Thrill Me (One Night with Sole Regret Book 9) Page 6

  She shimmied her shoulders. “Who raised a rock star.”

  “And a war hero,” Owen reminded her. That was far more important in his book.

  At the end of the block, they stopped before a large gray house surrounded by a sturdy wooden fence. Dad said it was to keep kids out of his yard, but it was really there to keep the dogs in the yard.

  Hawn, the family’s golden retriever and who-knew-what mix, began to bounce excitedly at the gate, barking a friendly greeting at him.

  “I probably should have asked if you like dogs before I brought you here,” Owen said, reaching over the gate to give Hawn a vigorous rub on her furry neck.

  “I love dogs,” Lindsey said, holding out her hand for a sniff. It was soon covered in dog spit as Hawn immediately accepted Lindsey as a friend. Of course, Hawn accepted every decent person as a friend.

  “Watch the little ones,” Owen said as he opened the gate and ushered Lindsey inside.

  As he and Lindsey shuffled carefully up the path, their three-legged Chihuahua, Maxie, and blind-in-one-eye Jack Russell, Toby, raced around and around their feet as Hawn leaped gleefully beside them. An unfamiliar gray kitten was sunning himself on the front porch next to the aging pair of ginger cats named Betsy and Ross.

  “Looks like Mom picked up another stray,” Owen said as he stretched out a cautious hand to give the newcomer a scratch behind the ear. The cat yawned and gave the now-sniffing-him Hawn an annoyed look before curling his crooked tail more securely around his body and returning to his nap.

  “You have a lot of pets,” Lindsey observed as she bent to give Maxie and Toby the attention they craved. Maxie immediately peed in her excitement, but managed not to wet Lindsey’s sneaker.

  “Always have,” Owen said. He was certain his mother would be over the moon to help Lindsey get back on her feet.

  He rang the doorbell and waited for Mom to answer. The door was likely unlocked, but he’d once walked in on his parents engaged in a nooner on the foyer floor and would never again surprise them by letting himself into the house. He would also never look at his great-grandmother’s Persian rug quite the same way.

  “Owey,” Mom said as she threw open the door and hugged him. “Mrs. Worth just called and said you were on your way.”

  “So much for surprises,” Owen said under his breath. Mrs. Worth had babysat him when he’d been in elementary school, and apparently she’d never thought to stop.

  “And this is . . .” Mom asked. Her dark blond bob shifted forward to cover one blue eye as she inclined her head in Lindsey’s direction.

  “This is Lindsey . . . uh . . . What’s your last name?”

  “It had better be Mitchell,” Mom said, giving him a stern stare that made him feel about three inches high.

  Lindsey flushed, and Owen was pretty sure he needed to throw up. “Uh, well, no . . . It’s, uh . . .” Damn, he should have called first. Or come up with a feasible story before he delivered a pregnant groupie to his mother’s doorstep. Especially since he had no clue what Lindsey’s last name was.

  “Donaldson,” Lindsey supplied. “I should be going now.”

  She turned to escape—and abandon him to his mother’s death stare—but Owen caught her arm before she could take a single step.

  “I, uh, found her. Uh . . . at the arena in Houston.” That was sort of true. Well, more like Lindsey had found him. “She doesn’t have any place to go. She got fired, thrown out of her place. Her car broke down. She has no money, no family willing to help her, so I thought . . .” What had he thought? That his mom would just open her home and her heart to a perfect stranger? “Maybe you . . .” He tipped his head toward his mom, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I could help her out. But I don’t know where to start.”

  “First you start by claiming your baby,” Mom said.

  “Oh, it’s not his,” Lindsey said, pulling at the hem of her shirt with both hands. “Maybe.”

  “Hi, Owen!” someone called from the sidewalk outside the fence.

  He waved at whoever it was and squeezed his mother’s arm. “Can we talk about this inside?” There were plenty of good things about knowing all of your neighbors since birth and plenty of bad things too. “Please?”

  “Of course,” Mom said, meeting Lindsey’s troubled gaze. “Please come inside, Lindsey.”

