapping out a path from top to bottom. I lie on my back, no complaints coming his way. He takes his time, worshipping me like a treasure he doesn’t deserve. I feel the same.
Every touch, every kiss feels different with Owen. It screams love and devotion, two things I didn’t know how much I needed to feel until now.
Eventually there are no more barriers between us, Owen and I connected in the most intimate of ways. My breath hitches and I bite down on my lip.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispers from above me, no longer playing around. My hands find his as I pull him closer, our bodies flush against one another.
“Me too,” I whisper. “But I’m glad we waited.”
He nods, so close to me I can feel the warmth of his breath. “Me too, Lottie. Me too.”
We move together as one, my heart and soul never having felt as full as they do right now.
It’s an hour later as we’re lying in bed, Owen having fallen asleep sometime in the past twenty minutes, that I realize—in all the time we were together, not once did I feel insecure or self-conscious about myself or my body. Sure, I’m a confident girl, always have been, but pregnancy changes your body and I’d be a liar to say otherwise.
Yet despite it all, Owen made me as comfortable as I ever could be, and I relished in his presence rather than squirming.
I feel him stir next to me, my face resting on his chest. I turn my head up, then look at him with a grin.
“Sorry, I must have dozed off,” he says, pulling me up to kiss him.
“You’re fine. I know work’s been crazy.”
He looks around, rubbing his sleepy eyes with his free hand. “What time is it anyway?”
“It’s a little after three. You hungry again?” I lean away from him, keeping the sheet to my chest while I grab a room service menu from the nightstand.
“Starving,” he responds, but I don’t think he’s talking about food. I playfully roll my eyes before shoving the menu at him.
“Pick something and I’ll order.”
He takes his time, my stomach practically speaking by the time he’s decided on a burger. I get one too and order it hastily.
Then we settle into one another, Owen picking the stupidest comedy he can for us to watch, but I don’t mind. It’s one of the things I like most about him. Although he’s a huge goofball, he’s extremely caring and sensitive.
He’s my guy.
We spend the rest of the afternoon in bed, doing all sorts of things, but as six p.m. rolls by, that nagging feeling hits me.
I miss Rosie.
“You know, she’s right down the hall,” Owen says casually as he strokes my hair. My eyes meet his, and I know he wants to see her as much as I do.
“We’ve had enough time just us two. We should get her.”
I turn, looking at him. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. The only thing that could make this day any better is ending it with my two girls.”
He doesn’t need to tell me twice. I lean up and kiss him passionately before jumping off him and
