We split up. Eva left to go to her classes, Finn went out and about to see what his contacts had to say, and Jo-Jo geared up for a busy day at the salon.
Owen drove me over to his house. He insisted on tucking me into his bed, despite the fact it was after eleven and the day was already turning warm. He sat down next to me.
“I would offer to fix you breakfast in bed, but you took care of that already this morning,” he joked.
I laughed. “It’s okay. You know how much I enjoy cooking. It’s therapy for me, as much as anything else.”
“I know.” Owen’s face turned serious. “I’m sorry for what Salina did to you, Gin. Sorrier than you will ever know. But I’m glad you’re going to let me talk to her, to give her one more chance.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t trust myself to speak where Salina was concerned. Not right now, not to Owen. The last thing I wanted to do was push him away, but I knew that was what would happen if I told him Salina had run out of chances.
“Thank you for that, Gin.”
Owen leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. He started to pull back, but I deepened the kiss, drawing him closer to me. He hesitated, but his hands began to slide over my body in that strong, confident, familiar way that always made me shiver with anticipation.
“You should rest,” he said.
“I feel fine now,” I whispered against his mouth. “In fact, I want to show you exactly how fine.”
I wrapped my arms around Owen and pulled him down on top of me. We took things slow and easy. We lay there on the bed for a long time, just kissing, our mouths pressed together, our tongues flicking back and forth, our hands gliding, gliding everywhere, just letting the need, the desire, build one soft kiss, one gentle caress, at a time.
But what started as a slow, simmering burn of want quickly escalated into hot, liquid, aching need. We undressed each other, and Owen grabbed a condom out of the nightstand drawer. I took my little white pills, but we always used extra protection.
We lay back down on the bed together and continued with our explorations. No matter how much I touched him, I always wanted more. I marveled at the feel of Owen’s firm body under my hands, at the strength in his muscles, and the ever-quickening thump-thump-thump of his heart as he responded to my caresses. Owen lay back and let me take the lead. I pressed my fingers into his skin, kneading his warm muscles and trying to ease the tension in him—the tension we both felt.
When he was relaxed, I made my touch softer and lighter, more playful and teasing. A kiss here, a lick of my tongue there, a gentle nip or two with my teeth as I worked my way down his body.
I took him in my mouth, making my caresses hard, then soft, then harder still, until his eyes burned violet, and he trembled beneath me. But every time Owen was ready to let go, I brought him back down, just a little bit, before amping up his need once more.
Again and again, I did this. Hard, then soft. Quick, then slow. Playful, then seductive. I used every trick I knew to bring my lover as much pleasure as possible. Maybe it was selfish, but I wanted him to remember this. I wanted him to remember the way I made him feel and how good we were together. I wanted to do everything in my power to erase the memory of Salina from his body, his mind, and most especially his heart.
I needed to do it in a way I never had before.
“Gin,” Owen rasped, the raw, aching desire apparent in his voice. “Gin.”
I grabbed the condom from where he’d placed it on the nightstand and unrolled it over him, still teasing, still caressing, still sliding my fingers over him.
But Owen had other ideas. He reached up and drew me down on top of him. He crushed his mouth to mine and plunged a finger deep inside me. I gasped as he stroked me, hard then soft, fast then slow, over and over again until I was shuddering with the same pleasure he was.
“Two can play this game,” Owen murmured in a sly, satisfied voice. “I don’t know about you, but it’s one of my very favorite games. I love the way you respond to me. I love the way you feel against me.”
All I could do was clutch his shoulders and ride the wave of desire pulsing through me.
But it wasn’t enough, and I rose up above him, then sank down, taking him deep inside me. Owen’s hands wrapped around my hips, and he urged me on, urged me to give us both the pleasure we wanted, the pleasure we needed.
I took him deeper and rode him harder until we were locked together as tightly, as closely, as two people could be. The whole bed shook with our frenzied movements, and, still, it wasn’t enough.
And when we finally reached that sweet, sweet pinnacle of pleasure, we exploded over the edge together—our desire finally satisfied and perhaps our hearts a little lighter too.
At least for this moment.
I must have been more worn out than I’d thought, because sometime after Owen and I finished making love, I fell asleep, nestled in his strong arms. My eyes still closed, I stretched, feeling completely, happily sated, and reached over for him. I didn’t know about Owen, but I was ready for round two, maybe three—
Instead of the warm body I’d expected to find, my hands only met empty air and cold sheets.
My eyes snapped open. “Owen?”
No response.
I sat up, but my lover wasn’t in the bedroom or the adjoining bathroom. He was probably just somewhere else in the mansion, snacking in the kitchen maybe. Still, something about the silence seemed ominous.
I picked up my clothes from where they had fallen onto the floor and quickly dressed. I left the bedroom and went to Owen’s office, with its wall of weapons, but he wasn’t there. The foreboding feeling welled up inside me like a storm cloud gathering strength. I searched the rest of the first floor of the mansion, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Finally, I came across Eva sitting at the kitchen table, a piece of paper in her hand and a stricken look on her face.
“Eva? What’s wrong?”
She looked at me, and somehow I knew what she was going to say even before the words left her mouth.
“It’s Owen. He’s gone.”
27
I frowned. “Gone? What do you mean Owen’s gone?”
She waved the paper at me. “I mean I came home from class, and I found this on the kitchen table. Here. Read it for yourself.”
I took it from her and realized that it was actually expensive stationery. The cream-colored paper smelled faintly of a sweet, cloying, floral scent—and it had Salina’s mermaid rune embossed in blue-green ink across the top. But it was the handwritten message below that chilled me to the bone.
Darling Owen,
We need to talk about us. Come to my dinner party tonight, and I’ll show you the marvelous plans I’ve made for us, for all of Ashland. Black tie dress only. And come alone—or your whore of an assassin dies.
XOXO
Salina
I didn’t know what was more disturbing—the fact that Salina had threatened to kill me or that she’d signed the letter like a love-struck teenage girl. Then again, that was what she was when it came to Owen—obsessed and determined to get him back no matter what. I couldn’t help but think that if Salina couldn’t have Owen, then she would be more than happy to make sure that no one had him, especially me.
And Owen had walked right into her sticky web once more. I knew he’d gone to the water elemental to protect me from her threat, even if it meant putting himself in harm’s way, but anger spiked through me just the same, that he’d left without telling me what was going on. Owen thought he could get through to Salina, that he could convince her get help, but he was wrong. I just hoped I could get to him in time—and bury the bitch once and for all.