  Lindsey gave Owen a questioning look and when he nodded, she stepped over the threshold.

  “Wow, Mrs. Mitchell, what a beautiful rug!” Lindsey said.

  “It was my grandmother’s,” Mom said.

  Owen cringed and made sure he stayed on the hardwood showing around its borders.

  “You have a lovely home,” Lindsey said. “And you raised a very thoughtful son.”

  “Why, thank you,” Mom said with a sweet smile. Her frostiness was already melting, not that Owen was surprised. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?” She moved her mouth closer to Lindsey’s ear and asked quietly, “Have to use the bathroom?”

  Lindsey laughed. “Actually . . .”

  “It’s like they’re standing directly on your bladder, isn’t it?” Mom whispered. She pointed Lindsey toward the powder room.

  As soon as Lindsey had shut the bathroom door behind her, his mom whirled on him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be a father?” she hissed.

  “I—”

  “If you’re going to fool around, I thought you at least had the good sense to be safe.”

  Even though he was a grown-ass man, it still bothered him when he disappointed his mother. “Mom, it’s not mine.” He also agonized about lying to her. It probably was his baby.

  “Then why did you bring her here?”

  “I told you—she didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

  “That’s really the reason? The only reason?” She gave him that look, the one that made it psychologically impossible to lie to her.

  “It might be mine,” he admitted in a rush of breath. He immediately wanted to stab himself.

  “Might?”

  “She, uh . . . We, uh . . . The band, we . . .”

  “Used your fame to take advantage of an innocent young woman.”

  Innocent? Yeah, Lindsey looked innocent, but she was far from virginal. Or even monogamous.

  “It wasn’t like that.”

  “Then what was it like?” Mom pressed. “Do you love her?”

  “No.”

  “Do you even like her?”

  “I don’t hate her,” he said.

  Mom’s eyebrows shot up, and she shook her head. “Wow, Owen, really?”

  “It was a mistake to bring her here,” he said, recognizing that Mom wasn’t having any of his nonsense. “I’ll figure out other arrangements for her.”

  Lindsey cracked the door open. He wondered how much she’d overheard. They’d been conversing in harsh whispers, but the powder room wasn’t exactly soundproof.

  Mom turned and smiled kindly at Lindsey. “Feel better?” she asked.

  Lindsey had that terrified, hopeless expression on her face that had convinced Owen to bring her home with him in the first place.

  Mom put an arm around Lindsey’s slight shoulders and urged her toward the cozy living room off the foyer. Apparently he wasn’t the only Mitchell on the planet affected by that look.

  “Let’s talk.”

  Lindsey was pressed into a patterned wingback chair, and Mom sat on the sofa across from her. Owen stood behind the sofa, behind his mom’s back, just in case he had to lead the direction of Lindsey’s answers with telepathic looks and/or had to run for his life if scary-mom made an appearance. No one was safe from scary-mom.

  “When are you due, dear?” Mom asked.

  Lindsey glanced up at Owen before settling her gaze on his mother’s. “In about three months, I think.”

  “You think? Do you have a specific due date?”

  She looked at Owen again. “September fifteenth.”

  “So we have a little time to get your life together before th
e baby arrives,” Mom said. “Don’t look so upset. Everything will be okay.”

  Oh sure, Mom comforted the stranger and made her own son feel like total shit.

  “Is it a boy or a girl?”

  The tiniest of smiles curved Lindsey’s lips. “I think it’s a boy.”

  “They couldn’t tell for sure in the ultrasound?”

  Lindsey ducked her head. “I haven’t had one.”

  “Why not?”

  Lindsey’s ponytail shifted to cover her face, and she coiled her hair around one finger. “I haven’t had . . . time to go to the doctor.”

  He was pretty sure she hadn’t had the resources to go. Or maybe she’d been too ashamed. Owen circled the sofa and sat next to his mother, who reached over and squeezed his knee.

  “I know a great ob/gyn,” Mom said to Lindsey. “We’ll get you an appointment this week. Have you been taking prenatal vitamins?”

