61 Ch 61: Who could blame her

She said with a smile holding up her hand, "I don't' need all of your histories" He chuckled. "And as for the other question about our relationship, absolutely not," she said quickly. "I—it was just the way she told me. I can't, no, shouldn't, be concerned about things that happened in your past, but I guess I'm a little possessive."

Abigail just didn't want to scratch the woman's eyes out after that confession, she wanted her beheaded. How could anyone take advantage of a teenager like that?

It was interesting how she thought that people with money the likes of what his family had meant that he had a normal family life, well, she knew there was some dysfunction there, but not to that extent.

He chuckled, "you?" He then stepped up to her and pulled her into his embrace, "I was going to fire the best financial officer in the city over touching you." Wrapping her arms around his waist she laid her head against his chest, "I'm in so much trouble of losing myself completely in you." She sighed.

His hand came up and caressed the nape of her neck as he lowered his head on the top of her, "You and me both love."

***

The next night, Owen didn't get home until after midnight. He went to his room and saw that Abigail had stayed there much to his delight. He stopped and stared at her while loosening his tie.

She was sound asleep and didn't' even stir at the sound of the door opening. Owen thought she was possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and even more so with the peaceful expression, she wore while sleeping. His eyes guided down to her breasts clearly outlined by the sheet that still covered her.

She must've kicked off the other blankets, which suited him just fine because he liked looking at her and he liked touching her even more. Grinning, he turned and went to his bathroom to wash up thinking he was the luckiest man alive.

Twenty minutes later, he returned and climbed in bed next to his future wife who had turned toward his side of the bed while he was in the bathroom. He reached over and ran a hand down her side to the narrow curve of her waist causing her to release a sexy little moan and open her eyes.

"Hey." She muttered. "Hey yourself." "What time is it?" "Around one in the morning." "Oh, you poor man. Owen, you work too much." She said lifting her hand to his cheek. "Yes, but look what I get to come home to." He grinned. "You are completely insatiable." She said with wide eyes catching his meaning.

"I am?" he said pushing her onto her back, "Here I come home and find this unbelievable—"he chuckled, "—a naked woman in my bed." His body slid on top of her causing her to moan. "Honey, that's like dangling a rabbit in front of a hungry lion." She laughed but it was cut off by his mouth in a crushing passionate kiss.

The next morning when she woke up, he was gone. She glanced at the clock and saw that she'd slept in. Who could blame her? The man was a machine—and didn't he sleep? Lord, who came home at midnight, make love to a woman for several hours and then get up early to go back to work? There was no way she could even function right now, and she had several hours more of sleep.

Groaning she dragged herself out of bed and into his washroom. She stopped when she saw his expensive clothing on the floor next to the hamper. She smiled bending over to pick it up.

He was used to being looked after obviously, and she liked the idea of doing it. Lifting the lid she went to toss it in the hamper when something caught her eye. There was a streak on the collar of his shirt. She ran her thumb over the crimson stain and it rubbed around. Lipstick? After a moment, she shook her head.

There was no way that Owen could have the energy for another woman. There must be a decent explanation and she would ask him about it. She tossed the clothing in the hamper quickly almost as if it would erase the memory, but it didn't.

As the day wore on, she started to stew about it. He was incredibly sexy and could have anyone he wanted, yet he asked her to marry him.

Why was that? When he came home that evening, she handed him his shirt and stood there with her hands on her hips waiting for a reply. He just stared at her in question. "What is this for?" "There's lipstick on the collar."

The puzzled look on his face was a great relief. There was no guilt and no denial. "Lipstick?" he lowered his eyes to her mouth, "You don't wear lipstick." He answered matter-of-factly as if there was no other explanation.

"Oh Owen, am I being a fool?" she said rubbing her forehead with her hand, "I saw the lipstick and thought maybe—" He laughed cutting off her explanation, tossed the shirt aside and gathered her into his arms, " Ruby tripped on those outrageous three-inch heels she wears to work, I caught her from falling. I think that's how it happened."

He tilted her face up to his, "You should never worry about such at thing Abigail—hell, I can't even get enough energy to write my name after a night with you. How the hell am I going to have an affair?" "I'm an idiot."

He gave her a sexy irresistible grin, "No, you're incredibly naïve in relationships, and that's just fine with me. I love that you get jealous, but I'll never cheat on you, Abigail. You have my promise."