Soft Shock (13 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Tyler crossed
the room and threw himself across Marci and Ronnie’s laps.

“What happened,
hon?” Ronnie asked gently.

“Shawn got the
part over me. Talentless, hack Shawn.” Tyler shook his head against Ronnie’s
thighs. “It’s never going to happen for me. Time to start being ‘practical’, I
guess.” Tyler put huge, savage, angry air quotes around the word “practical.”
“Guess my parents were right every time they yelled at me about majoring in
theater. It was just a biiiig waste of their money.”

“What was the
part, Tyler?”

“Commercial.”
Tyler picked at the fabric of his blue corduroys.

“The same
commercial that you said was ridiculous and that you didn’t really want but
that you might as well audition for because Shawn was offering you a ride to
New York?”

“Don’t you see?
If I can’t even book a commercial that is
beneath
me and couldn’t-act-his-way-out-of-a-paper-bag
Shawn
can, then what’s the point? I’m worse than talentless.”

“Tyler,” Marci
said. “You know that’s not true.”

“I went to
friggin’
Juliard
—for one
year—and I can’t even book
a
commercial
!” Tyler had transferred out of Juliard because he hadn’t felt
like he fit in there. The instructors there hadn’t shared his vision
apparently. At least that was the official story. Ronnie and Marci had their
suspicions he’d failed out.

“So you didn’t
book that commercial. There’s something ten times better waiting around the
corner for you.”

“Moving on. If
I can’t be booked and happy, I might as well be fat and happy.” Tyler smacked
one of his bony hips. “Let’s order food.”

Marci, who hadn’t
eaten since before her class, readily agreed.

“Tyler, you
will never gain an ounce, so shut it,” Ronnie said. “As for me, I’ve discovered
I can either eat what I want or wear what I want.” Ronnie smacked her ample
thigh just to the side of where Tyler’s head rested. “Guess which one I’ve
chosen?”

“Oh please. You
look beautiful,” Marci said.

“Not saying I
don’t,” Ronnie said. “Just saying there are repercussions to eating fatty fat
fat fat. Not that I have plans to give it up. Just saying.”

“Whatever, gorgeous
bitches. What are we going to eat?” Tyler sat up and moved over to settle into
the space on the couch he made between them.

“You pick since
you’re the guest of honor at this pity party,” Ronnie said.

Tyler rolled
his eyes. “That was awful, just so you know.”

Ronnie laughed.
“Thanks.”

“Thai,” Tyler
said.

“Skinny over
here can’t even pig out right.”

“What’s wrong
with Thai?”

“Too healthy.”

They bantered
back and forth about Thai food while Marci went to the kitchen to search the
drawer where they kept takeout menus. She grinned as she dug through the menus
to look for Thai. The sound of their sibling-like bickering was music to her
ears.

#

Marci came home
from the library Friday afternoon in a good mood. She’d accomplished a lot at
the library and was pretty proud of herself. She swung the door to her
apartment open, and her mouth dropped open along with it. Owen sat on her
couch, chatting amicably with Ronnie. He was majorly invading her space. What
was he doing there? Had he come over to look for his brother?

When Owen
looked up and saw her, his face lit up with that perfect grin that melted every
part of her. “Hi,” he said. “I was wondering when you were getting back.”

“Were you just
going to sit here until I did?” Marci asked.

“Yep. Or until
Ronnie kicked me out.”

Ronnie, who was
obviously enjoying this, let her eyes flit back and forth between Owen and
Marci, watching every move they made. She was most likely trying to pick up on
some
clues,
some subtle hints of the things Marci had
left out.

“Did you come
over to talk about your paper?” Marci asked pointedly.

Ronnie wasn’t fazed
by this and almost seemed to know it was for her benefit. She perched on the
edge of the couch
cushion,
leaning forward like she
was a kid at Christmas, and this interplay between Marci and Owen was her gift.

“Sure,” Owen
said. He stood and stretched and she realized he didn’t have a crutch. Taking
in her reaction, he said, “I’m all healed up.”

