Owen held me as he pushed us farther into the room and shed his coat. Our lips did not stop and neither did my fingers until I had stripped him of his shirt. He arched against the feel of my hands on his bare stomach and chest, his agate-blue eyes ablaze. I ran my fingertips up to his shoulders and down his arms, leading his hands to the straps of my tank top.
He peeled it down to my waist, his lips meeting mine again as he reached for the hook of my bra. I reached for the beaded necklaces, but he stopped me, his voice ragged against my lips.
"Leave them. Just them," he said. His hands dropped to the button of my jeans. He undid them and slid his hands around to the back of my waist, dropping lower as his pulled my jeans off. They dropped to the floor, and I stepped out of them.
The moment away from his body was too long, and I pulled him close again. I felt him hard through the fabric of his suit pants and the heavy contour melted something deep inside me.
"More?" I asked, the back of my knees meeting the edge of the bed.
Owen nodded, taking off his pants. I lay back on the bed and he slipped up and over me, the heat of his body and our desire making me arch towards him. His lips crushed against me and I opened to him. As his tongue slid against mine, his hand mimicked the intoxicating friction between my legs.
I dragged my hand down his wide shoulder, across the tense hold of his arm, to where his fingers swept in small pulsing circles. When he felt my hand press his wrist, he slipped inside my panties and pressed into me.
I arched against the exquisite pressure. His lips left mine and he panted against my neck, the sweet motion driving him harder as I melted against his touch.
I pressed up against him, pulling myself free of my panties, leaving nothing between us. Owen kissed me again, breathing words of ecstasy as he pushed inside me. I cried out at the sudden and shattering pleasure that pulsed through me and around him. He held firm until my shockwaves subsided, then rocked gently with them.
The rhythm built, his hands cupping my cheeks, his blue eyes awash like the sea. Owen looked down at me, our eyes locked together as he surged into me, a crashing wave of pure bliss.
PART 3
CHAPTER TEN
Quinn
The rest of the tournament weekend passed in a neon-lighted blur. I assumed that was the way many weekends there ended up for the tourists all around me. I just felt like I was in a different world.
When Owen and I woke up together in the same bed, we laughed. And then, we did not talk about it again. Even on the nearly four-hour trip back to UCLA, we never mentioned it once.
"Do you like living in L.A.?" Owen asked after one particularly long pause.
"Yeah, but sometimes I wonder if I would like anywhere that gave a buffer between me and my parents," I said. "How about you? You still live in the same town you grew up in and your parents are just down the street like mine."
"When they're in town," Owen said. "My parents are different."
The Redds had money, and not the kind families got from high-powered careers. They had inherited money, old money, and it seemed to be a self-replenishing supply. Every year, Owen's parents made a big show of offering him a yearly stipend, which he immediately turned down. Then, they flew off to another jet-set location and it would be months until they appeared in Nevada again.
"Haven't you ever been tempted to be like your parents?" I asked. "It would put you in the same position as Anya." The words soured even as they came out of my mouth.
Owen scrubbed at his stubbled chin. "I've never been tempted because that's not what I want. It’s not really what they want for me, either. My parents are happy that I want to be my own man. Sometimes, when I think about taking a desk job or some other conventional thing, I hear their voices in my head telling me life's too short to go any way but my way."
I sighed. "That sounds like a luxury to me."
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "I know it looks like it’s been easy for me. I don't have anything to complain about. It’s just I've worked hard to build my own career out of nothing. The fact that it looks effortless is something I'm proud of, but I also think it takes away my credibility."
"Oh, you seemed to have plenty of credibility at the tournament," I said. I slapped his knee. "No wonder you seem to have a never-ending fountain of self-confidence."
"Me? You're the one that burst on to the scene."
"That was Arrowa. I'm just plain old Quinn about to go back and scrape by with bottom grades in her nursing program." I crossed my arms and looked out the window.
"Who knows, maybe you'll get kicked out and have a chance to make it on your own," Owen said.
The thought was appealing, more than appealing. By the time Owen parked the car and we walked across campus, I had thought of a dozen legitimate ways to get kicked out of the nursing program. My parents would be angry, but I would be free. Free of them and Sienna's shadow and free to finally take a look around and decide what I wanted for myself.
"Quinn?" Owen caught me with my hand on the doorknob of my dorm room. He pulled me closer and wrapped his arms tightly around my waist. "I know what we haven't been talking about is a really hard thing to talk about. Just know this."
He kissed me. Light and simple, but he let it linger until I had no doubt our thoughts were the same.
"Who needs to talk?" I asked. "We seem to be doing fine."
"Quinn, is that you?"
My blood froze as the door opened and my father stood staring at us. Owen's arms dropped away and all the blood drained from my face.
"Father? What are you doing here? Is Mother okay?" I asked.
"I'm right here," she said. My mother came into view, her arms crossed and one foot tapping. "The question is where have you been and what on earth have you been doing?"
"Certainly not studying," my father said. He stepped aside and all but ordered Owen and I inside the room.
I was surprised when Owen followed me. "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas," he said.
"What are you doing here, Owen?" my father asked. "Please tell me you know why this is a cause for concern."
"Frankly, I don't," Owen said.
"I don't know what you think you are doing to our family, but Quinn is in danger of losing her place in the nursing program. Anything you do is harmful to my girls, to Quinn, don't you see that?" my father asked.
"I'm losing my place in the nursing program?" I prayed my hopeful tone had not been heard.
"No," my father said. "Your mother and I drove here and convinced your advisor otherwise. You are on probation, but you will be able to work your way back up. We'll discuss it as soon as this thoughtless, careless, waste of space leaves."
"Father! You can't talk to Owen that way," I protested.
"No, it’s okay, Quinn. I understand. Your father needs someone to blame and it should be me," Owen said. "Better me than Sienna or you or anyone else. Listen to them, don't lose what you have here before you know what you want."
His words hurt, but I still followed him to the door and grabbed his hand. He squeezed mine before pulling free. "See you around."