Page 52 of Edged
First, I was hit with a shock of panic that had me bolting upright. He’d left me. I should have known. But then I remembered Owen was in California because I’d brought him here, and while I wouldn’t put it past him to book himself a commercial flight home to get away from me, I didn’t think that was what had happened.
The smell of coffee coming from the kitchen confirmed he was still in the house, and I headed that way, shoving my hair back from my sleep-crusted eyes. I found Owen in the kitchen, wearing nothing more than all of his tattoos and an indecently tight pair of underwear that hugged his ass the wayIwanted to.
Owen was slim and tanned, hardly muscular but far from soft. He had the body of someone who kept themselves busy, but not at the gym. I wondered how he spent his free time, what his friends were like, what he did on the weekends when he wasn’t indulging my whims and wants. He hadn’t heard me, so I studied his back, the flaring planes of his shoulder blades and how they jutted out from his spine like wings. The way when he breathed in deep, I could see the outline of his ribs, and how when he exhaled, it looked like the weight of the world on his back.
I wondered if he regretted me again.
Still.
“Good morning,” I finally said.
He didn’t startle, leading me to believe he’d been aware of my presence after all. Instead, he glanced at me over his shoulder, curled and dyed hair falling into his eyes.
“I used the last of your oat milk for creamer,” he said.
“That’s fine.” I took a step toward him. “I drink mine black anyway. That’s for Flynn.”
“Who’s Flynn?” Owen looked back toward the window in front of him. Another deep breath, another count of his ribs while he held the air in his lungs.
“Ask me what you meant to ask me.”
“Is he a boyfriend? An ex?”
“He’s my best friend,” I said. “Well, one of them.”
Owen turned to face me, resting his ass against the counter. He had a cup of coffee in his hands, and on the counter behind him sat the empty oat milk container and my can of spray cheese. My eyes flickered across both objects and quickly back to his face.
“How many best friends do you have?” he asked.
“Four.”
“Do they know about me?”
It was too early for the conversation he was trying to have.
“Can I have some coffee before we talk about this?” I murmured, taking a couple more steps toward Owen.
He sidestepped and reached behind him, grabbing a mug of coffee that he’d already poured and passing it off to me. “I was going to bring them back to bed,” he said softly, cheeks flushing.
“Do you want to go sit on the couch?” I asked.
He nodded, shuffling toward the living room, but not before grabbing the canned cheese in his free hand.
“Don’t think we aren’t going to talk about this,” he said, tucking it under his arm.
I followed him to the couch and watched the careful way he folded himself down onto the cushion, tucking one leg under his ass and letting the other stretch out in front of him. He set the cheese on the coffee table, then angled his body toward me. His face was expectant, all wide and dark eyes with that soft and sleepy mouth, lips barely parted. I bet he tasted like cum and coffee and me.
“They know you’re here,” I said.
“Sounds like there’s a but coming.”
“Before last week, they didn’t know a thing about you,” I took a sip of coffee to ready myself for the questioning.
“Should I be offended?” Owen eyed me over the rim of the mug before taking a long drink.
“I didn’t keep it to myself because I was ashamed of you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Why then?” he asked.
