Chapter 37
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN
EVEREST
We’re going on a date. Which is exciting and weird all at the same time.
Me, going on a date with Owen Lambert, sounds like the craziest thing ever. And if someone had told me about it a year ago, I would’ve called them delusional.
But somehow, it feels right. We’ve already hit all the other major relationship milestones. We inherited a house together, moved in together, are raising a kid together. We fell in love. All of it kind of backward. And there’s only one thing we never got to do—go on our first date. Things have come full circle and it feels like we’re starting over—the right way this time.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited about going on a date with Owen. Okay, I mean, our moms have planned a kayak tour of the East River, a whiskey tasting at a distillery, and a reservation at some fancy restaurant. It’s all the things we each like most. But it feels more special because we’ll be doing those things together—me and Owen, just the two of us.
We’ve been through a hell of a lot these last six months. So much pain and grief and heartache, but also unbelievable joy, happiness, and love. We’ve had explosive arguments and even more explosive sex. We’ve been at each other’s throats and we’ve been each other’s support too. I think we deserve to have the magic and excitement of a first date.
I stretch my arm across the back of the seat, dragging Owen to me as the rideshare drives us toward Brooklyn Bridge Park for our kayak tour. He grumbles and pretends to put up a fight, but when I tug him closer, he snuggles into my side.
“We should’ve stayed home.”
“Stop it.”
“What if something happens to Ivy?”
“There are four adults in the house. They’ll know what to do. And they have both of our phone numbers.”
“What if we don’t hear our phones ring? What if we drop our phones in the river?” Owen struggles against me as he works himself up. “What if we’re stuck in the middle of the river and can’t get back to shore?”
“Then I’ll push you out of the kayak and you can swim to shore.”
Owen glares at me and I smirk back at him.
“Seriously, babe, you need to chill the fuck out and enjoy the day. They went to all this trouble to plan it for us and it’ll go to waste if you’re worrying the whole time.”
Owen harrumphs, my little grumpy gremlin, but at least he doesn’t keep arguing.
His mood improves when we get out onto the water. Turns out he was on the varsity rowing team in college—which like, of course he did the bougie-est sport ever. His competitive side comes out and he starts showing off, paddling circles around everyone.
Not that he’s better than I am—I’m a water guy too, remember? We end up racing each other all the way to Governor’s Island, leaving the rest of our tour group in our wake.
“Cheater!” Owen shouts at me when I reach the buoy first.
“Sore loser!” I shout back at him.
He narrows his eyes at me, and before I can react, he runs his paddle across the surface of the water, sending a massive spray right at me. I sputter as water soaks through my clothes and drips off my face. I’m stunned, less from the shocking cold and more from Owen’s nerve. He splashed me. He splashed me .
I turn to him and the look on his face tells me he’s as surprised as I am. His mouth hangs open, his eyes are wide with disbelief. The second our eyes make contact he starts paddling backward, trying to escape retribution.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” I dig my paddle into the water and my kayak shoots forward. When I get close enough, I swing my kayak around and it bangs into Owen’s.
The impact knocks him off balance, his kayak rocking precariously back and forth. He throws his arms up in the air to stay upright, but then loses his grip on his paddle and it goes flying across the water.
I burst out laughing, dropping my head back and letting the summer sun shine down on my face.
“Fuck you,” Owen shouts at me before realizing we’re in public. He glances around sheepishly at the parents with their kids. “Sorry!”
“Language, language,” I scold mockingly.
Owen turns his body to hide the middle finger he flashes in my direction.
Still laughing, I retrieve his paddle and bring it back to him. When he takes it from me, he makes a point of poking me in the leg with it before sticking it back into the water. I give him a wink and blow him a kiss.
His lips twitch like he’s fighting off a smile and my chest expands with so much love it feels like I might lift off and float away. Playing with Owen like this, competing with him and teasing him, it’s not something I ever thought I’d do. He used to be so stodgy, so stuck up and boring. And I used to push way too hard, taking perverse pleasure in jabbing him right in his soft, vulnerable spots.
