I promised a long chapter, and here it is!
When Owen arrived at the offices below the control floor on Friday, everyone except Claire had left for the day. She planned it that way. She hoped that, after tonight, she'd feel less anxious being seen with him. She also hoped that tonight would be when they'd sleep together. Claire wore her best lingerie underneath her Casual Friday ensemble of black button-down and khaki capris. No man had ever seen her wine-colored La Perla lace before, and she couldn't wait to watch Owen's face when he did.
His face lit up with a huge grin when he entered her office. It made her feel warm all over. The eager kiss he planted on her lips a moment later made her feel weak in the knees. He didn't smell or taste of alcohol. It was all Owen, and it made her giddy. As he pulled out of their embrace, he expertly undid the top button on her blouse with a flick of his wrist.
"You're off the clock now," he said after a slow lick of his lips. "Let's go." Before Claire could respond, he was pulling her by the hand toward the elevator. He pinned her to the glass as soon as the doors slid shut. His hands went to her hips while his lips trailed her neck until he took a shallow nip with his teeth near her collarbone.
"You told me the last time we were in here that you didn't bite," she said with a nervous laugh. She wasn't comfortable with his being so handsy from the get-go. It frankly confused her. Gone was the graceful, perfect balance he'd struck throughout their previous dates.
"I figured you'd be into it now," he chuckled then grunted into her ear. "You're too delicious to resist." He slipped his fingers into the belt loops on the front of her pants to pull her flush against him. They locked eyes, and Claire recognized his lustful gaze from when she dropped him off on Saturday night. She bit her lip. She wasn't ready for this. He needed to back off a bit. She was saved by the doors opening to the Innovation Center monorail station level. Several guests piled into the elevator as they rode to the ground level. Claire felt Owen's pulse pounding and sweat forming in his palm as they held hands. She breathed a silent sigh of relief.
Soon, they were riding his motorcycle again through the back roads of the park. Claire noticed that he was driving more aggressively than the last time, but she still enjoyed being wrapped around him. She was intrigued when he pulled up to the back side of the Aviary. He bowed to her as he opened the employee entrance door, and she laughed. Upon entering the space, her nostrils were assaulted by the smell of fish. It wasn't unexpected - she'd been there countless times before - but it didn't set a romantic mood. Staff were restocking the tank for the circulating, artificial river that ran through the Aviary. At least the sound of running water was soothing.
"Owen, why are we here?" she asked hesitantly as several staff members focused their gaze on the pair. He simply squeezed her hand and led her to the edge of the tank. They could peer through metal bars to watch the fish get carried by the current toward the Pteranodons and Dimorphodons nesting in the trees on the other side. Owen positioned himself behind her and put his arms around her waist. Claire leaned back against him but felt uneasy being so close to the carnivores and the prying eyes of her staff. She watched the pterosaurs swoop down to catch and devour the fish.
Owen startled her when he whispered close to her ear, "Can you imagine what they would do if they could select their prey from the open skies of the island?"
"They have shocking trackers under their skin," she replied arrogantly. "They wouldn't get far."
Owen groaned, "You're missing the point." Claire rolled her eyes knowing he couldn't see her do it. She got the point. This was another morbid lesson in respecting the animals. It was not good foreplay. He continued speaking in a hushed tone, "This is an unnatural feeding method, fish in a barrel. They would become vicious hunters if given the chance to track and eat their choice of meat."
"They still seem vicious to me." She swallowed hard as a pteranodon toyed with a fish in its talons.
"It's amazing to me that they don't eat each other alive." Claire became aware of Owen's fingers slipping between her buttons to reach the bare skin of her abdomen. "I'm surprised they're content merely to fish." One of his fingers grazed the lace of her bra. She gasped as he emitted a low moan.
"Owen!" she admonished in a whisper. She wanted to slap his hand away. Instead, she turned her body around, effectively dislodging his fingers, and scowled at him. He looked like he wanted to eat HER alive. She would've been turned on had they not been in public.
"I'm sorry," he said in a gravelly tone with a grin. "I just want to touch you all the time."
"You're a caveman," she hissed.
"Ouch, Claire."
"It's the setting. This is too much for me."
