“Don’t do that to me again,” he says, helping her off the ground.
“Do what?” she asks, wondering what she did wrong.
“Tell me you don’t know how to do something when you totally, fucking, magnificently do.”
She feels the heat of her blush. Such an Owen-style compliment. He strips off his shirt and carefully wipes the mess off her body. He checks to make sure he got every bit and then cleans himself. Then he pulls her into his lap. He kisses her neck, her breasts, her mouth.
She stops for a moment, pulling away, and looks at her hands. A strange sob catches in her throat.
“Astrid?” He touches her chin.
“I’ve spent my life shying away from touch. From feeling people, skin and bodies.” Tears pool in the corner her eyes. “I knew my hands had power, but nothing like that.”
He takes both of hers in one of his much bigger ones. “Hey, everything about you is good. Even the Echo. We’ve proven that.”
She nods. Old thoughts are hard to break.
He wraps his arms around her body and they’re close, almost closer than she’s ever been with anyone physically before, other than Quinn. Owen is different, though. More emotional, more handsy. “You just proved how powerful you really are, As. You made a bastard like me putty in your hands. You’ve got Quinn running around and buying you doughnuts.” His lips press against hers. “You’re strong. And unbelievably hot. Don’t underestimate yourself, okay?”
She smiles. “How did you get so wise?”
His grin in return is lopsided and mischievous. “You know a guy will tell you anything you want to hear if you suck him off, right.”
“Shut up,” she says, pushing him off, but she knows he’s messing around. It’s hard for him to be serious—when he is, things go dark, and she doesn’t want him wallowing in that place.
His eyes hold a flicker of something she can’t identify, and he reaches for her again. He tosses her on the bed and she yelps from surprise. “You didn’t think you’d get away so easily, did you?”
Her head presses into the fluffy pillow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I want more. I want you. I want to feel you writhe on the bed.” He kisses her and kisses her until she’s gasping for air.
“I did that for you,” she says with a smile. “A gift, remember?”
“Yeah, but you’re the only thing I really need.”
Fiery kisses ignite across her body. His tongue licks and nibbles at her breasts. His hand dips between her legs, making sure she’s ready and damn damn damn if she isn’t.
The fear she had earlier about his cock—the sheer size of it--vanished at some point during their play, but she frowns when he moves it away from her core, instead pushing his head between her legs.
His tongue, god, his tongue and his fingers spread her apart. Her hips rise to meet him, and twice now she’s experienced this. Twice men have made her see the stars with their mouths, fingers, and tongues. He licks, he sucks, he blows cool air on her clit and she wraps her fingers in his hair, while he buries his face against her body.
But the physical isn’t what takes her to the edge. It’s the emotional, the feeling of pure contentment rolling off of Owen as he pleasures her. For the first time since they’ve met he feels at ease, his energy at peace, his anger quelled.
She did this for him and she knows as the nerves in her most sensitive places build and build to the place that feels so good it borders on pain, that this is what ties them together. This is what their relationship is about.
This, she thinks, shattering over the edge, his tongue taking her to the highest of places, is why they will beat their enemies. Because of this bond.
*
He helps her dress, tugging the tank back over her head. He pretends it gets stuck over her breasts, taking his time with each side. Astrid buttons his jeans, running her fingers through the soft hair stretching between the waistband and his navel. He grabs her fingers and shakes his head. “Don’t play with fire, babe.”
They’ve just straightened the bed and cranked up the music when Quinn appears in the door.
“Hey,” Astrid says, tugging at the hem of her shirt. “Where have you been?”
There’s a line between his eyes, a signal of tension, and nerves flutter in her chest. He knows what they did and he’s pissed.
“I’ve got a bone to pick with you,” he says. She can’t take the judgment in his eyes.
“Quinn, I didn’t do anything…”
“We didn’t,” Owen jumps in. She nods. Quinn holds up his hands.
“Stop. We need to talk. Downstairs. Casper is waiting.”
“Casper?” she asks, not sure what he has to do with the three of them. Unless he’s been watching—which frankly, she suspects he probably has.
Quinn rubs his face with his hands. “You’re busted,” he says, eyes darting to Owen’s. “She went to WIND-E today and spent an hour inside. There’s footage from the street cameras of her getting in a car.”
Owen stares at her. “You did what?”
“Let me explain,” she says, but Quinn holds up his hands and cuts her off.
“Trust me,” Quinn replies. “I want to hear it. So does Casper and I’m sure Owen does, too.”
She looks at Owen, the content look from earlier is gone, replaced with lines of worry. He simply raises his eyebrows in question.
“Downstairs?” she asks.
“Yep, Casper is waiting in the Lair.” Quinn looks her over. “Go shower. We’ll meet you in ten minutes.”
She nods, thankful for the ten-minute reprieve. She’s got nothing to hide. Not about what happened with Owen or what went down with Demetria. But she does have to justify making decisions without her team, and that may take a little convincing.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Quinn
Leaving them both to clean up, Quinn heads back to the Lair. Casper is live and waiting, muttering to himself as he plays a video game off-camera. His avatar is so life-like that at times he forgets a real man is on the other side of the screen and not some cartoon character.
“They’ll be here in a minute,” he says, easing into the desk chair.
“That took you a while, everything go okay?”
Quinn grunts but doesn’t elaborate. He’d gone to the dormitory looking for Owen. Instead he found the two of them undressed and on the bed. That wasn’t what gave him pause though, it was hearing Astrid’s confession about using her hands. And Owen’s understanding she’d been with Quinn, too.
Whatever arrangement this is forming between the three of them is something different they’ll have to get used to. Or at least, he will.
He looks up to see Casper, or rather his avatar staring at him. “What?”
“Caught them boning, didn’t you?”
“Dude, no.” He exhales. “Shut up.”
“Look, you and I both know Astrid has developed a strong connection to you both. She needs that kind of relationship—supportive men that get her.” His voice lowers and becomes more serious than he’s heard it in a while. “Don’t let her down.”
“I’m not planning on it.”
“Good.” The video boots up on screen. “Don’t be too much of a dick about this, either—not until you hear what she has to say.”
“She got in a car with a stranger. It could have been anyone. What if Kincade sent one of his ghouls after her?”
“She’s not an idiot. She’s got good instincts and can kick ass if she needs to.”
“Did you see the size of that guy?”
“Yeah,” Casper admits. “He’d be hard to take down, but she’s still not stupid.”
Quinn feels the anger from before flaring up again. He can take a lot of things. Astrid with another man. Watching her climb into a burning building and running toward trouble. But this video makes him uncomfortable. Going off alone with a stranger and not telling him about it has triggered his protective nature.
The door swings open and Astrid walks in, hair clean but still damp. She’s got on her hoodie—shit—she’s probably preparing to hunker down in that thing. Owen walks in behind him and their eyes meet. Quinn nods, letting him know everything is good. Astrid may need both of their support, but that means they have to get on the same page.