Page 15 of Fragile Hearts (Hibiscus Hearts #3)

We surf for a couple of hours, but the swell isn’t the best, only catching a few small waves. Then Owen looks over at me, signaling that we should head in.

Paddling in together, we reach the shore and pick up our boards. I love that the house is so close to the water. Not that my place with Alana and Daisy wasn’t, but it wasn’t out the back door like Owen’s place is, and the break here is better too.

“So, where do you want to get lunch?” Owen asks me, and I shrug.

I don’t go out to eat often, the cost being a huge factor, and it always feels wasteful, or I force myself to make two meals out of whatever I order. There’s always this constant fear that I’m going to run out of money or that I’ll lose my job out of nowhere. I hate that feeling.

One day…

“You pick,” Owen presses, but I shake my head. “I’m paying, so get out of your head about cost or whatever you’re doing.” He smiles at me and winks, reading my mind, and there’s something so sweet about it.

“How do you know that’s what I’m doing?” I question, narrowing my eyes as he takes my board, placing it on the rack outside the house.

“You do this thing where you gnaw on your bottom lip when something makes you nervous, like you’re processing it and trying to decide what to do.”

My tongue slips out and wets my lips, and I realize he’s right. I do that every time something makes me uncomfortable, and now I wonder if I should stop doing it, that I’m so transparent that everyone can read what I’m thinking.

“I don’t think you should stop doing it, Sloane,” Owen says, and my mouth falls open. I don’t think I said anything, but here he is, reading my mind again.

“You’re cheeky, you know that?”

“I’ve been called other things, but cheeky is not one of them. I’ll take that as a compliment from you,” he teases, his perfect smile on display. “So, where are we having lunch?”

“Do you want to go near campus so we can just head over when we’re done?” I ask, stalling because I seriously don’t know what to tell him.

Most of the places I like are just little hole-in-the-wall types, and Owen Sinclair is not who I expect to enjoy a dive restaurant, but as I think this, I catch myself.

He’s never once made it obvious just how wealthy he is, working at The Pipe Dream, teaching surf lessons, volunteering to help with the surf school. If anything, he comes across as just your typical local, especially with his lack of a shirt that is his signature.

“How about Bonnie’s Tacos? It’s my favorite. They have the best nachos. Daisy, Alana and I would go and split them after a day on the water.”

“Great. The guys and I go a lot too. Surprised I never saw you there,” Owen says, and I giggle a little, remembering how we walked in once and I walked right back out when I saw him.

God, I was such an asshole to him at times.

“I gotta tell you something,” I say, my cheeks turning warm with my soon-to-be admission. “Once you and the guys were in there, and I made Daisy and Alana leave so you wouldn’t see me.”

Owen puts his hand on his chest, his head falling back as he lets out a groan. “You’re breaking my heart, Sloane. Was I really that bad?” His words are playful, and again he hits me with that smile, his dimple dotting his cheek.

“No. I was just…”

“Scared? Nervous? Worried?”

“All of those things,” I admit. “You’re just so…” I pause, trying to find the right word but failing, and Owen begins to fill them in.

“Handsome? Amazing? Talented?” He laughs after each one, but honestly, they’re all true. He is all of these things and more.

“And humble,” I say, and he slings an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. His lips drop to the top of my head, pressing a soft kiss.

I love the slow build of our relationship, the unrushed feeling and the no pressure he puts on it. He doesn’t have any expectations for me, and the guilt tugs tightly in my stomach.

All my preconceived ideas about Owen Sinclair and why I wouldn’t give him a chance have been proven wrong at every turn.

“So humble,” he adds, making me laugh. “Go get changed, and we’ll head out in a bit. Sound good?”

“Perfect.”

Lunch is great. Class is interesting. And now Owen has dropped me off at his house, needing to head over to the hotel to meet with his dad about something. I’m making dinner. Nothing fancy. Just some spaghetti and garlic bread and waiting for him to get back.

I took Mochi for a walk along the ocean and even got in the water for a bit. I feel like I pretty much live in my swimsuit being this close to the water now. Even Mochi has adjusted well, prancing in the surf and getting his fur wet.

He’s currently napping in his little bed, snoozing away while I cook. I have some music playing, and I begin to sing along, dancing, my hips swaying to the beat.

This house is incredible. The built-in speakers, the gourmet kitchen, and all the appliances are things I could certainly get used to.

I’m already spoiled with my own bathroom and that shower that could literally fit two comfortably.

And now my brain is picturing Owen in there with me, all toned muscles and tanned skin, the water cascading down his body.

My hips begin to move even more, seeking friction that they aren’t going to find, and I’m now thinking about my conversation with Daisy. If she’s right, Owen is going to be unreal in bed, and I can’t help but wonder how the hell that thing is going to fit if it really is twelve inches.

I call out to turn the music up a little as I continue dancing, stirring the pasta as I do and realizing just how much Owen’s house feels like a home, a home I’ve never really had.

Even if it’s not permanent.

The music is blaring, and my hips sway along, my body feeling incredibly needy for some reason, and my thoughts swirl around the idea of Owen and sex and his body and me naked. It’s so easy to get lost in the fantasy when I’m in the house, knowing he’s not here with me.

It bothers me now that I never gave him a chance before this, but then it also feels like I wouldn’t have been ready anyway. That now is the perfect time.

When I turn around, lost in my thoughts, my body moving along with the music, I catch Owen standing there watching me.

“How long have you been standing there?” I ask, not even realizing how calm I feel until a few seconds later. Him being here didn’t startle me. Not even a little. Not even though he came in without me hearing him.

“Long enough,” he murmurs. “Nice shirt.” He lifts his chin in my direction, motioning to the T-shirt I’m wearing, the T-shirt that belongs to him.

