TOUCH ME XXI
1758 Words
“Hey, Jenna,” Caitlyn said as she answered the phone. “What’s up?”
“Where are you? You were supposed to call me to pick you up and the club is closed now. I’ve been worried sick.”
“I’m fine. I decided to leave with someone.”
Owen lifted her hand and kissed her fingertips one at a time. Her belly began to quiver on cue.
“You met someone?” Jenna asked. “Is he nice?”
“Naughty and nice.”
Owen apparently liked that description. He was grinning ear to ear.
“So I won’t be home tonight,” she told Jenna.
Owen made a victory fist and Caitlyn smiled at him. She liked the feeling she got when she made him happy.
“Tell me all about him,” Jenna insisted.
“I will when I see you tomorrow,” Caitlyn said. “We were about to get busy when you so rudely interrupted.”
Jenna laughed. “About time you had some fun.”
“How irresponsible of me. But don’t worry, okay? I’m perfectly fine.”
“Okay.”
“She’s safe with me,” Owen said near the phone. “Well, relatively speaking.”
“Oh,” Jenna said, “he sounds cute.”
“On a scale of one to ten, he’s an eleven.” She winked at Owen. “We’ll talk later.”
“Okay, have a good time. Just be careful.”
“Did you forget that you’re talking to Ms. Responsibility?” Caitlyn said.
Jenna laughed. “Yeah, for a second I did forget.”
Caitlyn ended the call and tucked her phone back into her purse.
“Who was that?” Owen asked. “Or is that not any of my business?”
“That was my friend Jenna. I was supposed to call her for a ride. She was worried.”
“I thought maybe it was your ex-husband. He heard you were getting it on with an eleven in the back of a limo and decided he wanted you back.”
“Screw him,” Caitlyn said and wrapped her arms around Owen’s neck.
“No, screw me.”
“An even better idea.”
Owen held Caitlyn's hand as they rode the elevator to the top floor. Kelly hadn’t stuck around after he’d left the limo. Owen didn’t like that they’d ended the evening with harsh words, but he never liked to be in disagreement with Kelly because if Kelly had a beef with something, there was usually a good reason.
Still, Owen wasn’t sure why Kelly was so interested in his love life all of a sudden. It had never bothered him that Owen kept all interactions with women on a cursory level. He wasn’t sure what was going on in Kelly’s head, but it was a relief that Caitlyn knew the thing Owen hated most about himself and it hadn’t turned her away.
Caitlyn covered her mouth and stifled a yawn. Owen wondered if they'd put some sort of sleeping powder in the cheesecake. Or maybe she wasn’t used to being up so late.
“Are you tired?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Don’t think I’m going to let you sleep when we get to my room.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way to keep me awake,” she said with a smile.
He loved her smile. It made her inquisitive brown eyes crinkle at the corners.
“That sounds like a challenge.”
When the elevator stopped, Owen placed a hand on Caitlyn's lower back and directed her toward his room. He remembered a time when all five members of the band had to share one seedy hotel room. It had been years ago, but they'd been closer then somehow. Of course it was hard not to be close when five guys shared one bathroom, one bottle of whiskey, and a few groupies between them.
Owen opened the door and Caitlyn entered his hotel room without hesitation. She was already comfortable in his presence, trusted him. He wondered how far he could take her tonight. Wondered if she'd stick around after the concert the next night and get to know him even better.
Standing behind her, Owen wrapped his arms around her and unbuttoned the three leather-covered buttons of her tweed jacket. He pulled the garment free and tossed it onto the sofa in the seating area just inside the door.
“Do you always wear suit jackets in the summer?” he asked before planting a gentle kiss on the side of her neck.
“I’m usually indoors, so yeah. Otherwise, I freeze in the AC.”
He didn’t plan on letting her freeze tonight.
She dropped her head to the side, allowing him to explore the silky flesh of her throat with his lips.
“Owen?” His name was like a soft caress on her lips.
“Yes?”