"You drive me wild." He leaned down to kiss her as his hands went to her waist and beneath her shirt. She stepped back from him and winced at the feeling of the cold tank pressed against her back. The heat never left his eyes. "I wanted to touch you for so long. I was going to ask you out that day on my dock - not just joke around about it. I told Barry ahead of time, so I wouldn't lose my nerve." Claire's pulse pounded. He was leaning over her and obstructing her view of any Aviary staff. "You blocked my cock." His face moved closer to hers with every word. "I had to wait another three months before you'd give me the time of day." His mouth stopped a fraction of an inch from hers, and he closed his eyes. Claire put her hands on his shoulders to push him away. He was startled.
She glared at him angrily then whispered, "What is this? Some sort of sick revenge play?" She didn't want to be overheard or forced into something out of her comfort zone. Owen's eyes widened, and he pulled fully away from her. He wore that wounded look she'd seen before, but she couldn't tell if it was genuine or in jest. "This isn't funny," she said before walking briskly toward the exit. Claire avoided making eye contact with her employees.
Once outside, Claire moved in the opposite direction from Owen's motorcycle and leaned against the building out of sight of the entrance. He followed her lead and stood next to her but didn't touch her.
"I'm not laughing, Claire." He sounded upset.
She labored not to sound bitchy, "I'm not some hot and cold tease." He scoffed in apparent disbelief. She sharpened her gaze and postured. "You were practically undressing me in front of my staff!" He shrank back slightly in response. She paced the area where they were standing. "I generally don't like PDAs. Especially around staff. I value my privacy and don't risk having my authority undermined."
"Okay," Owen relented. He took a deep breath. "You always think the worst of me. I don't want revenge. I want you." There was desperation in his tone. It wasn't the first time she'd heard it from him, but she still wasn't ready to yield.
Claire answered calmly, "YOU waited three months to ask me out. I would've been open to it sooner." She saw him roll his eyes before one side of his mouth curled up. The instant she smiled back, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into a fiery kiss. He had full control, keeping a hand firmly on the back of her head. It felt so very good. Claire didn't care about being putty for the moment - at least they were hidden in the brush. When they broke apart to breathe, Claire taunted, "Feeling better?"
"Getting there," Owen groaned. "Come on." He led her back to his bike while she suppressed a giggle.
He drove more cautiously this time, and Claire nuzzled into his back. Her mind wandered to sexual places as she felt his muscles rippling with the movements of the bike. Then, she appreciated her stomach gurgling and wondered what else he had planned for their evening. He parked behind the first aid station nearest the underwater observatory and gave her a quick peck on the lips before they started walking.
Owen seemed nervous as they weaved through the Main Street crowd. Claire wondered if it was the setting or their date putting him on edge. She squeezed his hand and smiled warmly, and he kissed her hand in response. They made several stops. He told her to imagine it was a "scavenger hunt." He gave her his twinkly-eyed smile when she laughed. It almost made her swoon.
"What's your favorite flavor?" he queried as they walked inside the Mike & Ike store.
"Jolly Joes," she answered.
"I'm a sours fan myself," he answered as he grabbed a box of each.
Next, Owen bought a large box of popcorn from a concessions cart outside Jamba Juice. He then ushered her inside the smoothie shop.
"Same as last time?" he asked her with a wink. Claire honestly wanted something different, but she was tickled that he actually remembered her last drink order and just nodded her head.
Once back on Main Street, she felt a little dazed. "What now?" she wondered out loud.
He grinned, "We finish our drinks on the walk back to your place." It was Claire's turn to be nervous. As much as she enjoyed an efficient meal, she wasn't quite ready for dessert.
The walk to the resort complex seemed to last a lifetime. They didn't talk much between the thick crowd and thick smoothies. Claire kept herself mentally in check. She was giving Owen the benefit of the doubt and not predicting the worst of him. There was a point to the candy and popcorn. He wasn't just trying to worm his way into her apartment.
The Hilton lobby was relatively quiet. Claire felt like she could breathe again. Owen put his hand on the small of her back and whispered in her ear, "The concierge has something for you. Last stop of the scavenger hunt." She blushed as they walked in that direction, Owen's fingers splayed over her hip.
"Miss Dearing," the concierge greeted her before sharing a conspiratorial smile with Owen. "Your package." He passed her a small, red box tied with a bow. "And yours, Mr. Grady." Claire's jaw dropped as he pulled out a bottle of one of the finest reds on the rooftop restaurant's wine list. Owen was clearly pleased with her impressed reaction. He trapped her in his hazel irises for a moment, and the world fell away. "Do you require glasses?" the concierge asked, causing Owen to jump and Claire to let out a faint whimper.
