Page 9 of Fragile Hearts (Hibiscus Hearts #3)

I’m making dinner when Owen comes in. Meeting me in the kitchen, he wraps his arms around my waist, his warm breath caressing my neck, his lips pressing softly against my skin.

He pushes my hair to the side, his mouth sucking now, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin below my ear, causing a moan to fall from my lips.

“How was your day, gorgeous?” he murmurs, and his voice makes my knees go weak. The low timbre vibrates through me, sending sparks through my already buzzing body.

“Better now that you’re here,” I whisper back, and my voice doesn’t sound like my own. “Are you hungry?”

He growls possessively, and my thighs clench in response.

I have no idea how we even got here, but I’m not about to stop it.

My panties are soaked, my mind moving to all the things we could do in this kitchen.

Shit, it’s been a long time since I had sex, and if I’m being honest, I’m not even sure I’ve ever had good sex.

It’s always just been the kind that was rushed or fumbled; teenagers rolling around in the backseat of a car, in a random bedroom at a party. It was nothing like this, and my body craves this, wants this like air, and I turn in his arms.

“Hungry for you,” he hisses, his teeth clenched as if he’s trying hard to control himself, and I love that he’s like this for me.

Before I know it, I’m naked in front of him, my back against the counter, my leg hooked over his shoulder as he kneels in front of me.

His mouth trails up the inside of my thigh, each touch is warm and wet, and I find myself begging for more. My hips move of their own accord, trying to find friction but failing, and I cry out with desperation, waiting for Owen’s mouth.

“Tell me what you want,” he growls, looking up at me, his green eyes deep and his lids heavy. His hands grip my thighs, spreading them wider.

I hear myself tell him, and again, I have no idea who this person is. Her words don’t match anything that would ever come out of my mouth.

“I want you to eat my sweet pussy. I want to come all over your mouth.” Each word is said with intent and need.

And with that, Owen’s mouth is on me, my head falling back, loud moans leaving my lips on every exhale.

His tongue works me over, lapping at my clit, my body no longer my own. I’ve given myself over to him fully, and when he slides a finger inside me, hooking in the exact spot I need…

I shoot up in bed, my heart pounding, my body covered with sweat, and I curse out loud. I woke up just when it was about to get good.

“Fuck,” I mutter, wiping the sweat from my palms on the sheets.

That was so inappropriate it’s not even funny. I know how Owen feels about me, and those simple kisses to my fingers yesterday have set my body into a tailspin.

Crossing the line with Owen is only going to make this roommate thing really awkward, especially if it never turns into anything more. We can’t just hook up and then act like it didn’t happen, and we certainly can’t be in a relationship together.

But holy shit, that dream was epic. And if he’s that good in my dreams, I can’t even imagine what he’d be like in real life. I didn’t even get a chance to finish, and my panties are embarrassingly drenched from a dream.

I pull open the drawer to the nightstand, taking out that little device Alana gifted me after a breakup with a guy who refused to do anything but missionary position. It’s one of those things that lick and suck, and it’s going to have to do because I’m a mess right now.

After my battery-operated morning in the shower, I’m dressed, and the house is quiet. Today is the housewarming party that Owen suggested we throw, but I think he was just looking for an excuse to have a party.

I’m off work, and since it’s a Saturday, neither Owen nor I have class. I’m sure he’s out on the water already this morning, and I poke my head out the back door to see his surfboard gone.

Mochi’s curled up on a little bed that Owen bought him out on the screened-in porch, loving being outside and loving to wake up early with Owen.

I’ve been leaving my door cracked open so Mochi can come and go, and as soon as I see Mochi here by the door, I realize Owen may have heard me this morning.

I really fucking hope I didn’t call out his name during my pornographic dream. He would have heard me for sure, and I scan my memory, trying to remember everything I said.

“Oh god,” I moan, my hands over my face, and it’s possible I said these same words just a little while ago.

I open the fridge, checking to see if there’s anything we need, and it looks as if Owen already went to the store this morning. It’s packed with fruit and beer, burgers and some salads. He didn’t even wait for me to help out, not that I should be surprised, but I am.

“Mochi,” I call, talking to the dog like he can understand every word I say. His head tilts as I speak. “Where’s Owen? Out surfing? Can you believe he bought everything for the party?” Mochi barks, spinning around, and I scoop him up.

I kiss Mochi’s head before putting him back down and letting him know I’m going to run to the store.

The other day at work, Owen’s mom mentioned how much Owen loves these malasadas from this bakery, and even though he doesn’t know I had a dirty dream about him, I feel like I need to either thank him or apologize.

What better way to do that than with his favorite donut?

When I walk in, Owen is in the kitchen now, and my mind instantly flashes to my dream. I need to stop picturing Owen on his knees in front of me.

His hair is wet, and he’s shirtless. I think he’s shirtless more than anything, with it always tossed over his shoulder or tucked into the waistband of his boardshorts.

“Hey,” I say, and he turns around, a smile on his face, that dimple appearing as his smile widens. “I brought you a surprise.”

He pauses for a second, swallowing hard, his cheeks flushing a little, and all I can think is that he did hear me this morning.

