Chapter 12
CHAPTER
TWELVE
OWEN
I hit the wall with an oomph that expels all the air from my lungs. What the— Did he just?—
My lips curl into a snarl as I glare up at Everest. No, not glare. What’s stronger than glare? Stronger than glower. Stronger than looking daggers. How fucking dare he put his hands on me?
And why is heat racing through me, pooling in my groin?
Everest seems to realize what he’s done a second later. His eyes go wide in shock and his jaw goes slack. His hands loosen from my arms and he lifts them away. His weight shifts like he’s about to step back.
“I’m—”
I don’t let him finish. I grab the front of his hoodie with both fists and spin us around. With my forearm across his upper chest, I pin him against the wall where I was a second ago.
He thinks he can talk to me like that and just walk away? He thinks he can manhandle me, then toss up an apology like it’s nothing? I’ve had to put up with his bullshit for weeks and I’ve had enough of it. I’ve had enough of his laissez-faire attitude, his juvenile eye rolls, his non-existent approach to parenting. I’m trying to do things right and he’s undermining me left, right, and center.
Everest gasps quietly, then lets out a shaky breath. His Adam’s apple bobs and a shudder runs through him. His eyes go a little dazed.
I sense more than see or feel his hands move. They float through the air slowly, inching closer and closer until they land feather-light on my hips. A shiver runs up my spine at the touch, hot even through layers of clothing.
They just rest there for a moment that seems to stretch into eternity. Then his fingers flex, tightening his grip.
Heat floods my veins as blood rushes to my dick. Memories of that night in Vegas flash across my mind. The hardness of his body against mine. Our bruising kisses. The thickness of his cock as he stretched me open. How full I felt when he bottomed out. The way his hands branded my skin.
Like they’re doing now.
I don’t think. I react. My lips slam against Everest’s so hard my teeth hurt. But the whimpering sound Everest makes and the way he softens under my assault obliterates any note of pain.
He opens for me like he’s hungry for my tongue and slides down the wall an inch to give me better access. When I lick into his mouth he jerks my hips flush against his. He’s as hard as I am and I can’t help but grind our erections together.
Goddamn, this feels good. So much better than my memories from that night. So much better than it has any right to.
I bite his bottom lip, then make him suck my tongue. He’s so eager for it, chasing me back into my mouth when I withdraw. My head spins. My balls draw up tight.
Everest’s hands moved from my hips to my ass, palming my ass cheeks and kneading them with his strong fingers. My hole twitches, keen on joining in on the action, aching to be filled.
Everest’s fingers press the seam of my pants into my crease. He doesn’t get nearly deep enough to touch my hole, but the effect is the same. I shudder and my cock pulses. My fingers tingle and my toes curl.
I could come like this. From nothing more than kissing Everest, from humping him. Like some teenager who has no control over his body.
What am I doing? This is Everest. I don’t like Everest. He’s annoying. He’s childish. But more than that, we have to live together and work together for the foreseeable future. We can’t get involved like this. I need to stop.
Grasping at any remaining threads of rational thought in my mind, I find the strength to fling myself away from him, stumbling over my feet and almost landing on the floor. My head is swimming and I can’t seem to suck in oxygen fast enough. My dick is so hard, it feels like it’s going to burst through the zipper. I wipe the back of my hand across my lips. They’re bruised and swollen and sore.
Everest looks the same way I feel. He’s slumped against the wall, legs barely able to hold him up. His gray sweatpants are tented and his chest rises and falls with his rapid breaths. He looks dazed.
Slowly, his eyes blink open and his gaze collides with mine. The heat in them steals my breath away. He wants me. Just as much as my body wants him. It would be too easy to give in to the lust. But that way lies madness. We can’t.
I pull myself together, smoothing out my clothes, running my fingers through my hair. I shove my lingering arousal deep, tamping it down and locking it away. I’m a parent now. I have Ivy to think of. I can’t indulge in whatever whims come my way. My wants, especially preposterous ones like sleeping with Everest, have to come second.
When I finally have myself under control, I lift my gaze to Everest. “Don’t ever do that again,” I say with as much poise as I can muster. I’m impressed with how steady my voice is, considering I’m feeling anything but steady inside.
Everest’s eyebrows shoot up and his jaw drops. “Me? I didn’t fucking do anything. You’re the one who kissed me.”
I draw myself up to my full height, unwilling to acknowledge that Everest is technically correct. I did kiss him. But only because he shoved me against the wall first. If he hadn’t touched me, if he hadn’t gotten all up in my face, this would never have happened.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I spit out, sounding too derisive, too defensive, too harsh. Even to myself. But I have no other choice. It’s this or succumb to the arousal raging inside me.
Before my eyes, Everest transforms. The soft languidness of his body is replaced with tightly coiled tension. The arousal in his soft blue eyes hardens into steel.
