All the Way (Hot Jocks #2)(32)

“The one about the vibrator,” he says, voice husky.

I figured that was the one he meant.

“I wasn’t going to text you about that with all of our friends around,” I say with a playful tug to the front of his shirt. “You know I have no poker face.”

“Well, they’re not around now, are they?” He tucks his thumb into my belt loop and pulls me in, closing whatever little distance remained between us. “Well? Did you use it?”

I chew on my lower lip, bashfully shifting my attention to my feet. “Maybe.”

Owen tilts my chin back up toward him, capturing my gaze with his. “No maybes. Yes or no?”

His eyes are a bright, wild blue, like two separate oceans I want to dive into. I can’t lie to those eyes.

I blink away any remaining shyness and give up the straightforward answer he’s looking for. “Yes. I used it. And . . . I thought of you.”

A tortured groan pours out of Owen’s throat. “Fuck, Becca. Do you know what that does to me?”

My eyes narrow into a challenging squint. Maybe that was a rhetorical question, but I’d still like to know the answer.

“I don’t know, Owen. What does that do to you?”

Without hesitation, he gives me my answer. Taking my wrist in his gentle grip, he brings my hand to his zipper, letting me feel him hardening beneath my touch.

“This,” he says bluntly, his voice suddenly husky with need. “This is what that does to me. What you do to me.”

My fingertips buzz with the solid feel of him—the knowledge that I did this to him with just my words. I curl my hand around the massive bulge and squeeze. And suddenly, it’s like all the air in the room is gone and I’ve forgotten how to speak. But even if I could speak, what would I say? That I’m ready? That I want him? That I’ve been fantasizing about this moment since the day he agreed to help me conquer these sexual fears of mine?

Without moving my hand from its resting place on his zipper, I blink up at him with eager eyes and, on a shaky, airy exhale, manage to squeak out one word. “Bedroom?”

A smile tugs at his lips as he repeats the word back to me. “Bedroom.”

No more discussion needed.

By the time we tumble into my bed, Owen’s shirt is long gone, and he’s already stripped me of my sweater, leaving me in nothing but my jeans and my best black lacy bra, which I had been hoping he’d see tonight. Within seconds, he’s unclasped it and tossed it aside to join the rest of our clothes on the floor.

A low hum of approval rumbles in his throat as he cups my breasts, weighing them in his hands before bowing his head to flick his tongue over one sensitive nipple, then the other. I yip in surprise at first, then settle in to enjoy the gentle nipping and sucking that’s stirring up heat in the needy space between my thighs.

“God, Owen.” I moan his name on a breathy sigh as he trails hungry kisses down my chest and stomach.

I shiver with each touch of his wet, hot mouth to my skin until his nose is in line with the waistband of my jeans. As if by instinct, I lift my hips, anxious for him to finish undressing me.

“A bit excited, are we?” he growls into my hip, following it with a quick nip at my side.

My sharp inhale makes him chuckle as he tugs my jeans down, revealing my lacy black thong, which is already damp. His eyes flicker with hunger at the sight of it.

“You’re so gorgeous. Every inch of you.” Owen kisses my throat as he shifts my panties to the side, parting me slowly with one finger. Every muscle in my body tightens and shudders at his touch.

Rather than rush through things, he spends a long time kissing my mouth, sucking on my breasts, and nuzzling into my neck while his fingers do magical things between my legs.

“So wet. So perfect,” he murmurs, kissing my lips.

He’s right. I’ve never been this turned on before, and the next step is so obvious, if I’m brave enough to take it. I suck in a deep breath and say what I’ve been thinking about all night.

“I’m ready for you, Owen.”

I expect him to jump to his feet, ditch his pants, and mount me right then and there. Instead, he pulls his mouth back from my neck and looks down at me with confusion in his eyes.

“I didn’t think we’d have sex tonight,” he says softly.

I flinch in surprise, stammering, “You—you don’t want to?”

His expression turns serious, and I think something must be wrong. Is he going to leave again? “It’s not that. I don’t have a condom.”

I thought a sex prodigy like Owen would be the type to always come equipped with a whole strip of condoms tucked in his wallet. My halfhearted attempt to veil my frustration must not be very effective. That, or Owen can read me like a book, because he immediately goes in for damage control.

“We can still have fun, I promise. I’m okay with being patient.”

I shift uncomfortably beneath him. “I don’t want you to be okay. You deserve better than okay.”

His sigh is strained as he pushes one hand through his hair. “That’s not what I meant. That was the wrong word. I am better than okay. Hell, I’m the luckiest fucking guy in the world to be here with you. The fact that you trust me with this, with you, it means everything to me. And I don’t want to betray that trust. Does that make sense?”