Broken Beautiful Hearts(86)

“You can do whatever you want with me, Peyton. Just don’t break my heart.” His tone is sexy and playful, but there’s a hint of seriousness, too.

The gym door opens behind him.

“Hey, Owen? I need a favor.” It’s Charlie, the guy who works at the front desk. “It’s bingo night over at the church and nobody brought the doughnuts. Y’all are the last ones here. Any chance you can lock up for me when you leave? The older folks get real upset if there aren’t any doughnuts.”

“No problem,” Owen says without taking his eyes off me.

Charlie waits for Owen to turn around. But Owen doesn’t move.

“All right, then. I’ll leave the keys in the boxing ring,” Charlie says. “How about that? Just toss ’em in the mail slot after you lock the front door. I’ve got another set at home.”

Charlie rushes back out the glass door and through the gym.

Owen and I are alone—as in the only people in this building.

His eyes glaze over. “You are so beautiful.”

Owen touches my lips with his, but he doesn’t kiss me. He just brushes his lips over mine, back and forth, until I can’t catch my breath. He pulls the towel tighter, and I feel how much he wants me.

I slide my arms around his neck and tilt my head to kiss him.

He pulls back so our lips barely touch, teasing me.

“Kiss me, Owen. Please.” I run my finger down the back of his neck and continue the path along his spine.

When I reach his shorts Owen’s mouth crashes into mine. Firecrackers explode inside my chest as his tongue slides into my mouth. The kiss is hungry and impatient, and I don’t want it to end. He tries to move down to my neck, but I recapture his lips with mine.

My skin is burning up from the heat building inside me, but I’m still soaked and I shiver.

Owen brings the towel up around my shoulders and nuzzles my neck. “You’re cold.”

“I’m fine.”

“Let’s go inside. You need to change out of this thing.” He hooks his finger under the strap of my bathing suit.

I don’t want to change, or do anything that involves being any farther away from him than I am right this second. “Only if you come with me.”

Owen draws back and looks at me. He’s trying to figure out if I meant it the way it sounded. “Only if I get to carry you.” He leans close to my ear. “You don’t know how crazy it made me when I saw you in Titan’s arms, in the hallway.”

“That wasn’t my choice.”

“I know.” He cups my face in his hands. “But when I touch you, I want to know that it’s your choice.”

“Owen? Will you take me to the locker room?”

“I’ll do whatever you want, Peyton. Haven’t you figured that out by now?” He bends down, scoops me up in his arms, and carries me into the women’s locker room.

It’s dark except for the safety lights plugged in along the baseboards. In the corner, two chairs and a sofa are arranged like a sitting area in a department store.

It’s colder in the locker room, and my teeth chatter.

Owen notices. “You are cold.”

“I’m okay.”

He carries me to the counter, where clean towels are stacked next to a basket of body lotion, brushes, and Aqua Net hair spray. “Grab some towels.”

“Why?”

He kisses the top of my head. “Don’t be stubborn.”

I pick up a few towels with a huff, and Owen carries me to the sitting area.

“It’s warmer over here,” he says, gently lowering me down onto the sofa. He kneels on the floor in front of me and wraps the towels around my body.

“I feel like a burrito.”

“You look like a burrito. A pretty burrito.” He looks around. “Where’s your locker? I’ll get your clothes.”

I tug on his shorts so he’ll come closer. “I’m warm now. I don’t need clothes.” That came out wrong. “Other clothes.”

“You can’t stay in a wet bathing suit.”

“Maybe…”

He wraps his arms around my waist. “What?”

“You could warm me up?” It sounds like a bad pickup line.

Owen searches my face.

I lean forward and kiss him, and his uncertainty disappears. He reaches inside the towels and wraps his arms around my waist. My pulse pounds faster than before, as if my body was just waiting for him to pick up where he left off.

He slides my bathing suit strap off my shoulder and kisses his way up my neck. Then his hands drift lower. He traces a path along my collarbone. When his fingers brush over the wet fabric covering my chest, another rush of heat makes me shudder.

“Come here.” I lie back slowly, keeping my arms looped around his neck so he follows. The towels are tangled around me, and Owen tugs at the one wrapped around my waist and lowers his body between my legs carefully, so he doesn’t lean against my knee.

He runs his hand along my body slowly—down the side of my breast to my waist, then farther south to trace the edge of my bathing suit. My body reacts in ways I’ve never experienced before.

His hand lingers at the boundary. “Is this okay?”

“More than okay.”

He slips his hand under the material, and I gasp.