“I hope the surprise is you,” he now says, but his words are quiet, and his cheeks redden even more. It’s so adorable and sweet how he’s flirting with me, but he’s also nervous.

“It’s not me, cheeky boy.” With the box in my hand, I meet him at the counter. Setting it down, I open it. “It’s malasadas from Harriette’s. Your mom told me they’re your favorite.”

“Taking notes on what I like?”

“Maybe.” I smile at him, shy and simple, trying not to think about him naked, but my mind is feeling extra dirty today.

“Knock, knock!” a voice calls, and Miles walks in from the back porch carrying a case of beer in one hand and a bag of ice tucked under his arm. “Let’s get this party started.”

Behind him is Kai, and as he walks in, with him comes his usual smell of surf wax and weed.

He’s pretty much the epitome of the laid-back, slacker surfer.

In a way, it’s kind of cute. He snags plenty of girls here on vacation with it.

Teaches them to surf, sleeps with them, and leaves them with a great story.

Daisy comes in a few seconds later, a bucket of margarita mix and a bottle of tequila. She sets it on the counter, and as soon as Miles sees her, he heads back outside onto the porch.

“Want to see my room?” I ask Daisy. She hasn’t been here since I moved in, so I guess it does make sense to have a housewarming party.

“Come on,” I add, taking her by the wrist and tugging her in the direction of the hallway.

It’s more to just get her away from Owen so I can tell her about my dream. “I’ve got it all set up.”

“Yeah, sure,” she says, giving me a funny look, but she follows me anyway.

“I have my own bathroom,” I tell her, pointing to it as we pass, and while it connects to my bedroom, it also has a door to the hallway. “And that’s Owen’s room, and here’s mine. I have this?—”

“Okay, you can shut it now,” Daisy says, laughing, her foot pushing my door closed a little. “Tell me you’re having sex with sexy Owen Sinclair. And if you’re not, why the hell aren’t you?”

“Oh my god, Daisy, no I’m not. He’s my roommate.”

She lets out a laugh, shaking her head. “That shouldn’t stop you. Come on. He’s rich. He looks fucking unreal with his shirt off, and I’m sure he has a huge dick.”

“What?” I spit out, the shock echoing through the bedroom and probably making its way out to the kitchen too. “How the hell do you know that?”

“Once when we were in high school, he lost a bet to Miles and had to wear this speedo to school and run through the common area. The damn thing could barely contain him,” Daisy says, her hands forming into two fists that she places in front of her crotch.

I burst out laughing at her lewd gesture, and she pretends to jerk off, which only makes me laugh harder. Tears streaming down my cheeks.

“He was very popular with the ladies after that,” she adds. “But I know for a fact, there’s only one that he wants, and I’m not sure why she’s holding out.”

“I have to tell you something,” I say, my words quieter this time. For all I know, he’s standing outside the door listening to us.

“Please tell me you were lying earlier when you said you haven’t slept with him,” she says way too enthusiastically.

“I think you need to get laid, Daisy. You are far too interested in my sex life,” I tease, and she rolls her eyes. “Why don’t you see if Miles wants to meet you in my bathroom? The shower is huge.”

“Miles and I aren’t talking, you know that,” she counters, letting out a hard sigh. “He’s pissed at me because Isaac and I are talking again.”

“Daisy, what the fuck?” I demand, glaring at her. We go back and forth on this, Alana and I telling her he’s trash, but she can’t seem to quit him.

“Ugh, Sloane, this isn’t about me, remember? You dragged me in here to tell me about your dirty dream that involves Owen and his twelve-inch cock.”

“Is it really twelve inches?” I ask with hesitation, my mouth curling up in fear. How the hell does a twelve-inch dick fit…fit anywhere?

“I don’t know,” she replies, rolling her hand so I speed up the story. We keep getting derailed.

“So, yeah, this morning I had a really dirty dream about Owen, and holy shit, it felt so real.”

“Details. Now,” Daisy orders, and I laugh, but she’s not laughing. She’s waiting for me to spill it all.

“I was making dinner, and he came in the house, and suddenly I was naked, and he was…” I trail off, my cheeks growing hot as I think back on the dream.

“He was what?” Her words come out loud and hilariously desperate.

I start laughing, and while she tries to control herself, she can’t. Laughter spills from her too, and I try my best to get the rest out through the giggles and tears.

“He was on his knees, and in my dream, he gave the best oral sex I’ve ever had in my life. But you wanna hear the worst part?”

“There’s a bad part to this?” Daisy splutters out, still trying to cover up her laughter.

“I woke up before I came,” I wail. “It was brutal. I had to use that little sucky ducky that Alana gave me.” I pout, and Daisy laughs again.

“You know what you gotta do?” she says, her hands on her hips, her eyes focused intently on mine.

“No, what?”

“You gotta offer your cat to Owen Sinclair for dessert tonight.” Daisy spits it all out quickly, so quickly that I almost miss what she says.

My brain catches back up, and for a split second, I almost agree with her.

“No, never.” The words leave my mouth in as equal a rush as hers did. Shaking my head, but Daisy is nodding hers.

“Twelve. Inch. Dick.”

That’s all she says, holding up her hand to mimic the length.

She’s lost her damn mind.

And I think I have too.