Wild Reckless (Harper Boys #1)(119)
“I left you in charge of them for like, what? An hour?” I say, sliding up behind Owen, my hands moving around his sides over his stomach and up his chest.
“That better be Kensi feelin’ me up, otherwise my girlfriend’s going to kick your ass,” he jokes, pulling me around to face him, his trademark dark jeans and long-sleeved black shirt calling for me to touch him. I move in close, resting my cheek on his chest, his heart beating underneath. I put on his favorite outfit, too—a red shirtdress with black leggings and a pair of brown leather boots. Even now, a year later, I still want to be the only girl he notices.
“Come on,” he says, his hand sliding down my arm until his fingers find mine, his eyes drawing a line down my body. He walks toward the dance floor, a small wood-planked square crowded with pretty girls and guys on the prowl, and pulls me into the very middle, holding me against his body. He cups my face, stretching me up to my toes, and dusts his lips over mine, speaking against my mouth. “I want to dance with you,” he says, his hands reaching into my hair as he kisses me harder, with enough heat to draw a few whistles from the couples standing next to us. He can feel me blush and start to pull away to hide, so his hands only get firmer, his mouth curving into a smile against mine.
“Don’t you go run and hide. They’re just whistling at a guy kissing the prettiest girl in the room, wear that crown proudly, princess,” he says, his hands growing more bold, sliding over my hips, his thumbs flirting with the waist of my leggings, reminding my body of how quickly he can own me completely.
“I thought you didn’t dance,” I say, my face tilted up to look at him, his eyes peering down on me, both of us hiding under the shadow of his hat.
“Mmmmm,” he hums, pulling me close to him, his chin resting on my head. “This isn’t really dancing. It’s more like foreplay.”
Oh.
“Hey, have you heard from your mom? Did your grandpa get moved in yet?” I ask, and Owen’s body slumps in reaction.
“I say foreplay, and you ask about my grandpa,” Owen chuckles.
“Well, you always knew he’d steal me away from you. It’s kind of your fault when you think about it—you put us together,” I laugh. Owen shakes his head, then kisses the top of mine as he holds me against his chest.
“Grampa’s good. I still can’t believe your mom got him into that program near her hospital. Really, that was amazing of her,” he says, everything about his body so different from the stress and worry that always lived inside of him before. My mom started working on Gus’s case the day his mom sold their house. The Harpers moved into an apartment down the road until school let out, and by the time Owen graduated and the money had run out to pay for his grandfather’s current home, my mom had worked him into the program for veteran’s through her hospital downtown. Emma agreed to let Gus stay for a fraction of the cost until my mom could finalize his move.
“My mom has good connections, and I think she’s finally getting used to the fact that she can make demands for things, and people will listen. Besides, I think she’s a little smitten for Gus, too,” I say.
Owen squints at me, his lips pursed.
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with all this obsession with my hot grandpa,” he says, unable to contain his smile, a laugh breaking through and ruining his character. I nestle back into his embrace.
“My mom has a date,” he says, his chin once again resting on my head, his thumbs caressing small circles along the small of my back.
“Oh yeah?” I say, having a hard time seeing Owen’s mom do anything other than work. In the year I lived next to her, I think I saw her ten times, her eyes always heavy, her body always thin and fatigued.
“You’ll never guess who with,” he says, his tone all I need to know. I can’t help but grin against his chest. I told Owen about what I had learned, about how Mr. Chessman knew his family. I wanted him to know how much he loved working with his father, and how much he respected them all. He needed to know that there were people out there that saw past the wild—people who saw the good. I didn’t mention my suspicions about how Mr. Chessman felt, the way I saw him look at Owen’s mom. But I think that will all work itself out without me.
“You’re kidding?” I say, stepping back and looking up at him again. I love how he towers over me.
“Not kidding. I just feel really bad for Andrew. His teacher is dating his mom, I mean…wow, right?” Owen says, his chest raspy with laughter.
“He’s only his teacher part of the time,” I say, as if that somehow makes it better.
“Yeah, okay,” he says, brushing his thumb over my cheek, his eyes doing that thing where they zero in on me and me alone, the rest of the world fading away. We’ve quit swaying an entire song ago, the pretense of dancing long gone. We’re standing in the middle of the crowded dance floor holding each other, and looking at each other wanting more. I can tell by the way Owen’s breathing, by the way everything about him, about us, slows. Owen draws his finger down my chin to my neck, looping it under the small key charm resting at the bottom of my necklace between my breasts. He pulls the key up to his mouth, biting it in his teeth, his brow lowering and his lips curling.
“You think those two will notice if we ditch them, head back to my room?” Owen finally says, my body reacting as it always does.