Thrill Me (One Night with Sole Regret Book 9) Read online

  Too soon, she reminded herself as she snuggled closer against his sleeping body, seeking not only warmth but comfort and that scary as hell connection he’d shared with her. Too soon, she reminded herself one last time before she drifted to sleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  Owen rubbed a hand over Caitlyn’s chilled arm and watched the sun rise over the choppy horizon of the bay. Gradually pink and orange gave way to a pale blue sky. Perhaps he should wake her to witness the splendor surrounding them, but Owen needed a moment to collect his thoughts. Last night something had changed between them. He’d seen it in her moonlight-kissed face when he’d made love to her. Owen tried not to let himself get too excited about potential prospects. His heart had been broken so many times in the past, he knew better than to rush this—whatever this was becoming. In the past he’d put himself out there over and over again. Sometimes his efforts would be rewarded with the love he craved, but it never lasted. He got too intense too fast, and the sensible women he always fell for frightened easily. So even though his heart was already all-in, he was going to follow Caitlyn’s advice and wait until she caught up with him before he told her how he felt. But could she ever really catch up with him? He wasn’t sure it was possible.

  Caitlyn took a deep breath when the sun rose high enough to bathe her face in golden brilliance. She shivered and snuggled closer to his warmth. He reached for the edge of the sheet and pulled it around her bare back.

  “Am I really sleeping naked in my backyard?” she murmured groggily.

  “Yep.”

  “And is there really a gorgeous tattooed and pierced hunk plastered to my side?”

  He smiled at her compliment. “Yep.”

  “And is that a spider crawling up my leg?”

  Owen sat up and flicked the offensive arachnid from her ankle.

  “Poisonous?” she asked, calmly.

  “Nope. Wolf spider.”

  She shivered. “I’m chilly,” she said, her gorgeous brown eyes still glassy with sleep.

  He tucked the sheet more closely around her and pulled her into his lap, rubbing her with both hands to warm her.

  “I have a better idea for getting warm,” she said.

  “Go inside?”

  She touched his face, her gaze filled with warmth and affection. “Kiss me.”

  Her taste was sharper in the morning, he noted, but that didn’t stop him from deepening his kiss.

  “Better?” he asked when they drew apart. Personally, he was overheated.

  She nodded. “You know what I wish?”

  His heart thudded, knowing that the woman wished for incredible things that brought indescribable pleasure to his eager body. “What’s that?”

  “That I didn’t have to pee so badly. This is a wonderful way to wake up. I’d like to enjoy it.”

  He chuckled and kissed her nose before tipping her onto her feet. “Nature calls.”

  Struck by her beauty—the tangle of her dark hair, the sheet that covered parts of her curves but not others, and the swollen quality of her recently kissed lips—he sat there and watched her leave the glass gazebo and tiptoe up the sloped yard toward the house.

  “Are you coming?” she called to him.

  He scooped up a wad of discarded clothing and pressed it against his already rising dick before he followed her. The grass was cool and damp beneath his bare feet, and the onshore breeze chilled his naked ass, but he was still on fire.

  “Join me in the shower?” she asked when he followed her into the house.

  He tugged a small leaf from her tangled locks. “Is that on your fantasy list?”

  She grinned. “If it wasn’t, it is now.”

  She had him exhausted, yet clean and satisfied, before breakfast. He was as horny as the next guy, but his stamina did have a few bounds. So when she reached for her fantasy list over a bowl of cereal—to undoubtedly determine what the rest of their day would bring—Owen took it from her and shoved it into his pocket.

  “Let’s go to a museum,” he said.

  She gave him an odd look. “Why?”

  “You said you like them.” And ol’ Charlie doesn’t. “And as much as I enjoy every minute with your naked body, I wouldn’t mind spending time with the clothed version of you.”

  “So the nudist museum is out,” she said.

  He laughed. “Didn’t know there was such a thing, but maybe next time.”

  “Next time.”

  The future promised in her eyes made his heart skip a beat. He pulled his attention back to his bowl of wheat flakes—her idea of cooking breakfast. “So do you like art museums?”

  “I do,” she said, “but my favorites are science museums.”

  He managed not to make a face of displeasure. “Science, huh?”

  She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Art it is,” she said.

  Maybe he wasn’t as good at hiding his disinterest in science as he thought. “We can do science.”

  “We can do both,” she said with a smile. She scooped another bite of cornflakes into her mouth.

  “That might be a bit more of the clothed version of you than I can tolerate at once.”

  She laughed, covering her mouth as she choked on her cereal. He stood to whack her on the back, but she held up a hand to let him know she wasn’t dying.

  When she regained her composure, she said, “You’re so bad, you’re good.”

  “You shouldn’t encourage me.”

  “Why not? I’m in this for the fun and excitement, and the more I encourage you, the more fun and exciting you become.”

  He couldn’t deny that truth, but hoped she’d eventually add a little depth to the superficial relationship she thought she wanted.

  When they later climbed into her Camaro for their day of adventure, he asked, “Where are we going?”