"Uh, no," she stammered. "We're good."
When Claire turned on the lights inside her apartment, Owen remarked with surprise, "You didn't modify the interior from the rest of the hotel rooms?" She tried not to make assumptions about his familiarity with the interior of the Hilton's rooms. She failed.
"I like the designs," she answered, minimizing her arrogance. "I actually had input when it was renovated two years ago."
"Oh," he said sheepishly. "Sorry." He avoided making eye contact and looked around her space. Claire opened the bottle of wine and took two glasses out of her kitchen cabinet. "How long have you lived here?"
"Since the renovation," she replied. "That's when the employee apartments were added."
"Who else has them?"
"Henry Wu, Simon, and Zara and Alec. I had to fight for Zara's. They pushed to have her share Alec's mainland apartment, but I insisted that I needed her close."
"To be at your beck and call?" Owen was smiling, but Claire thought there was a hint of an insult buried in his statement.
"Actually," she almost huffed, "it's terribly difficult to keep pace with the Senior Assets Manager if you live on the mainland. I should know. I was the Assistant Assets Manager up until five years ago." She quirked a brow at him, and it was clear from his expression that he had no idea about her work history.
"You're all about efficiency," he smirked. They sipped from their glasses, and Owen pushed the red box towards her across the counter. "You still haven't opened it." His mouth curved into an exaggerated pout as he stepped close enough to put an arm around her waist. Claire was careful not to disrupt the bow as she slid the ribbon away. The box contained a Blu-ray copy of North by Northwest.
"Your favorite," she said with a warm smile.
"My copy, actually," he answered proudly.
"I'm flattered." She leaned into him. "The scavenger hunt makes sense now."
"I knew you'd need to be wined and dined." He held up his glass for a toast, and she reluctantly brought her glass to his. Her cheeks fought the smile that she had to force. Owen didn't seem to notice her tension and moved to load the movie into the player. Claire desperately wanted to believe that he was being genuine. She wanted to enjoy the high quality vintage of the wine and the cheesy but sweet movie snacks. She didn't want to continue worrying about his reputation. But she couldn't stop.
Claire's jitters manifested themselves by her being more vocal than usual during the movie. She genuinely enjoyed it from the start, and it delighted her to please Owen. To gratify him by liking something dear to him. She laughed loudly when Roger Thornhill's saucy, red-headed mother scoffed at his court hearing and Roger responded with an incredulous, "Mother!" Owen hugged her a little tighter but remained silent.
As they snuggled on her sofa, her vocalizations also served to keep Owen's hands at bay. Claire thrilled at his body against hers even as her internal conflict filled her to the brim. In the moment his fingers began sneaking under the waistband of her pants, she sprang forward and blurted out, "Why did he touch the knife?" She exaggerated her dissatisfaction with the dramatic scene in the United Nations to justify her startle response. She toned it down and teased, "I thought you said this movie was perfect."
"Almost perfect," Owen groaned and pulled her body back to him. His hand rested on her hip, fingers still. Claire relaxed.
She melted into him during the sultry exchange between Roger and Eve Kendall on the train. Claire bit her tongue to prevent herself from exclaiming predictions about Eve's character. When Eve said, "I never discuss love on an empty stomach," Owen nuzzled Claire's hair and whispered, "You relate to that, right?" Claire shivered at this touch but was slightly offended by the insinuation. Owen mirrored the onscreen seduction by stretching the limits of their own embrace, letting his fingers graze anywhere he could reach Claire's skin. He chuckled softly at her involuntary responses. Her little shudders and whimpers almost mimicking those of the female lead. Claire wondered if Owen would attempt to eschew the rest of the movie to further seduce her. She was honestly disappointed - even letting out a small sigh - when his hands settled with the tonal shift in the next scene. Oh, he was good. Two could play that game.
She didn't have to wait long to get Owen back. She ran a hand over his inner thigh when Roger asked Eve, "How does a girl like you get to be a girl like you?" Owen took a sharp intake of breath and followed it with a small grunt. Claire smiled smugly. That smile turned into a closed mouth laugh when Roger told Eve, "I bet you could tease a man to death without half-trying." Claire patted Owen's knee and said tauntingly, "Yeah, I can relate to her."