“Good,” Marci
said tightly. “Wanna come to my room? We can discuss that paper and get you out
of here. I’m sure you have better things to do on a Friday night than hang out
at your writing tutor’s apartment.” She put extra emphasis on the words
“writing tutor.” Wait, was Ronnie holding back laughter? Was her face turning
red with the effort of holding it back? That was wrong. Way wrong.

“Okay,” Owen
said. He grabbed his backpack from the floor and slung it over one shoulder.

She led the way
to her room.

“I’ve never
been in here before.” Owen looked around her lavender, silver, and sky blue-themed
room. “Nice.”

“What are you
doing here?” she hissed. “No warning. I just come in here and find you chatting
away with my roommate—”

“I have
something for you.” He reached into his pack and grabbed a small package from
it. Dropping his backpack onto the floor near her desk, he walked over to her
with the package and handed it to her.

“Java Time’s
Ethiopian dark roast,” she murmured, looking down at the brightly colored package
of coffee in her hands.

“You mentioned
it was your favorite once.” Owen gave her his best unassuming Opie grin, and
she knew she was treading dangerous waters.

“I can’t. Here.
Take it back.” She thrust the coffee at him. He walked over, set the coffee on
her desk, and came back to her.

She started to
tell him to leave, but he cut her off with a kiss. For a moment, she responded.
It was second nature because his mouth never failed to empty her brain of
rational thought and flood every inch of her with the desire to have him naked
in ten seconds flat. There was a little problem with getting him naked, though.
And that problem brought her back to her senses.

Twisting away
from him, breathless, she said, “No. No more of your teasing.”

Owen pushed a
hand through his messy, wavy, dark blond hair. “I have a proposition for you,” he
said. “Hear me out.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll give you
a little of what you want if you give me a little of what I want.”

“Go on. I’m
listening.”

“Here it is. A
compromise.” Owen ran a hand over his perfect
face,
let it rest at the bottom of his angular jaw. He stared at her for a long
moment before tucking both hands behind his back. “I’ll give you just sex if
you promise I’m the only person you’ll have sex with while we’re doing it. When
you’re ready to move on…to…others…let me know, and that’s it.”

“Are you sure
you can handle that?”

Owen laughed. “Just
give me a yes or no. No sex with anyone who’s not me. You can date. Do whatever
you want that’s not sex—well, that’s not more than kissing.”

“I don’t date.”

“That’s up to
you.”

“And how do you
know I won’t have sex with you once and be done?”

“I don’t.” Owen
shrugged. “I guess I’m holding out hope that I’m not wrong about you even
though you’re so sure I am.”

“Wrong about
me?”

“About the way
you feel about me.”

“Hm,” was all
Marci
said.

He took her
hands in his, brushed his lips over the tips of her fingers. “So what about it?
What do you think?”

She was too
distracted by his lips on her skin to do much thinking. This was what she
wanted, and he was making it easy enough to back out whenever she felt like it.
“No emotional crap?”

“Not a bit,” he
murmured into her palm.

She took her
hand back. If he was trying to sway her decision, it was working and it wasn’t
fair. “And I’m free to walk away whenever I want? No catch?”

“Completely
catch-free.” Owen looked at her earnestly with those gray eyes, making it all
the harder to imagine saying no. This boy was dangerous. He could sell snow to
an Eskimo with that face.

“I’m not making
any promises. This might be the only time.” She shook her head. “This is
probably the only time.”

He laughed. “Then
I’d better make it a good one.”

“I just don’t
see the point in sex with the same person more than once. You’ve seen what
there is to offer. Why go back for seconds?”

“Maybe you
haven’t been having very good sex.”

“What? I’ll have
you know that I have had plenty of sex. Ten times what you’ve had.”

He chuckled,
and she grew infuriated that her indignation was amusing him. “Just because
you’ve had more partners doesn’t mean you’ve had more sex.” He locked his gaze on
hers. “Or better sex.”

“You don’t even
know what you’re in for.”

He didn’t lose
his cool or miss a beat. “You’ve had a preview, and you can say whatever you
want, but I’m thinking you were impressed. Nobody fakes that well.”

