Page 52 of Wish You Were Mine (Kings of Eden Falls #3)

That earned me a groan—a deep, rumbling sound from his chest that vibrated against mine—and the next kiss he gave me was rougher around the edges. Less controlled. Like something inside him was on the verge of snapping loose.

I slid my hand up the center of his chest, fingers brushing the crisp fabric of his button-up until I reached the knot of his tie. With a teasing smile, I hooked two fingers beneath it and gave it a slow, deliberate tug to loosen it.

“The sexy professor is officially off duty,” I murmured. “You don’t need this anymore.”

His mouth curved against mine in a low chuckle. “Fine by me.”

And then he kissed me again—deeper this time. Hotter. His tongue slid against mine in a slow, sensual rhythm that made my stomach twist and tighten, heat blooming low and warm in my core.

My hips shifted instinctively, pressing more fully into him, every inch of me aching to be closer.

And then he moved.

With a smooth, fluid motion, he rolled us gently onto our sides, his arm cradling me as my back pressed into the cushions. Our legs tangled together, bodies flushed, my chest pressed tightly to his.

And I suddenly wasn’t sure where I ended and he began.

His hand skimmed farther up beneath my shirt, warm against my bare skin, rough fingertips exploring the ridges of my ribs. I gasped softly at the touch, and he pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark with something that made my breath catch.

“Is this okay?” he murmured, his voice low, like he was barely holding on to whatever restraint he had left.

“Yes.” I nodded, barely finding my voice. “More than okay.”

He could touch me anywhere and I’d literally be just fine with it.

Want it, actually.

His mouth claimed mine again, more urgently this time, more needy. One hand cupped the back of my neck, tilting my face to his as the kiss deepened, then slowed, then deepened again. Like he was savoring it.

Savoring me. Every soft sound I made. Every subtle shift of my body into his.

I moved instinctively, hooking one leg over his hip as our bodies locked together. His fingers dug into my waist, anchoring me to him, like he didn’t want to let me go for even a second.

Heat curled low inside me as I reached for the hem of his shirt, untucking it with slow, deliberate fingers. I slid my hand underneath, brushing over the hard lines of his stomach and ribs—nothing but muscle and heat and barely leashed tension. He was a work of art.

One I wouldn’t mind studying a little more closely.

Especially to see if my memory from the hot tub held up.

My hand slid higher, palm landing flat over his chest right where his heart pounded hard and fast beneath my touch.

“Your heart’s racing,” I whispered.

He glanced down then looked up at me, his eyes a little dazed. “Kind of hard to stay calm with such a beautiful girl wrapped around me like this.”

I smiled, then reached for his hand, guiding it to my chest and placing it gently over my own heart. “Mine’s going just as fast.”

He stilled.

His gaze dropped to where our hands rested, his palm warming my skin. And for a breathless moment, he just stayed there—like he was trying to anchor himself to the beat beneath his hand.

Then his fingers twitched, moving ever so slightly to graze along the neckline of my blouse.

Just enough to let me know he might be thinking about exploring more than just my heartbeat.

“Lucy…” he said, my name low and rough, like it physically ached to hold back.

Like restraint was slipping with every second.

“Owen…” I breathed, dragging my nails down the sculpted line of his back, tracing the dip between his shoulder blades.

I wanted more.

More of him against me.

More of his skin on mine.

He might’ve been playing the gentleman tonight… But I wasn’t sure I wanted to be that good anymore .

So I reached for his buttons, undoing them one by one, my fingertips grazing the warm skin of his torso as the tension between us thickened.

“I want this off,” I whispered, my voice low and sure as he watched me slowly undress him.

As if he’d just been waiting for permission, he didn’t hesitate—just shrugged out of the shirt, tugged it down over his broad shoulders, and tossed it aside.

My breath caught.

Yeah…he was definitely a work of art.

All hard muscle and golden skin, like he’d been carved from pure temptation and somehow didn’t even know it.

And when his mouth found mine again, there was nothing careful about it.