  “I bought some at the store.” She looked up and met Mom’s eyes. “Mrs. Mitchell, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I can’t afford to go to the doctor.”

  “So you’re going to give birth in a public restroom?” Mom lifted both eyebrows at her. “Is that your plan?”

  Lindsey cradled her belly in her arms. “I thought I could go to the ER and . . . not pay the bill. They can’t turn you away, can they?”

  “What? That’s nonsense,” Owen said. “I’ll pay for everything.”

  Lindsey straightened and shook her head. “You can’t.”

  “I have plenty of money, Lindsey. It’s not a big deal.”

  “I can’t. I can’t just take a handout from you or, as Nessi suggested, from the welfare office or from anyone.”

  “If you won’t take my money, then think of it as a loan,” Owen said.

  “Owen!” Mom chastised. “You aren’t going to make her pay you back.”

  He didn’t care if she did or not, but if he was reading Lindsey correctly, she might actually go to the doctor if she thought of his monetary assistance as a loan instead of a handout.

  “I want to pay him back.”

  The relieved look on her face was payment enough for him. All the stress she’d been under couldn’t be good for her or the baby.

  “We’ll get you some health insurance,” Mom said. “And you can stay here with me and James until you find your own place.”

  There was the woman Owen knew his mother to be.

  “I couldn’t,” Lindsey said.

  “You will.”

  “Could she use the apartment?” Owen asked hopefully.

  Mom glanced at Owen. “Yes. Perfect.” Her attention shifted back to Lindsey. “We rent a room above our garage to college students during the school year, but it’s vacant until late August. You are more than welcome to stay there.”

  “How much is the rent?” Lindsey asked.

  Mom didn’t bat an eyelash. “It’s a small place. We get only a hundred dollars a month for it.”

  Liar, Owen thought. He knew for a fact that his parents usually got six times that amount for the nice one-bedroom apartment she’d referred to as a room above the garage. But he was glad for Mom’s little fib, because Lindsey actually smiled.

  “I can probably afford that even with a part-time job,” she said.

  “So you do have a job?” Mom asked.

  “Not yet, but I’m sure I can find something around here.” It was the first time Owen had seen her look hopeful.

  “She’s from Idaho, Mom,” Owen said.

  “Idaho! You’re a long way from home.”

  “I need to make a new home,” Lindsey said. “The old one isn’t right for me or the baby.”

  “I’ll see if I can find someone to go to Oklahoma to get your car,” Owen said. “You’ll need transportation to get you to work and doctor’s appointments.” And the store. She’d need to buy some things for herself and the baby.

  Lindsey’s smile faltered. “I’m sure it’s been impounded by now. I left it on the side of a freeway.”

  “Don’t worry about it. We’ll get it here and running again. I’ll just add all the expenses to your tab,” Owen said with a wink.

  She nodded and then reached out to take both his and Mom’s hands. “Thanks for helping me,” she said, “but not making me feel like a mooch. I’ve been feeling like such a mooch since I arrived in Texas.”

  “Everyone can use a little help sometimes,” Mom said, patting Lindsey’s hand with her free one.

  A little help? Owen thought, but he patted Lindsey’s hand as well. The faster he had his mom onboard with Lindsey’s care, the faster he could ditch her and head to Houston.

  While Lindsey was in the bathroom—again—Owen gave his mom all the cash he had on him. It was only a few hundred bucks, but it should get her through the weekend. “She probably needs some clothes and stuff,” he said, “and some necessities for the apartment.” Luckily, the apartment was fully furnished, including kitchen wares and linens, but she’d still need a few things. “She has just that one little overnight bag of belongings until we get her car back.”

  “I’ll take her shopping,” Mom promised, not looking put out in the least.

  “I hate to leave you with all the responsibility of taking care of her, but I have plans this weekend. I have to leave.”

  Mom crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head at him.

  “Don’t pretend like you can’t wait to shop for baby clothes,” he teased her, and she laughed.

  “I’ll take good care of her.”

  Of that, he had no doubt.

