His cock pulsed again, even as his chest tightened. She was the kind of woman a man could spend the rest of his life getting to know better.
The rest of his life. How long was that for him?
“Owen?”
“Everything’s okay,” he answered.
“No second thoughts?”
“Not even close.”
“Good.” She studied him, her strides slowing a little. “I…I should explain why I took off earlier.”
He shook his head. “It’s okay.”
“No, no. It isn’t.” She stopped, turning to look at him. “When that other woman came up to you, clearly very upset and angry with you—”
“My sister,” he said with a gentle smile. “Tilly.”
A shaky laugh fell from Bria. “Sister. Yeah, once I stopped freaking out, I thought that’s who she might have been. But—”
“You thought I was a lying, cheating bastard?” he said. “Like Shaggy? Simon, I mean?”
Biting at her bottom lip, her eyes impossible to read, she nodded. “Like Simon. And seriously, I didn’t think I was that wounded by what he did to me until that moment, but…” She raised her shoulders in a shrug. “Apparently, I am. Who knew I was so fragile?”
Taking a small step closer to her, he cupped her face in his palms. “I’m not a bastard, Bria. I promise. I hate lying, and I’m of the opinion cheaters need their dicks cut off. And if you want, I am more than happy to be your rebound guy.”
She snorted out a laugh.
He brushed her bottom lip with his thumb, watching her process what he’d said, waiting for her to make the next move. She’d been hurt. She was allowed to take as long as she needed.
“I didn’t tell you what I’m scared of earlier, did I?” she said.
“You didn’t.”
“Not spending the night with you,” she confessed. “That’s what I’m scared of. Right now, at this moment, I’m scared something will happen before we get to my apartment, and I won’t get to spend the night with you.”
He sucked in a slow breath, his head rushing, and took her fingers in his. “Bria, if anyone tries to stop this…” He trailed off. Not because he’d lost his words—although in all honesty, he had no fucking clue how to vocalize how much he wanted her at this point—but because walking towards them, fury contorting his face, was Simon.
Great.
“The wanker’s coming towards us,” he muttered, straightening a little as the guy locked eyes on him. “Simon.”
She swung around. “Shit.”
Simon’s jaw bunched as he quickened his pace.
Bria’s hand squeezed Owen’s, and she grinned over her shoulder at him. “How fast can you run?”
“Fa—”
She burst into a sudden sprint, dragging him along, her laughter filling his ears and pulling out his own.
They dodged and weaved through the other partiers, laughing, fingers threaded until she drew to a halt near the entrance of the elevator lobby.
Letting out a wobbly chuckle, Owen dragged a hand through his hair. “Thank God I wasn’t wearing thongs.”
Bria leant her back to the wall beside one of the rooftop’s massive potted palms and raked a gaze over him. “I had you pegged more for a boxer-briefs kinda guy.”