Free Leashed (Going to the Dogs) by Zoe Dawson

back on the couch. She saw him do the same. Without a word, he went and put in the DVD and pressed the remote.
    “I’m curious about something,” she said, keeping her eyes on the TV screen.
    “What?” he said as the opening credits began.  
    “You said your great aunt thought that you were lonely. With so many people in your life, the club, the women, why would she think that? It baffles me.”
    A look of hollowness crossed his face and he turned to look at her. “You can be lonely in a crowd when no one really knows you or cares who you really are.”
    She met his eyes, then dropped her head forward, her hair covering her face. Finally, she nodded. “I see.”
    She started to pull her hair back and he touched her wrist. “Don’t.”
    She let it fall. It was the only thing she would give him at this moment.

 
    Chapter Six
     
    Owen felt the pressure against his chest. Even in sleep he knew it was good. He snuggled closer to the intoxicating, warm scent. Soft hair brushed against his nose and his eyes popped open. He found Callie’s head nestled in the crook of his arm, his cheek resting on the top of her head, her sweet-smelling hair just below his nose.
    The gray light of dawn filtered through his floor-to-ceiling windows. The busy city’s racket lessened at night, so the volume of the traffic noise below made him think it was about six a.m.
    He’d had so much fun with her last night. It was a mixture of camaraderie and sexual need all rolled up into one achingly tempting package. She was truly a one-of-a-kind woman. Somewhere between his confession about his childhood and the easygoing nature of Callie, he’d lost something—the barrier that kept his emotions in check. He wasn’t sure he could replace it now that Callie had gotten a foothold.
    He frowned, remembering that she had said she’d been on a date with a doctor. He wondered if she planned to see the guy again. He was stunned at the intensity of the anger and loss he felt just thinking about another man wooing Callie. Owen wasn’t usually a jealous man. It had been live and let live, but this time he felt differently. He felt differently about Callie.
    He had to cringe when he thought about his past, with the parade of beautiful women in and out of his life. The club had given him the prestige he’d sought, given him the image he needed to fuel his reckless abandon, and provided plenty of women more than willing to fulfill his superficial and physical needs.
    But somewhere between his great aunt’s death and meeting Callie, something had shifted in him. Where he once reveled in the Scoop’s “ Woman of the Week” column about him, he now wished that they would move on to gossip about someone else.
    Callie was a real, giving person. That’s why last night he’d been hypersensitive to the sexual chemistry they shared. He didn’t want her to think she was some kind of conquest, but he wanted the woman bad. His morning hard-on was inconvenient and only made matters that much worse. She shifted against him, and he could tell by her breathing that she was awake.
    “Looks like we fell asleep. Would you like some breakfast?”
    She stirred and her head fell back against his shoulder. “Even in sleep, I can’t seem to keep away from you.”
    He smiled. His heart hurt, twisting with all the emotion trapped inside. He wanted to kiss her so badly, but knew that wasn’t a good idea.
    “Breakfast, like you’ll run down to the bagel place kind of breakfast?” she asked.
    He laughed softly. “You don’t think I could cook a few lousy eggs and fry some bacon?”
    “Wow. That sounds good. I’m usually a cold cereal kinda gal.”
    Callie moved away from him, and he just enjoyed watching her yawn and stretch, seeing the way her hair tumbled around her face, and the drowsy cast to her just-opened-eyes.  
    “I think I’ll pass.” She sat up, then looked over at Jack and groaned. “I don’t think he’ll want to budge. He looks so