He pushes off the wall, advancing toward me. His clothes are still disheveled and his hair is in disarray. His lips are puffy and red. He doesn’t bother to straighten himself out.
“What the hell is your problem? Why do you have it out for me? You always have. From the moment we met. I’ve never done anything to you, but you’re constantly on my case about shit that doesn’t matter.”
He stops an inch away from me, puffing himself up to appear taller, broader, bigger. Anger radiates off him, palpable in the air. It’s the perfect fuel for mine.
I stab him with a finger to the chest. “Because you’re an immature and irresponsible child. You don’t take anything seriously. Everything is a joke to you. All you care about is having fun while the rest of us have to hold down jobs and pay the bills and be adults.”
My words land with laser-guided precision. Everest tries to hide it, but I can see the hurt shining through his irritation and disbelief.
For a split second, guilt surges through me. Everything I said is true. Or at least, it used to be true. Even I have to admit that Everest has stepped up in the past few weeks. But a few weeks of good behavior doesn’t mean he’s a different person now. It doesn’t mean he won’t change his mind about raising Ivy and decide he’s better off joyriding from one beach town to the next.
I shove the guilt aside. I don’t have time to baby Everest and his sensitive feelings. If he really wants to be treated like an adult, then he needs to suck it up and prove he deserves it.
We’re staring each other down, neither of us budging, the air around us crackling with tension. Then without warning, Everest spins away and snatches his coat off the hanger.
What the fuck is he doing? “You’re leaving?”
He doesn’t answer me as he pulls on his coat and stuffs his feet into his shoes.
Panic spikes through me and my hands curl into fists, nails digging painfully into my palms. I want to stop him, I realize. I want to grab him and strip that damn coat off him. I want to make him stay and— and— fuck, I don’t know. Don’t let him get to you, Lambert.
Every muscle in my body is tensed. It’s the only way to keep myself from physically rushing him. Everest wants to leave? Fine, let him fucking leave. He’s just proving my point: he’s not cut out for the tough shit. He runs at the first sign of trouble.
He flings open the front door, throwing a parting phrase over his shoulder. “Don’t wait up.”
And then he's gone.
I stare at the back of the door for long moments before my muscles gradually loosen. I collapse into a heap on the floor.
I want to punch something. I want to rage. I want to tear shit apart and roar while I’m at it. My eyes sting with unshed tears and a sob works its way up my throat. I can’t stop it. I can’t hold it back. It escapes as I clamp a hand over my mouth.
I’m so tired. I’m just so goddamn tired. I never asked for this. I never wanted any of this.
Sadness and grief crash into me like a tidal wave. They snag me in their current and drag me out to sea, pushing me under thousands of gallons of water. I can’t breathe. I can’t tell which way is up. Everything is dark and thick and crushing.
God, I miss Jeremy so fucking much. He wasn’t just my big brother. He was my best friend. He always watched out for me, always had my back. He let me tag along with him and his friends when we were kids and never made fun of me if I wanted to play with “girl” toys.
As adults, we saw each other all the time. I came over for brunch and dinner at least every other week. He was the first person I went to when I needed to get something off my chest and the first person I called up when I had good news to share.
And now he’s gone. He’s just fucking gone. For no good reason. Because of a stupid freak accident.
How am I supposed to do this? How am I supposed to live his life and raise his kid? I don’t know how to do any of it. I’m not prepared. I’m not equipped. It’s too much. It’s just too goddamn much.
“Uncle Owen?”
Still sitting on the floor, I spin away from the stairs and the sound of Ivy’s small voice, wiping frantically at my face. She doesn’t need to see my tears. She doesn’t need to see me fall apart. She needs me to be strong.
“Are you crying?” Her voice is closer now.
“What? Oh, uh, no, I mean, um, just a little.” I dig my handkerchief out of my pocket. It’s still soiled and a little damp from Ivy’s tears earlier. I add mine to the mix.
Short arms come around my shoulders and wrap across the front of my neck. Ivy leans her small weight against me, her cheek pressed to my ear.
“It’s okay. I’m sad too.”
Fuck if that doesn’t make fresh tears spring to my eyes.
I nod, patting her clasped arms. “Yeah, I know. It’s okay to be sad.”
“We can be sad together.”
Jesus Christ. How does this six-year-old girl contain so much wisdom in her little body? I take a deep breath, drawing on the comfort she’s offering and letting it soothe my hurt like a balm on a wound.
I don’t know how to do this. I’m not convinced I can. A part of me wants to give up and quit, but I can’t do that. For Ivy, this precious, smart, strong little girl, I have to try. No matter how hard it is or how demanding, I owe it to her and to Jeremy to persevere and give it my all.
I smile, despite the pain still permeating every part of me. This is not easy, but at least I’m not alone.
“Yeah, we can be sad together.”