  “Someplace cool,” she said. “You might want to look over that list in your pocket while I drive.” She lifted her eyebrows suggestively. “Maybe we can multitask.”

  “Maybe.”

  The seat belt dug into his shoulder as she shot backward down the drive. She shifted into drive, punched the accelerator, and took off with a squeal of tires that pressed him solidly into the leather seat. While she drove like they’d just robbed a bank in her bay area suburb and planned to escape into the urban center of Houston, Owen slipped the list out of his pocket and refreshed his memory. There were a few they could make work on their adventure today—sex in an elevator being his favorite—but one item caught his attention.

  “You’ve never had sex in a car?” Considering how much she loved to drive like a getaway driver—they had that in common, actually—her back-seat virginity surprised him.

  “Not yet.” She grinned and zoomed along in the fast lane of the interstate until they spotted a state trooper, which effectively removed the lead from her foot.

  Okay, he’d be looking for the opportunity to make that particular fantasy a reality. He peered over his shoulder and decided the proper descriptor for the small back seat was cozy. Not much room back there for a vigorous romp. Maybe they could take his Jeep out for a spin later.

  “Are there any local beaches that allow vehicle traffic?”

  “Uh, Crystal Beach on Bolivar Peninsula. Closer to my house there’s Seaside, but that’s on the Bay, not the Gulf, and I think you need a permit. I don’t go to the beach often.”

  But sex on the beach was on her list.

  “What about Galveston?” Mentioning Galveston made Owen think of Kelly. Maybe if he visited the island with Caitlyn that evening he’d have the opportunity to see his friend. Maybe they could double date. Now that would be fun. Especially if Dawn couldn’t go with them.

  “Not that I know of. You might be able to park on the west end, but there are sea turtle nesting areas, so you can’t just drive wherever you want. I thought you wanted to do the museum thing today.”

  “I do. I was just planning what to do tonight. Gotta fulfill your fantasies somehow.�
� He winked at her.

  “I am so glad I wrote that list.” Seeming to have forgotten about the cop they’d seen earlier, she floored the accelerator to pass several semi-trucks. “I thought showing it to you might be embarrassing, but it actually makes things easier. You know what I want, so I don’t have to fret about telling you.”

  “And I can try to be a little spontaneous, which I hope is more exciting for us than you setting up sex stations in your house.”

  She laughed and coasted to a slower speed again. “Ah God, I’m such a dork.”

  “Charming,” he corrected. She was a bit of a dork, but he found it to be one of her most charming qualities. “You know what you want, and you go after it.”

  “That’s not the dorky part. The dorky part is making a nested list for each one of those fantasies and taking it to a sex shop. I even made place cards for each station, but hid them in a drawer.” She laughed so hard, the car crossed the dotted white line. He reached for the wheel, heart hammering like mad in his chest, but she quickly corrected into her lane. “If you can’t tell, I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to you.”

  He chuckled. “So you thought you’d give micromanagement a try?”

  “Not my best idea!” She blinked tears of mirth out of her eyes and purposely crossed several lanes to merge onto another interstate. Owen had no idea where they were headed. If his memory served correctly, they should have headed due west, not north, to get to Houston’s museum district.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “I thought we were going to a museum.”

  “We are. It’s the coolest museum I know of.”

  Cool and museum didn’t belong in the same sentence, but he was having fun just talking with her while she maneuvered her “divorce therapy” to dodge traffic. And not once that morning had he felt the need to act like a buffoon to make her laugh. They just clicked—and not only in the bedroom. He hoped she recognized how rare that was, and if not, he would be sure to point it out to her.

  They pulled up to a metal fortress of a building surrounded by a chain-link fence. The entire structure was chrome, with exhaust pipes and car grills fashioned into works of art near the roof line. Large cones of metal worked into menacing spikes adorned the roof and surrounded the door frames. If not for the letters cut out of sheet metal that spelled out Art Car Museum in an arch, Owen would never have reckoned the place for a museum.

  “Welcome to the Garage Mahal,” Caitlyn said. She pecked him on the cheek—likely because his mouth was unattractively agape as he stared at the building—and opened her door.

  He was still trying to take in the structure—a work of metal art in itself—when Caitlyn opened his door. “Are you coming?”

  “Nice call, babe. This place is badass.” He pulled out his cellphone to snap a picture. He then pulled Caitlyn against his side and extended his arm to get them in frame for a selfie. He caught little of the building, her blinking, and only half of his face, but it was the memory that was important, not the composition of the picture.

  “Wow,” Caitlyn said, examining the shot he’d taken. “You suck at selfies.”

  “I’d like to see you do better.”

  Her selfie attempt was marginally better if he’d wanted a shot up his nostrils. He didn’t.

  “Oh God, that’s even worse,” she said, laughing at her sidelong expression as she’d been trying to find the right button to push.

  He laughed and hugged her tightly. “You can’t say we don’t have anything but sex in common,” he said. “We both suck at selfies.”

