Endeared (The Accidental Billionaires #5) - J. S. Scott Page 0,77

forefinger on my chin and lifted my face to his. “It’s kind of new for me, too,” he said, his voice gravelly as his eyes met mine. “Don’t ever think I take any of this for granted, Layla. For me, just you being with me is like a goddamn fantasy that I never want to end. It’s not like I’ve engaged in much dirty talk myself, and fuck knows I’ve never had the kind of mind-blowing sex that we have. I’ve never had a serious relationship, either. Never wanted one until you.”

Why was it so hard to believe that Owen, for a guy his age, probably was inexperienced, too? “I think being a pervert just comes naturally for you,” I teased, trying to lighten the conversation since we were alone in the middle of a huge crowd.

“I think it comes naturally to most guys, whether they can back up all their trash talk or not.”

Owen knew how to make me feel comfortable and not make a big deal out of nothing. He’d acknowledged my quirk, related to it, and then brushed it off.

His ability to accept any weird stumbles that I made while I was getting used to this new relationship between us was one of the things I loved about him.

We’d probably both screw up while we were figuring everything out, but at the core of us, we were best friends.

I’d always have Owen’s back.

And he’d always have mine.

There was just a whole lot of adoration, lust, chemistry, and for me, romantic love tossed into that mix, too.

“Baby, you have no idea how badly I want to see those cherry-red panties, and then rip them off your body right now,” he said in a low, seductive baritone next to my ear.

I pulled his head down and gave him a sweet, brief kiss. “Come on, Tarzan. We have some paintings to see.”

Either I needed a distraction, or I was going to drag him outside, call an Uber to get us home as soon as possible, and strip him the second the door was closed.

“Later,” he said in a warning voice as he led me back into the stream of people.

I laughed as I tripped into the crowd with him.

I could hardly wait.

CHAPTER 27

LAYLA

I sank into the bathtub with an enormous sigh, my body exhausted, but my head still buzzing with activity.

It’s my last night in Paris.

Owen had taken me to the Jules Verne, the restaurant on the second floor of the Eiffel Tower, for our last dinner in Paris. The views had been breathtaking from the panoramic windows there, and the food had been absolutely delicious.

When we’d arrived back at the house, Owen had needed to answer some important emails about the progress on the clinic, so I’d wandered into the spa-like master bathroom, and finally decided to take advantage of the massive bathtub that I’d been eyeing since we’d arrived.

Honestly, we hadn’t really had a free moment until now.

I felt like we’d hiked halfway across France over the last nine days, and it felt good just to let the warm water relax my muscles.

There hadn’t been a single moment in Paris that I wouldn’t cherish for the rest of my life.

Owen and I had been busy every day, trying to take in all the magnificent history of Paris, and at night, we burned up the sheets together.

“No wonder I’m so damn tired,” I muttered as I sank into the relaxing bath until the water was touching my chin.

Probably some of my favorite memories of Paris would always be just walking and exploring with Owen. Paris was a city where people walked and took in the ambiance. It was those quieter, softer moments that I’d miss the most.

I grabbed the brand-new loofah that I’d left at the side of the tub, put some of the mild soap I’d purchased on the sponge, and began to stroke it over my skin.

“I’m the first in line to volunteer to wash your back for you, or any other part of your body, for that matter,” Owen offered from the entrance on the other side of the room.

My breath caught as I saw him leaning against the doorjamb, still dressed in the charcoal-gray suit he’d worn to dinner.

Owen always looked comfortable in his own skin, but he looked equally at ease in a suit and tie.

With his white dress shirt and striking navy-and-gray tie, my eyes had hardly left him the entire night.

I’d worn a classic little black dress that I’d brought with me.