From that point on, Owen just held Claire close and enjoyed her twitching with the action of the movie. Claire agreed with his assessment of it and relished the return to his perfectly balanced behavior with her. She almost didn't want the movie to end, and only in part due to her nervousness about what the rest of the night might bring.
During the climactic chase scene atop Mount Rushmore, one of Eve's heels snapped off her pump, causing her to fall and get injured. Claire almost jumped off the sofa out of fear. Owen teased, "Wearing heels is treacherous."
"Today's heels are much sturdier," she scoffed as she recovered her composure. "That would never happen to me."
"Sure, Claire. Please try to keep quiet for the conclusion." He was being sarcastic, but it put her somewhat on edge.
Claire tensed further when Owen's fingers moved across her breast on top of her shirt at the movie's end. She thought the final image - a suggestive shot of a train entering a tunnel - was fitting for the characters and consistent with Owen's intentions. She fought to control the trembling in her voice and mused, "You were right. Practically perfect." Owen pounced quickly, shifting their bodies and nuzzling into her neck. He planted soft kisses there and panted, "You're perfect." She winced at this while struggling to control her physical response to his touch. It sounded more like a line than anything he previously said to her.
Just as he had done in her office, Owen flicked open her shirt buttons with extraordinary skill. His movements barely registered with her until she felt his hands on the lace of her bra and heard him moaning into her ear. Reality was getting hazy. She couldn't find the will to resist him at all. Before she knew it, his shirt was gone and he was pressing her into the sofa cushions. His kiss was ferocious. His body was hard and hot. It all felt amazing, but it was going too fast. She wanted to savor it more than he was allowing. As if reading her mind, Owen pulled back to look at her. She sighed, and they both caught their breath.
"I'm sorry," he stammered. "I told you that you do something to me." He sat back while straddling her and looked down at her with adoration. He ran his hands from her hips to her bra and gently squeezed her breasts simultaneously. They shuddered together in obvious pleasure. "Let's move to the bedroom." It was not a request. It sounded like an order.
"Maybe later," Claire said through hooded lids as she reached out to pull him back down. "Keep kissing me." She was desperate for his mouth on hers but wasn't ready to progress their activities yet. He froze momentarily then slid his hands down to her waist.
"Maybe?" Owen almost sneered. Her eyes flew open. He clearly took great offense to what she intended to be an innocuous remark. Perhaps it was a Freudian slip. He looked at her expectantly. She closed her eyes and pawed at him again. He responded by lightly gripping her wrists and pinning her arms. "Maybe or no?" It was Claire's turn to be offended. She wished she could keep her eyes shut and pretend he didn't ask this question. When she opened them, he was wearing that wounded expression from the Aviary. She didn't know what to say. She didn't enjoy being put on the spot and forced into answering. She wanted things to evolve naturally to the point where she'd feel comfortable with the outcome. When she wouldn't answer immediately, Owen let go of her wrists. He pulled himself off her and sat back against the sofa. He avoided making eye contact as she sat up. "I feel like I'm playing The Sims," he opined. Claire's brow furrowed. She knew that was a computer game but had never played it.
"What does that mean?" she asked sympathetically while taking his hand.
"Nothing." He let her go to retrieve his shirt from the floor. After he put it back on, he stood.
"Are you leaving?" Claire felt panicked. She recognized that she wasn't ready to sleep with him in this precise moment, but she didn't want their night to end here. Especially not like this. He still wouldn't look at her and started moving toward her front door. "Owen, please, I..." Her voice trailed off. She wasn't sure what she was begging of him, but she was definitely begging. It made her self-conscious.
He sighed and finally looked at her, "I want you...to catch up to me. I'm getting tired of waiting." She appreciated his honesty. That didn't mean, however, that she was going to compromise her own comfort or apologize for this. She walked up to him and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his lips. He initially resisted opening his mouth to her, but he clasped his arms around her when she started to pull away. Soon, he was kissing her deeply yet tenderly. Her shirt was still somewhere on the floor, and his hands seemed to scorch her bare skin.
Claire moaned loudly when he finally broke their long kiss goodnight. He stroked her cheek and gazed into her eyes. She read the conflict in his expression. "Thank you for tonight," she whispered.
"Anytime, gorgeous," responded Owen, softening in front of her. "I mean it."