“I feel like I've known you for a long time. Has it really only been a few hours?”
“I know what you mean.” He worked at the knot of fabric at her throat, wanting to sample more of her flesh. “Tell me about your business.”
She hesitated and then lifted her hands to help him untie the bow at her neck. “Now? But what I do isn’t sexy. I want to feel sexy when I’m with you.”
He kissed her ear and lowered his hands to cup her breasts. He squeezed gently. “I always think you're sexy,” he promised. “Especially when you’re telling me about yourself.”
“Like I said, we work on alternative forms of energy. I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m sort of a geek.” She giggled.
“Are you sharing something you thought I didn’t already know?”
She slapped his thigh. “You think I'm a geek?”
“I know you're a geek. I think it's sexy.”
She shook her head. “You're a weird guy, Owen Mitchell.”
“Are you complaining that I think you're sexy?” He reached for the top button of her blouse and unfastened it.
“No. I'm not sure I believe you. What can possibly be sexy about a woman who is more interested in the flow of electrons than she is in her hair?”
“I love your hair.” Thick, black, and lustrously wavy.
“That's because I actually combed it today.”
“And I had a great time messing it up.”
He unfastened another button on her blouse and then another. She seemed content to fall silent as he slowly unbuttoned her shirt and tugged it free of her jeans. He tossed it aside on the sofa as well. His hands moved to cup both breasts, and he kissed the side of her neck until some of the tension left her body. He rubbed his thickening c**k against her sweet ass in case she didn't trust his words. He'd been with a lot of women, but this one pushed every one of his buttons, and he was ready to launch into orbit.
“Cute bra,” he said, watching over her shoulder as his finger traced the lace that bordered a plaid pattern.
“It doesn't match my panties,” she said. “I figured I should warn you.”
“Warn me?”
“That it doesn't match.”
He chuckled. “Why would I care if your bra matches your panties?”
“That’s not sexy either. I didn't think about dressing appropriately for outside the club. I didn't bring a little black dress on the trip, or anything to wear but my business attire, because I don’t own anything but what I wear to work. I simply don't remember how to be sexy for a man.” She looked at him over her shoulder, her eyebrows furled in a most adorable way. “Or maybe I never knew how.” She ducked her head, and he understood how she was feeling. He never felt confident in his s*x appeal either. He was good at pretending, because women responded to a man with self-confidence, even if it was the biggest load of bullshit anyone ever laid on them.
“Caitlyn.”
When she kept her eyes downcast, he circled her body to stand before her. After a moment, he tucked a finger under her chin to force her to look him in the eye. She flushed when their eyes met, but held his gaze.
“What's truly sexy about a woman isn't what she wears. It isn't how much time and attention she spends on her hair. It's not that her bra matches her panties. It's the way she thinks, moves, speaks. That's what's sexy about a woman.”
He could tell by the look on her face that she wasn't buying his lines.
“And why did you pick me at the club?” she asked. “It wasn't because you knew I could think, you had seen how I move, and I hadn't spoken yet.”
“Damn, woman, I'm not used to talking to women as smart as you are. You're supposed to be happy that I want you for more than your fantastic body.”
“But I don't think you're being sincere.”
“Why?”
She shook her head. “I don't know.”
“What do I have to do to prove that I'm sincere? As soon as you stepped out of the dressing room at the club wearing that horrible jacket—”
“See, my jacket is horrible.”
“Let me finish. When I saw you wearing it, I was instantly hard again. I insist that you wear that horrible jacket as much as possible.”
She glanced at the discarded garment on the sofa. “Should I put it back on?”
He chuckled. “No. I like when you wear it in public, not when you’re alone with me. What's so hot about it is that it completely conceals what's beneath. Yet I know what's there. Those guys looking for a woman in a short skirt and tight sweater, they're not giving you a second glance because they're too blind to see how smoking hot you are. I mean look at yourself, Caitlyn. You're a ten.” His gaze traveled down her body, and he made a sound of desperation. “An eleven.”
- Writer
