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one hand as she examined the framed photos on a shelf beside the mantel. Family photos, coincidentally. Family was important to him. It always had been. And he did want a family eventually. He just wanted one—in the distant future—with a woman he loved more than anything else in the world.
“It’s too small for kids,” he said, hoping to deter the direction of her homemaker thoughts. “Especially the upstairs.”
“I think all kids should be raised in small houses,” she said. “You’d have no choice but to spend time together.”
“So your family is close?” he asked, wondering how she ended up with nothing and no one to look after her if she had a close family back in Idaho.
“Not really,” she said, staring at him with a wide-eyed hopeful expression on her face. “But I want that for our baby, don’t you?”
Owen started up the stairs, purposely avoiding her question. After a moment, he heard her footsteps on the meticulously refinished stairs behind him. He tossed his bag into the master bedroom, which was exactly twelve square feet larger than the guest room and scarcely fit his queen-size bed. He didn’t need a big master bedroom. All he did was sleep in there, and he never brought a woman home with him.
Until tonight.
“The guest room,” he announced as he crossed the small hallway and switched on the light. “Make yourself at home.”
Sometimes his brother had stayed with Owen before he’d been deployed to Afghanistan. Chad had helped Owen with some of the construction for a few months before he’d left, and they’d often worked into the wee hours of the morning, so Owen had intentionally decorated the guest room in masculine shades of taupe, red, and navy blue because he’d honestly thought the only person who would ever use the room would be Chad or maybe Kelly if he was over and got too drunk to drive—something that had never happened.
“It’s lovely,” Lindsey said, stepping into the room. She glanced around before turning and hugging him fiercely. “I will pay you back somehow,” she said. “Thank you for not making me feel like an unwanted whore.”
He lifted his free arm to hug her in return, his stomach clenching because he might not have made her feel that way, but he had probably thought of her that way at least once, and that had been wrong of him.
“You’re not unwanted or a whore,” he said. “You’re a friend, and friends help each other when they can.”
She snuggled into him, and he became aware of her soft curves and the foreign—but pretty cool—feel of her large, firm belly against him. His body responded with instant, unwanted arousal, and he silently cursed Caitlyn for putting him in such a state. Lindsey was bound to get the wrong idea if he extended a major boner along with his hand in friendship.
“You’re so wonderful,” she murmured. “And you smell so good.”
She smelled of vanilla and desperation.
Warning! Warning! his brain blared again. Owen backed away and handed her the striped tote bag that currently held all her possessions. Her car and the rest of her stuff had been abandoned along some highway in Oklahoma. He’d help her reclaim it in the morning. And maybe send her out shopping for some clothes.
“The bathroom is there.” He nodded at the door at the end of the hall. “I’m going to crash now. I’m exhausted.” And he needed to put as much space between his aching balls and the woman who would probably give him the relief he needed if he so much as hinted that he wanted her. Normally he wasn’t the kind of guy who turned down interested pussy, but he didn’t want to mess things up with Caitlyn, and he didn’t want Lindsey to think there could ever be anything more than friendship between them. And potentially parenting.
Shit.
“Good night,” she said, watching him from her doorway as he entered his bedroom and closed the door.
Owen usually slept nude, but seeing as he had a guest, he climbed into bed in his underwear and a T-shirt. Even though he was utterly zonked, he found it impossible to sleep. He kept thinking of all the sexual requests Caitlyn had made over the past few days and wondering how he would ever find the stamina to fulfill all her fantasies. The woman had dozens of them, and she wasn’t shy about sharing her desires with him. He loved that about her. His dick loved that about her. His sleep-deprived brain even loved her openness. But if he didn’t get some sleep soon, he’d be totally useless the next day.
His cellphone, which was charging on the nightstand, dinged with the arrival of a text message. He wasn’t getting any sleep anyway, so he reached for the phone. Caitlyn. Just seeing her name on the display had him rolling onto his belly to squash his hard-on into the mattress.
God, I want you, she’d messaged.
Not half as much as I want you, he responded.
Twice as much, she answered. And then, If I give you permission to masturbate, will you do the same for me?
It was a tempting proposition. If he jerked one out, he could probably sleep, but she’d been torturing him for days. He was glad she was as fucking horny as he was. She deserved the mutual misery.
No. You are not allowed to come until my dick is inside you.
He sent the message and was waiting for a reply when a thud outside his door made his heart race. He wasn’t used to hearing strange noises in his house. Rushed footsteps hurried down the hall and the bathroom door closed. Just Lindsey, he decided.
Caitlyn’s message arrived an instant later. I’d respond with something sexy, but it will just make me hornier.
He laughed softly and sent a reply.
Good night, Caitlyn.
Good night.
Fuck you tomorrow.
She sent him a rude emoticon—a one-finger salute—which drew another soft chuckle from him, and he dropped his phone on the nightstand before rolling onto his back and making a rather impressive tent in the covers.
He tried flattening it with his hand, but that led to touching it, which made him groan softly. The toilet flushed down the hall, water splashed in the sink, the bathroom door creaked slightly, and footsteps came back up the hall. They paused outside his door. He held his breath to be as quiet as possible. What would he do if Lindsey opened the door and found him with his hand trying to push his hard-as-stone dick into his thigh? What would she do? Would she be embarrassed? Try to touch him? Draw him into her sweet mouth and suck him, her hand sliding between his thighs to gently caress his balls?
No, he couldn’t let himself think like that. He didn’t want Lindsey, he wanted Caitlyn. But Caitlyn was so far away and Lindsey was standing right outside his door.
Finally she moved away, crossed the hall, and closed her bedroom door. Owen released a sigh of relief and rolled onto his belly, once again squashing his dick into the mattress. Rocking his hips slightly helped alleviate a bit of his suffering. Thinking about things other than women and all their delightful parts helped even more. Eventually he got his erection under control and drifted to sleep.
He was pulled awake before the sun was up by a strange and haunting noise. His eyes popped open, and he shifted them side to side, as if that could help him see in the dark. Nothing but silence met his ears, so he decided he’d been hearing things and rolled onto his side. He was almost asleep again when he heard the same sound. It was too human to be a wounded animal, but that was what it reminded him of. He listened to Lindsey groan as if she were in excruciating pain. Maybe she’d fallen, or maybe she’d gone into labor.
He untangled his legs from the covers and hopped out of bed, left his room and crossed the hall. He paused outside her door, listening.
“No,” she shouted clearly enough for him to hear her through the closed door. “No, no. Please stop.” She cried out in pain again.
Owen banged on her door. “Lindsey? Are you okay?”
He didn’t hear any further sounds, so he pressed his ear to the door near the hinge, listening. He could hear her breathing—rapid and broken—but she wasn’t moaning anymore. Wasn’t shouting.
“Lindsey?”
“I’m okay,” she
called out. “Just a bad dream.”
“Are you sure?”