It was messy.

Breathless.

Wild.

Like every stolen glance across the lecture hall, every brush of his hand against mine, every night we’d spent pretending this wasn’t real had finally broken open something neither of us could hold back anymore.

Something we couldn’t close again.

My palms slid along the curves of his shoulders, squeezing his biceps, and I felt him shudder beneath my touch.

“Lucy…” he whispered again.

And this time, it didn’t just sound like my name.

It sounded like a plea.

Like he was right on the edge of falling.

He kissed along the line of my collarbone, breath hot against my skin, and I tilted my head back, giving him more space to explore. And when his lips found a spot just a little lower, I couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped. Because it felt just too good…made everything else disappear .

The rules. The risk. The consequences.

All that mattered was this moment and the way he made me feel—the undeniable way we fit together perfectly.

My hands threaded into his hair, tugging just a little as I pulled him back to my mouth. And the way he kissed me then…I could get so lost in him.

I wanted to.

And that scared me more than I wanted to admit.

Because I’d never felt seen the way Owen saw me. So wanted.

And the temptation to keep going—to feel more and give him everything—was so strong I had to will myself to breathe.

But I couldn’t breathe.

So I pulled back, just enough to press my forehead to his and draw in a steady breath.

We were both panting, chests rising and falling like we’d just run a race.

A race that could take us somewhere we might not be quite ready for.

Was I ready for more?

I wasn’t sure.

It had been a long time since I’d felt safe enough to even ask myself that question.

But maybe...

If things kept going the way they had been—if he kept being Owen, steady and patient and real—we might get there.

And the thought of that didn’t scare me the way it might have a month ago.

In fact, it felt kind of...inevitable.

Because sharing that part of myself with him—when I was ready—would be something sacred. Something special.

Because that was who Owen was .

I drew in another breath and looked down, my gaze catching on where my hands rested on his bare chest.

I exhaled slowly, grounding myself in his warmth. In his steady breathing. In the soft rasp of his fingers still drifting along my back.

And that was when I really saw it.

The tattoo—two eagles, one smaller than the other, wings outstretched as they soared toward the edge of a solar eclipse.

The moon was swallowing the sun, a dim halo of light outlining the shadow. Stark. Haunting. And beautiful.

I reached up slowly, my fingers brushing along the shaded curve of a feather that had broken free.

“What does your tattoo represent?” I asked softly. Because knowing how intentional Owen was, it had to mean something. This striking tattoo had to have a deep meaning to him.

He hesitated, swallowed. Then his gaze found mine and held it.

“It’s for my dad and my sister,” he said, vulnerability etched in his voice.

“The eagles are them…still fighting to fly, even as the light faded.” There was a slight hitch in his voice as he added, “I got it shortly after we lost them. As a reminder that they’ll always be in my heart.

Even if they were taken from us too soon. ”

I blinked against the sudden sting behind my eyes and slid my hand down his chest, right over his heart. “That’s a beautiful tribute.”

His throat worked as he swallowed, and for a second, all I could do was watch him, completely undone by this sweet, tenderhearted man.

“You care so much,” I whispered. “Feel things deeply. I love that about you.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face.

“You love with all of you,” I added, my voice steadier now. “Deep and true. I can feel it in the way you talk about them…”

Maybe even in the way you are looking at me right now.

Did Owen love me?

No. Probably not—not yet. This thing between us was still so new.

But when his hand came up to cradle the back of my head, his thumb brushing lightly along my cheek like he didn’t quite know how to say what he was feeling…it made me wonder if he was getting close.

And that thought?

It made something in my chest go quiet and full at the same time.

Because I was already on my way there.

To loving this man I wasn’t supposed to fall for.

He kissed me again and I kissed him back, pouring every beat of my heart into it.

I let my fingers trail over his tattoo again, tracing not just the shape of the ink but everything it stood for. His losses. His loyalty. The way he gave himself so completely when he let someone in.

And all I could think was how beautiful it would be to be loved like that by Owen Park one day.