“Someone I know just leaves them lying around the house,” I tease, hooking a finger at him. “Come dance with me.”

He doesn’t hesitate, joining me immediately, his hands moving to my hips, his body swaying in time with mine. He holds me in place, our bodies matching the rhythm, his fingers moving lower, grazing the hem of the T-shirt.

“You’ve never looked more gorgeous than you do right now,” Owen murmurs, his mouth next to my ear, his lips skating over the hard beat of the pulse in my throat.

Turning in his arms, my ass presses against his front, moving slowly, and I can feel what it’s doing to him, feel how turned on he is, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t too.

I put my arms up over my head, my hips rocking with the music, Owen’s hands gripping them tightly. Neither one of us says a word, the music playing, his hands on my body, and he begins to slide them under the T-shirt.

With each touch against my skin, I want to moan out his name, the desperation of wanting him taking over. How did I ever stay away from him? How did I ever think I could?

“Sloane,” he says, my name a harsh rasp, and the sound sends a wave of pleasure through me. My thighs clench, my body calling out for more.

Owen’s fingers dance along my stomach, moving higher until they brush against the swell of my breast. My nipples strain against the fabric of my bikini top, oversensitive and begging to be touched.

“You’re wet,” Owen practically groans out, and it takes me a second to realize he isn’t talking about my body but my swimsuit.

But fuck, I am wet. Like ridiculously wet, my bikini bottoms clinging to my skin, and I want to move Owen’s hand between my legs so he can feel what he’s doing to me.

“Mochi and I went for a swim,” I breathe out, my eyes falling closed, Owen’s body flush with mine. Turning, he takes my chin in his fingers, holding me in place, and then he kisses me.

His lips are full of lust and desire, want and need, desperation and compassion, and I have no idea how we’re going to get back to dinner after this.

I want him to take me to his bedroom and fuck me, good and proper, have his way with me, explore my body, and make me come like I’ve never come before. Owen Sinclair has a body that was made for me.

Pulling back, I open my mouth to tell him this, but it’s silenced by the sound of the timer for the damn garlic bread.

“Fucking bread,” I mutter, laughing a little as Owen’s hands leave my body, and I want to cry out in protest.

He steps over to the oven, turning off the timer. He takes the garlic bread out and sets it on the trivet I have waiting.

Both our chests are heaving, and I watch as Owen adjusts himself, his hard-on straining against the laces of his boardshorts.

I don’t realize I’m doing it until Owen says, “What’s that smirk for, gorgeous?”

“Nothing,” I immediately reply, giggling as I shake my head.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“Just daydreaming about what’s under those boardshorts,” I admit, my heartbeat speeding up, my breathing uneven and ragged. “Rumor is it’s quite a sight.”

“Is that true?”

“I don’t know. You tell me,” I flirt back, my mouth opening slightly as I run my tongue over the back of my teeth.

“Never had any complaints,” he says, winking at me. “Hopefully you’re not the first.”

This conversation has my center throbbing, and after what I felt pressed against my ass, I’m pretty sure Daisy is right. My thighs squeeze together in this desperate and needy way, wondering if my body will be able to take him.

And I can’t wait to find out.

“Think maybe we should eat dinner?” Owen now asks, and this guy is a master at avoiding what I really want. It’s going to be me who initiates it, and fuck me, I want it right now.

“Maybe you want dessert first?” I ask, wetting my lips, and I can’t even believe I’m doing what Daisy told me to and what was going down in my dirty dream. “Something sweet and wet…”

I let out a hard breath, swallowing hard, my body no longer my own. It belongs to Owen Sinclair, and I want him to fucking take me.

“Fuck, Sloane, that offer,” he says, dragging a hand through his hair, but he shakes his head. “Not tonight. I want everything to be perfect, and here in this kitchen with a pot of pasta boiling, it’s not.”

“Owen, you suck,” I wail, my head falling back, my body angry at me and telling me to go find that stupid sucky ducky again.

“I’m hoping that later, I find out how you suck,” he tells me, swatting me hard on the ass as he walks by.

Taking the pot from the stove, he drains it, and I let out another hard breath, giving in to helping him finish up dinner.

Plating our food, I carry it out to the deck and sit down at the little bistro table. Mochi’s following behind Owen as he brings a bottle of wine.

“Everything okay with your dad?” I ask when we’re both seated, trying to change the subject since all my body wants to think about is Owen naked.

He’s probably right that we need to take things slow. The last relationship I was in was when I was seventeen, and I don’t even think it counts. He was a dick who knew I was easy.

After that, it’s all just been random hook-ups to scratch an itch. Owen is none of those things, and I want him to know that. He’s perfect and wonderful, and I want to be able to give myself to him fully.

“Yeah, all good. So you know how they’re opening Orchid Bay Lux on Lanai?”

I nod, swirling my fork around on the plate with a pile of pasta. “I’ve heard it’s going to be like nothing else they’ve built.”

“Next weekend is its soft opening. My parents do this thing where they invite the media and family and friends, some influencers and things like that, and do a soft opening. Like people come and stay there, and my parents get an idea of how it’s running and what needs to change.”

“That’s really cool.”

“Yeah, and I want you to go with me,” Owen now says, and I nearly drop my fork.

“What?”

“I want you to come with me and stay the weekend. Like I said, my family goes.” He’s looking at me, his eyes dark with sincerity as he waits for me to respond.

“Like go to Lanai? I have to work.” It comes out quickly because I’ve never been asked to do something like this. I haven’t left the island, well, ever.

Owen laughs. “You don’t have to work. My mom gave you the weekend off because she wants you to come too.”

“Owen,” I croon, completely overwhelmed with gratitude.

“Just say yes, Sloane.”