Page 39 of Owen (Blue Team #1)

“Nat.”

The groan felt like it originated in my gut and slithered its way up my chest. The sound was low and deep and even to my own ears, it sounded foreign.

Natasha lifted her head and the first thing I caught was her feisty smile. Thankfully, I’d seen a lot of those smiles over the last six weeks since we’d been home.

The first week had been hell. Natasha had woken up every night with nightmares.

Not of her killing Wilco—of her going to jail.

She’d been petrified someone was going to come arrest her.

Then she got official word from Cruz that the FBI had been in constant contact with the Montana authorities and Wilco’s death had been ruled justifiable homicide or death by self-defense.

After Cruz had given her the good news she relaxed, but she was still keyed up. That was until Tex had worked his magic and a brand-new driver’s license and birth certificate came in the mail.

She was officially Natasha Cullen.

When Nat saw her new identity she laughed her ass off.

I didn’t .

All I could focus on was how much I liked her having my last name, and how that came about, no matter how much I liked it, left a hole in my heart.

I wanted her to take my last name because she was my wife not because Tex was being a funny guy.

Though I figured the man knew what he was doing because it’d lit a fire under my ass.

The next day I went out and bought a ring. Nat didn’t know it yet, but one day soon she’d become Natasha Cullen for real.

After that, we fell back into our routine.

I went to work and she did her thing. The only thing that had changed was when I came home from work I got to pull her into my arms and kiss her breathless.

And after we ate dinner, watched TV, or alternately went out to dinner or hung with the guys, we always ended up in my bed and I left Nat another kind of breathless.

She’d told me while we were in Idaho she was living in a dreamland. Now, back in Maryland, I was living my own version of the fantasy. Only mine was better because it was real. Day in and day out I was with Nat. Every day I learned something new. Every day I fell more in love.

“Owen,” she whined. “I liked what I was doing.”

My hands on her hips tightened, then they started to wander up her waist, over her ribs, and finally, they reached their destination.

Nat’s back arched as I weighed her full breasts in my palms. Thanking the universe it hadn’t taken her long to heal.

Not for me, for her. She had to live with those fourteen hours and I hated she bore the bruises.

But they’d all faded. Though those hours were seared into my memory; I chose not to let them infest our life.

She was alive.

She was safe.

She was here.

She was mine .

The here and now. That was where we lived and I took great pains to make sure she didn’t slip back into the past.

“Need you to look at me, baby.”

“Can’t I do that and ride at the same time?” she complained.

No, she could not. I needed to concentrate, and her sliding her tight, wet, warm pussy over my cock was not conducive to having an important conversation.

“I was so close,” she continued.

And she was. I’d felt her pussy start to spasm—that was why I’d stopped her.

Nat’s nails dug into my chest as she lifted herself up and slammed back down.

“So, close,” she reiterated and swiveled her hips.

“Nat,” I growled. “Baby, I need you to stop a second.”

“Can’t.”

She could, she just didn’t want to and I understood why.

The sex had only gotten better between us and it was pretty fucking phenomenal when it started.

But as her confidence grew Nat took it to a whole new level.

She was wild as fuck, but that wasn’t what made it good.

It wasn’t even her begging for me to talk dirty to her, something I was more than happy to oblige.

It was because every touch, every word, every kiss, nibble, bite, glide, and moan was shrouded in love.

Straight-to-your-soul adoration.

The kind that had no end. It would go on forever, linger after we were both dead.

“Natasha,” I grunted.

My hips bucked up to meet her downward slide and it was too late. I was too close. I’d have to have our conversation when we were done.

“You got two seconds to bring it home, baby,” I warned.

“I’m almost there,” she groaned.

I didn’t ask her what she needed because I knew .

“Lean forward.”

Her whole body shuddered and her hooded eyes hit mine.

“Not yet.”

“Now, baby, I need to freshen your mark.”

“But—”

I smacked Nat’s ass. She jolted forward and on a long, loud purr she did as I asked.

No sooner had I sank my teeth in my woman’s flesh, her pussy convulsed and tightened. Her climax detonated mine, and together we drifted into oblivion.

Sweet relief ripped through me fast and furious. Pure bliss.

Out of this world.

Every damn time.

“I love you something fierce, Owen Cullen. It’s so big and so epic I can’t tell you how much I love you.”

My tongue soothed the new mark I’d left, then my lips brushed over it.

Something I did often, whenever the mark started to fade.

Something Nat had insisted never went away.

She said she liked looking at it, liked touching it, liked knowing I gave it to her.

So like everything else, I gave my woman what she wanted.

“You’re making things easy on me,” I said and turned my head to press a kiss to her throat.

Without having to look, my right arm reached out and I tagged the box off my nightstand, flipped it open, and plucked the ring free.

“Marry me?” I whispered.

“What?”

Natasha shot up so fast her tits bounced and momentarily I forgot what I was doing. Maybe this was not a good plan. Maybe I should’ve waited until she was fully dressed, not straddling my lap with my still-hard cock inside her.

“Marry me, baby. Become Natasha Cullen for real. Be my wife. ”

“Thank you.”

“Nat—”

“Thank you for saving me. Thank you for forgiving me. Thank you for giving me a home and sneakers and jeans and pretty dresses and shoes—”

“Nat—”

“Thank you for loving me, but mostly thank you for letting me love you.”

“Is that a yes?”

Natasha stared down at me with her pretty green eyes sparkling and at that moment I hoped she gave me five beautiful little girls all with her eyes and shiny hair. Little girls that I could spoil and she could love.

“Yes. That’s a huge yes.”

“Then you’re welcome.”

It took me a moment to pry her fingers off my chest and slide her ring on and when I did, swear to Christ the look on her face erased every minute of those fourteen hours.

Rapture.

The sweetest of smiles.

“Thank you for my beautiful ring.”

“Stop thanking me,” I groused.

“Thank you for making me so happy.”

“One more, woman, and you’ll find yourself—”

“Thank you for being—”

Natasha didn’t finish. She did squeal when I flipped her over. And she definitely moaned when I made love to her. And she absolutely screamed her orgasm.

What she did not do was thank me again.