“You don’t know
me. Could have been an act.”

“If it was, let
me get your academy award ready, Ms. King.”

“So you can
make me come. You think you’re the only one?”

“I think I’m
the longest relationship you’ve ever had.”

She wasn’t
about to correct
him
as that would mean dipping into a
past she didn’t want to share.

Grinning, he
took a step closer. “We might as well take it to the next level.”

“Let me drop my
panties for you right now,” she said dryly.

He didn’t
answer with words. Instead, he moved in close and put his tongue behind her
earlobe. He gave the sensitive skin there a slow, searing kiss before capturing
the bottom of her earlobe in his teeth and tugging gently at it.

Despite her
efforts not to, she let a sigh of pleasure escape. He pulled back a little and
ran his thumb over the skin just below her lower lip. All she could think of
was what they hadn’t gotten to finish their first two times together.

“You don’t tell
anybody about this,” Marci whispered against his lips. “You sneak out when
nobody’s around to catch you.”

Owen played
with the hem of her shirt. “Afraid I’m going to ruin your reputation?”

“Something
like
that.”

He grabbed the
hem of her shirt and whipped it up and over her head. While she unfastened her
bra, he unbuttoned and unzipped her pants and pushed them down her legs so she
could step out of them. Pressing her body to his hard, lean one, she didn’t
resist as he backed her over to her bed. He nudged her just a little, and she
fell back onto the bed. He was on top of her in the next second, and she locked
her legs around his waist and pulled him in for a long, deep kiss. While they
kissed, he tugged at her panties, and she wiggled out of them.

He pulled back,
and she grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head. His
messy hair was even wilder now. Sexier.

“Condom?” he
asked.

“Didn’t plan
ahead, Mr. Monogamy?” Marci teased.

His ears
reddened. “Truthfully? I didn’t expect this to work. And I was pretty sure you’d
have some on the off chance it did, Ms. Opposite of Monogamy.”

She laughed. “Touché.”
Rolling over halfway, she reached into the drawer on her nightstand. Owen
kissed her shoulder while she was half turned away and reaching into the
drawer, so she took her time drawing the square packet out of there. Finally,
she turned back to him, kissing him and dragging one hand through his hair
while the other held on to the condom. He unfastened and kicked off his pants
before closing his hands over hers. While holding her hands, he planted slow,
sweet kisses across her collarbone.

This was nice,
and even though a little warning bell was going off at the back of her mind,
she chose to ignore it. Just for now. Owen was slow and sensual. Like a lover
instead of a quick screw who saw her only as a quick screw. Usually, sex was
quick, sometimes rough, and always a little impersonal for her.
Always selfish on both sides.
And that’d been fine for her.
Both parties in for one thing and getting it as quickly and efficiently
as possible.
No big deal. So she had to do a little of the work
herself—some assembly required—so what? She knew where her clitoris
was.

She didn’t know
exactly when Owen had taken the condom from her because she’d been lost in the
sheer bliss of his touches and kisses. But when he pulled away and sat back on
his heels to put on the condom, she noticed. She ran her eyes over his cut
arms, his pecks, and his tight abs while he rolled the condom from tip to base.
Man, was he nice to look at. That was one benefit of this arrangement. So she
was upgrading from one-night stands to a fuck buddy. What was wrong with that
when the fuck buddy could have been a friggin’ model if he wanted to? He looked
as good as some of the wannabe actors that she’d seen at Tyler’s casting calls
when she went with him. Heck, he looked better than a lot of them, actually.

Deep down, she
knew what was wrong with it. He was so genuinely good. Sweet. She didn’t want
to be the one to ruin that. Let someone else be the jackass who broke him the
way she’d been broken. Let someone else prove to him that romantic love was a
sadistic joke. No way did she want it to be her who did that.
 

He knows the deal, and he still wants this.
Hell, he’s the one who proposed this
, she told herself, angry that she was
deliberating this much over what had been her formerly simple sex life. See? It
was starting already.