  Chapter Four

  Caitlyn nearly jumped out of her chair when her doorbell rang a little after noon. If her visitor was Owen, he was a tad early and must have driven like a maniac, but it could just be a delivery, so she cinched the belt of her big fluffy robe a bit tighter and went to the door. Her heart tripped over itself when she recognized the gorgeous face on her video monitor, even though he did appear slightly distorted and a touch grainy on the screen. She loosened her robe, stripped it from her shoulders, and tossed it on the bench in the foyer before opening the door.

  His smile of greeting vanished as his jaw dropped.

  She wasn’t entirely naked. She wore the bright yellow Sinday chicken panties he’d so thoughtfully sent her.

  “So much for small talk,” he said with a wicked grin.

  “How was your drive?” she asked as she stepped aside so he could enter.

  “I do believe that qualifies as small talk.”

  Nerves fluttered through her belly as he stepped over the threshold and shut the solid wooden door behind him. He didn’t take his eyes off hers once. Not even to stare at her bare breasts. She’d played this scenario through her head a dozen times that morning, but even though she’d let her thoughts take it in a different direction each time, she hadn’t been prepared for the effect he’s nearness would have on her. She was trembling. Her knees were shaky, and her heart and body both ached with longing. She hadn’t experienced the feeling since the last time she’d fallen for the wrong man.

  She didn’t realize she was walking backwards and he was following until she bashed her hip into the foyer console. She whimpered, not in pain but because he was getting closer now and the deep longing within her intensified as the distance between them diminished.

  “Are you trying to escape?” he asked, his voice low, hypnotic, and so sensual that she tingled from head to toe.

  She shook her head. Her breath caught when he wrapped a hand around her throat and pinned her against the table with his lower body. His cock—thick and long and as hard as the marble at their feet—pressed into her lower belly.

  She clung to the table behind her, afraid she might pass out if she filled her hands with his sculpted muscles. He shifted his hips away—stealing the reminder of his desire from her—and she moaned a protest. But then his free hand was on her hip and her panties were sliding down her thighs until they settled on the floor and he was fumbling between their bo
dies. He released his firm hold on her throat just long enough to lift her to sit on the edge of the console table and then he was inside her.

  Only after he’d filled her completely did she touch him. She pulled at his shirt. The urgency to feel his bare chest against her achingly hard nipples made her tug at his clothes. He didn’t help her—just stared into her eyes as he took her over and over with hard, deep, slow thrusts. And suddenly she didn’t care that she couldn’t press herself against his bare chest. The only things that mattered were the rhythmic connection between their bodies and the more intense one between their locked gazes.

  Her favorite vase rattled on the console beside her each time he plunged into her. The wooden candlesticks she’d carefully chosen to match her décor tipped, rolled, and hit the floor with resounding thumps. But she didn’t care. She wanted him. Wanted this. Wanted it to never end. Wanted to be lost in his gaze and in his rhythm forever.

  Lifting her feet off the floor, she wrapped both legs around his hips to take him deeper. She gasped as the shift in position meant he rubbed her just right. Her eyelashes fluttered, and her mouth dropped open as the pleasure overwhelmed.

  If it hadn’t felt so fucking spectacular, she might have thought she ruined everything by coming. As she cried out lost in the throes of ecstasy, she couldn’t help but break eye contact. Her nails raked down his back as she lost herself. Owen’s entire body stiffened and he gasped brokenly. With a tormented moan, he buried his face in her throat, his fingers digging into her ass. After an intense moment of shallow, rapid strokes, he shuddered as he lost himself inside her.

  He rubbed his open mouth against her throat as he struggled to find enough air for his laboring lungs. She held him close, selfishly hoping he never took a steady breath, because she knew as soon as he did, he’d move away. She didn’t think she’d ever be ready to release him.

  After a long moment, he took a deep breath and lifted his head. His smile made her already thundering heart throb.

  “Now that was wonderful greeting,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her.

  “Hello,” she said with a laugh and cupped his face between her palms so he’d stay close.

  “And hello to you on this fine Sinday afternoon.” He shifted away slightly, despite her unspoken wishes to remain glued to him, and glanced around the foyer. “Nice place you’ve got here. Enormous.”