Page 51 of Stud

“You’re welcome. See you at soccer this week.”

Owen crouched beside me and cupped my cheek, all his rugged handsomeness showering me with concern. “How you feeling?”

“Pathetically weak and embarrassed that something so lame reduced me to a panic attack.”

“Nothing to be ashamed of, doll. Just wish it hadn’t happened.”

“You and me both. Actually…I’m still feeling drained. I might need a full fireman carry out to my car.”

Dropping his head forward, he chuckled. “Think I can manage that. Up with you, then.” True to my silly request, Owen slung me over his shoulder, turning sideways to avoid smacking my head into the wall.

I draped myself over him like a cheap dress and copped a feel of his jean-clad behind. “Next time we do this, you need to wear those fire pants and suspenders and no shirt, and oh…I’ll smear charcoal all over you.”

“Not on your life.”

“What if role playing turns me on?”

I could sense him smiling. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

“You and your brother are no fun.” I bumped against his back as he carried me to my car.

Gently, he lifted me up and over him, setting my feet on the pavement. “You want to come over tonight?”

Although we’d escaped certain death, tension still radiating from him, a point in his jaw ticking. Something felt off. Like it had while in the Evil Bathroom.

Owen had stiffened before Emmett cut our conversation short, poking my intuition that he had more to hide. Intuition I’d vowed wouldn’t fail me again. But his tension was likely due to my claustrophobia display, and my distrust issues were surely messing with my mind. That must be it. Owen couldn’t fake his sweet nature. He was a gentleman at his core. Kind. Courteous. Thoughtful. Sexy as a sweat-slicked cowboy drenched in sunset.

If I was going to move past Brandon’s betrayal, I’d have to start with trust.

A rush of nerves fluttered through my belly. “I’ll shower and meet you there.”

Fourteen

Seven letters for the surge of an electrical current in one direction. Or giving into desire even though warning bells ring in your ears.

I M P U L S E

Ainsley

Apparently Owen lived in a garage. At least, that’s where my GPS led me. A large steel door was open, light streaming out, along with old jazz tunes. Tools and a few pieces of furniture filled the stain-splattered space. The corrugated walls were rusted in spots, the concrete floors cracked. It had a vintage vibe to it. Classic, like something you’d see in a greaser movie.

It also housed a brawny man who was bending over a plank of wood, teasing me with his taut derrière.

“Did you pay extra for the view?”

He stood and twisted toward me, eyebrows pinched. “View?”

I gave him my best sleazy-stalker eyes as I focused on his lower half. “It’s definitely nicer than at my place.” This I could do. Flirt and joke as usual. Find our familiar rhythm and forget the conflict on his face at my car, the unease still gnawing at my gut.

Smirking, he dropped the sandpaper on his work-in-progress and smacked his dusty hands on his jeans, a stupid sexy move. He took long strides to reach me. “The view just got a hell of a lot better. Not sure they could put a price on it.”

This man was some kind of dangerous. “Aren’t you a charmer?”

“I’m honest.” He proved his point with his lips on mine, his hot breath filling my chest. The kiss was slow and deep, more intimate than our desperate necking in the Evil Bathroom. Our tongues pirouetted in a perfect ballet duet.

Hopefully we weren’t performing Romeo and Juliet.

His huge hands caressed my back as he rolled his hips into me, showing me how turned on he was. The Hugo Boss Package was indeed large. A solid line of granite jutting into my belly. “You make it hard to breathe,” he murmured.