"I know," she answered quietly. She wasn't saying it to appease him. She felt the truth of his statement. He gave her a quick peck on the lips before leaving her apartment.
Early Sunday morning, Claire was finishing up a live-streamed spin class on her Peloton when she received a text from Zara. It startled her and almost caused her to stop pedaling. Zara knew not to disturb her boss during this time, and Claire was extra on edge and frustrated after how she left things with Owen on Friday night. Throwing herself into work Saturday and putting the pedal to the metal in her bicycle sneakers this morning had yet to help her mood. Maybe Zara had a park emergency for her to resolve or someone to fire. Either of those could give her the rush she wasn't getting anywhere else. A rush she worried only Owen could provide.
While hopping off the bike, Claire read the full text: "Can you talk after your class? I want to show you something." Claire wrote back that Zara could come over. Her assistant was knocking on her apartment door less than five minutes later.
"That was fast," Claire smirked upon opening the door. Zara looked extremely nervous, and Claire became concerned that something happened with Alec. "Everything okay?"
"You may want to sit down," Zara answered as she plopped herself on the sofa and took her phone out of her pocket. Claire was still drinking from a glass of water and sat next to her. "Marisa Wilkinson posted a photo on Instagram last night."
Claire suppressed a groan and asked dismissively, "What color's her hair NOW?" Marisa was the definition of a party girl and constantly changing her hair, toggling between natural and garish hues.
"Red," Zara replied with a heavy sigh. She was almost trembling as she passed the phone to her boss. Claire was now feeling nervous herself and took another sip of water. Marisa worked in marketing. Claire and Zara mused on numerous occasions that Marisa was better at marketing herself than the park. At least Marisa put her strengths to good use and was always reliable for planning fantastic employee events. When Claire looked at the screen, she almost spit out the water in her mouth.
The photo was of Owen. It was a candid shot, and Claire guessed that he wasn't aware of it being taken. He was in profile and pulling his shirt down over his glorious six-pack abs - her body still humming from their feel on her less than thirty-six hours before. The caption read: "Get in line, ladies. Owen Grady is back, and his body is better than ever."
"Is that Marisa's bedroom?" Claire sputtered. It was probably a dumb question but the first that sprang to mind. Claire didn't have an Instagram account but knew from Zara that Marisa posted a lot.
"Based on her previous photos," Zara answered reluctantly, "yes." Claire wanted to dissolve into her sofa cushions. She squeezed her eyes shut but still saw the image in her head. She felt nauseated. "I'm sorry, Claire. We haven't even chatted about Friday."
"What's the point now?" Claire was embarrassed by how close she felt to tearing up. She wanted Zara to leave. She wanted to wallow in self-hate. When she finally reopened her eyes, Zara was looking back at her with a remorseful expression. It made Claire hurt more. "No, Zara. This is not your fault. It's who he is. I should've anticipated this."
"Will you see him again?" Zara asked hesitantly.
"I don't know. My ego is bruised right now." Claire was unnerved by Zara suddenly unlocking her phone and scrolling through photos. "Please don't show me anything else."
"Maybe you should be flattered," Zara said with a devious smile as she turned the screen toward Claire. It was a photo of Marisa, sporting a bob haircut eerily similar to Claire's but without bangs and in a deeper shade of red.
"You're kidding," Claire stammered. "This is her now?" Zara nodded. "Jesus Christ." She couldn't stop staring at the photo. She recalled Owen's comment at Nobu about other women wanting to be her. Was he specifically referring to Marisa? Claire fell back against the sofa. Her head swam. "Tell me something good."
"You still have that phone call with Qantas later today." Claire laughed. Zara's tone shifted back to being remorseful. "I'm sorry to be the messenger. Was it right for me to tell you?"
Claire bit her lip and turned toward her assistant with a sympathetic smile, "Yes. I'd rather hear it from you than someone else."
"For what it's worth, I haven't heard any gossip about the two of you. If you ended it now, no one would be the wiser." Claire swallowed hard. She knew that last statement wasn't true. She needed to be alone. Zara took the hint and excused herself. Claire resolved not to think about Owen any more today. Maybe not tomorrow either.
Thanks for reading. I hope it was easy to follow even for those readers unfamiliar with North by Northwest. I did my best with the parallels I was trying to draw! Please let me know what you think of the developments to the relationship and my "cliffhanger" :)