I look to Owen for help, but he just shrugs. “I’d love a chance to take you out.”
“If you’re uncomfortable with Liam and me watching her…” Maureen’s voice trails off as I start to shake my head.
“No, it isn’t that. I just…” I sigh. “I have no idea. I guess I’m just not used to having so many ready and willing babysitters.”
“Does that mean we can watch her next week?”
I look at Stella who is practically vibrating with excitement while waiting for my answer. “Yes.” I sigh. “She can spend some time with you next weekend.” I glance at Owen. “But you don’t have to take me out if you don’t want to.”
“Is that a real statement?” he asks me. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. I can’t wait to take you out next weekend, Tristan.” He leans forward but doesn’t kiss me in front of Stella. “I can’t wait.”
Chapter Nine
Owen
Tristan knocks on my door at ten o’clock the next morning. Dressed in a loose pair of flowered sweats and a cotton shirt that slides off one shoulder, she’s pulled her hair back in a ponytail and wears a pair of black-framed glasses. It’s sexy as fuck.
I frown when I notice her arms are laden with grocery bags. “What are you doing?”
“I told you I would make the food for the football game thing. So I’m here to make the food.”
I glance around her, looking for her mini-me. “Where’s Stella?”
“Roe is watching her for me.”
The knowledge that we’re entirely alone, for the first time ever, hits me like a lightning bolt. Without thought, I reach forward, grabbing her arm and yanking her into the house. I slam the front door closed and immediately push her up against it. Within seconds, the bags are dropping off her arms as I press up against her.
Her hands slide up my back, fingers burying in the hair at the back of my neck. “What are you doing, Owen?”
I grin wolfishly. “What I’ve wanted to since the first second I saw you standing in my sister’s kitchen,” I say softly, right before I lean forward and take her mouth with my own. She whimpers as my lips move across hers; her hands side down so that her nails dig into my back, and I wish I wasn’t wearing a shirt and that those nails were actually digging into my flesh and not cotton.
Not giving her time to think, I move my knee between her legs, and skim my hands up the loose cotton of her shirt, bunching the material as I go. Her skin is like silk, warm and smooth under my fingers. She shivers in my arms, shifting her body just slightly, and I realize she’s trying to get some friction as she starts to ride my leg. I swiftly pull my leg away. “No way, mo chuisle.” I skim my nose down the side of her neck before sucking softly on the skin where her shoulder and neck meet. “The first time you come, it won’t be like that.”
“First time?” she asks breathlessly. Her eyes are clouded with lust, her hands now on the move as they skim down my back and then up beneath my shirt. “I have to start cooking.”
“They can fucking starve for all I care.” I move my mouth over her exposed collarbone, down across her shoulder where I bite gently, and her answering cry is all the encouragement I need.
I drop to my knees, shoving the bags she’d dropped aside, I push her shirt up even farther, exposing her stomach to my hungry gaze. Keeping my eyes locked on her face, I lean forward and nip softly at the skin around her belly button. She inhales sharply again, and I lick over the same spot. “Owen,” her voice is soft, sultry, and really fucking sexy. “What are we doing?”
I lean back. “Jesus, Tristan, do I seriously need to explain what I’m doing?”
Her tongue dips out, licking across an already glistening lower lip, and my dick jumps in reaction. “No,” she says, her voice still whisper-soft. “I-I think I have a good idea what we’re doing at the moment.” She licks her lip again. Fuck. Me. “I meant, what are we doing?” She waves her hand back and forth between the two of us. “Before this goes any further, I have to know what we’re doing. I have Stella to think about.”
“Tristan.” I lean forward and kiss her stomach again. “What do you think we’re doing?” Another kiss, then a third while I wait on her to respond. “Tristan?” I kiss along her side, rising up just a little so I can press my lips high on her stomach, just beneath her breast. I can see the hint of purple lace on her bra, and I can’t stop my fingers from reach up to brush against the material. “Tristan?” I question again.
“I can’t think.”
My fingers slide farther up, brushing along her nipple, which pebbles instantly at my slight touch. “I think that’s good. Let’s not think. Just for a minute.”
I push up to my full height, bringing her shirt up with me as I go. I brush my lips across the skin I’ve just exposed, reveling in the continued intake of breath, or the whimpers that escape her soft lips every time I touch her. “You’re so fucking responsive.”
“It’s”—her breath hitches again, and that damn tongue darts back out to brush across her lip—“been a long time.”
I hesitate for just a moment. “How long?” I push one cup of her bra aside, exposing her breast to my heated gaze. I rub my thumb over the puckered pink nipple.
“What?” She breathes out the word. I brush against the nipple again with my fingers before leaning forward just enough to blow against the skin. “Fucking hell, Owen. You’re going to kill me.”
“How long has it been, Tristan?”
“Since I got pregnant with Stella.”
I pull back, shocked. I’d figured it had been a while, just from conversations we’d had, but that long? “That’s a really fucking long time.”
She shrugs her shoulders, almost embarrassed that it’s been so long since she’s had sex. “I was with Trevor, and then he died, and I was pregnant. Then I was a single mother. I learned to prioritize. And sex wasn’t high on the priority list.” She gives a half smile. “Now I remember why it should have been.”
“Oh, baby, I’ve barely even started to remind you.” I practically growl out the words before I lean forward, taking her nipple into my mouth. That sexy, little whimper she makes escapes her lips again, and only encourages me. I use one hand to push her breast up higher, pulling the skin deeper into my mouth as my other hand travels down, down, down, across her stomach and under the waistband of her sweats.
I hear a loud thump that causes me to release her nipple with a small pop. When I look up, it’s to see that her head is tipped back, smacking against the door behind her. I grin before leaning forward to pay equal attention to her other nipple. I pull it into my mouth through the material of her bra while my other hand continues its original journey.
“You’re fucking soaked,” I growl as my fingers find their destination between her legs. She gasps my name as my fingers slide through her slick folds. I run my thumb in a quick circle over her clit at the same time as I sink one finger inside of her.
“Owen.” Jesus, I might come just from the sultry sound of her voice alone. “Owen, please. Please, please.”