  The museum was free but accepted donations, so Owen offered up a few twenties. The building was smaller than he’d expected. Four art cars were on display, each decorated in very different styles. One reminded him of a futuristic metallic demon. Another had an outlandish alligator theme, complete with stuffed alligators on the hood. A third had been painted by an insanely skilled artist in a brightly colored motif. There were other modern works of art on display as well, and it turned out he and Caitlyn had a similar taste in art. Or at least she claimed to like the same pieces that inspired him. Maybe she was just looking for more common ground. They took a few more selfies—all of which sucked and made them laugh—before returning to Caitlyn’s car.

  “Now we’ll go to a real museum,” she said, “but first—do you like beer?”

  “Who doesn’t like beer?”

  “A lot of people, but I’ll take that as a yes.” She drove a bit off the beaten path to a small silver house. “Beer-can house,” she said, unnecessarily pointing it out as they creeped past. The house was silver because every inch, even the roof, was covered with beer-can tops. A curtain of dangling silver tops hung from the eaves like gaudy icicle lights.

  “The band could decorate the tour bus this way,” Caitlyn said.

  “It wouldn’t take long to collect enough cans.”

  Less than a block past the glittering attraction, Caitlyn pulled to a stop on the side of the road and put the car in park. When he reached for the door handle, she caught his arm. “We don’t need to see the inside,” she said.

  “Then why did you stop?”

  “I had a powerful urge to do this.”

  Her cool fingers slid up the back of his neck to delve into the hair at his nape, and she tugged him close for a kiss.

  Lust heated his blood as he pulled her against him the best he could with a console between them. It had been a few hours since he’d taken her in the shower, and that stamina he’d been concerned about earlier became a nonissue. He wanted her desperately. He found himself tugging her toward the back seat, ready to fulfill her sex-in-a-car fantasy right there on the side of the road.

  “We’d better stop,” she said against his mouth, though her tongue brushed his, prompting his hands to tug at her clothes. He reached for her breast, palming the soft, full globe, and she moaned.

  “Owen,” she murmured. “Not here.”

  “Then where?” He didn’t think he could wait the hour it would take them to return to her house. “Is there a hotel nearby?”

  “My office isn’t far.”

  He had seen that fantasy on her list, but hadn’t expected they’d tackle that one today.

  “Do you want to fuck me on my desk, Owen?”

  He pressed her hand against his stiff cock. “He’s answering for me at the moment.”

  She rubbed him just enough to make his breath catch. “I think he’s saying yes.”

  He always said yes.

  Owen’s hand moved between Caitlyn’s legs. Desire slammed into his gut as the heat coming off of her pussy registered. “Drive,” he growled.

  The short trip to the deserted office building was a blur. She didn’t stop him when he rubbed her mound through her shorts or her tit through her shirt as she drove. She merely moaned encouragement when he kissed her neck and pinched one hard nipple. By the time they stumbled out of the car and she used her key to open the front door of the building, he was about to bust the zipper out of his pants.

  “Is there anyone here?” He followed her into an attractively decorated reception area, lit only by natural light pouring in through a bank of high windows.

  “It’s a Sunday,” she reminded him, “so no.”

  “I think you mean it’s Sinday.” He pushed her up against the back of the door and unfastened her shorts. “I’m going to assume this is your office, because I can’t wait another second.”

  Her shorts dropped to her ankles, and she kicked them aside. He fumbled with her panties while she freed his cock, and then he found her center, sinking deep into her hot, slick flesh. She kissed him desperately, hands pressing into his face, his shoulders, stretching to hold his ass as he fucked her so hard her body shifted up and down the back of the door.

  “Is that your desk?” he asked, lifting her by the ass and turning her to settle on a meticulously kept desk.

  She reclined back and swept her arms
over the surface, sending a stapler, pen cup, and several outboxes tumbling to the floor.

  “Belongs to my partner’s receptionist,” she said breathlessly. “I overheard her in the breakroom talking about me. She said my husband cheated on me because I was a dried-up prude.”

  He snorted. “No clue where she got that idea.”

  She sent a framed picture of the receptionist’s man tumbling to the floor, shattering the glass on impact.

  “Make me come on her desk,” Caitlyn said, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him against her. Her ankles dug into his thighs as he pounded her to her peak. Her cries of release echoed through the cavernous room. He wasn’t finished with her yet, though. They still hadn’t fucked on her desk, and that was why they’d gone there in the first place.

  “Where’s your office?” he asked when her body went slack and she lay sprawled across the surface of the receptionist’s desk trying to catch her breath.

  “Third floor.”

  He probably could have carried her down the hall, but not up two flights of stairs.

  “The elevator is down that way.” She tilted her head toward a corridor.

  “Elevator?” He grinned and scooped her off the desk. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist as he carried her toward the stainless steel doors obscured by shadows in the dark hallway. “Why didn’t you say there was an elevator here?”

  “Sorry. Didn’t know elevators were your thing.”

  “Everything is my thing,” he assured her.