But we’ve found a balance. He’s lightened up and I’ve backed off. The easy give-and-take we have now has been hard-fought, but we did it. And I’ve never been more grateful for having an enemy like Owen. I’ve never been more grateful to Eden and Jeremy for sticking us together.
Would we have gotten here if we didn’t hate each other so much before? If we’d just been acquaintances, polite and civil but distant, we probably would’ve worked together just fine, but that would’ve been all there was.
We needed the animosity. We needed the intense loathing. It’s the only way we would’ve clashed so explosively. It forced us to confront who we were and what we could be—for ourselves, for Ivy, and for each other.
After kayaking, we make our way to the whiskey tasting. As we’re waiting for the tour to start, I quietly slip my hand into Owen’s. He glances down at our clasped hands, then up at me. For a second, I think he’s going to shake me off, but then he adjusts his grip, sliding his fingers between mine. I step in a little closer, pressing my arm against his and my heart does a pitter-patter when he shifts his weight to press back.
During the tour, Owen’s at the front of our little group, pestering the tour guide with a million questions, most of which I don’t understand. Something about pH balances and types of wood and enzymes and shit. But through it all, his thumb rubs little circles across the back of my hand. It’s just a small caress, almost unnoticeable, but it sends tingles of awareness through my whole body. My dick perks up in my jeans, not enough to be obscene, but definitely enough to keep me on my toes and has me counting down the hours until we can be alone again.
The restaurant is across the street from the distillery and they have a partnership where each dish is paired with a different whiskey. Owen scours the menu, consulting his phone for… I don’t even know what. I let him order for us while I do my best to distract him under our table. I trap his feet between mine, rubbing our ankles together and running my toe up the hem of his pants. The only sign he’s bothered by it is his half-hearted attempts to pull his feet out of my clutches.
He hands our menus back to the waiter with a word of thanks then turns to me, eyes half-lidded and dark.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Resting my elbow on the table and propping my chin in my hand, I give him my most innocent look. “What do you mean?”
He smirks and turns the tables on me. His foot slides up my calf to the inside of my knee. I gasp, my breath trapped in my lungs as it travels up my thigh. Thank fucking god the tablecloth goes all the way to the floor.
Owen presses the ball of his foot against my crotch and my dick roars to life, hardening so fast it’s almost painful. I grip the edge of the table and grunt softly as Owen slowly increases the pressure.
His smirk widens into a sultry, evil smile, and his eyes stay locked on mine, unblinking. I don’t dare look away. I couldn’t even if I wanted. I’m caught in his snare, his amber eyes drawing me in and holding me tight. My pulse races as the world narrows to just me and him around this table. The music flowing through the restaurant speakers, the conversations of the diners around us, all of it fades to silence. My whole body is taut, waiting for something, waiting for him.
“You’ve been a bad boy today, Everest.”
I gulp. Fuck. Jesus. My head spins as all the blood in my body rushes to my cock.
“How are you going to make it up to me?”
I make a desperate sound at the back of my throat. Helpless. Pleading. I’ll do anything to make it up to him. Anything. Everything.
“I asked you a question, Everest. It’s not polite to keep me waiting.” Owen’s voice is no more than a rumble that penetrates into my core.
“I— I?—”
“Speechless, are we?” He covers my hand with his own, then pries my fingers from around the table edge.
My hand trembles—hell, my whole body trembles—as he lifts it to his mouth. He plants a kiss in the middle of my palm then, then flattens my hand against his cheek. The prickly hairs of his beard send shivers up my spine.
“Are you going to fuck me?” he murmurs, his lips moving against the heel of my palm. “Fill me up with your giant cock and shoot your cum deep into me?” His foot rotates against my throbbing dick.
I nod. It’s the only response I can manage without making a complete fool of myself in the middle of the public restaurant.
“How are you going to take me?” Owen’s eyes drift shut and his breathing becomes ragged. “Up against a wall? On top of a table? Over the back of a couch?” When he opens his eyes again, they are nowhere near as focused as they were a second ago.
I’m not the only one affected by this. He feels it too. Desire and want. Building slowly but unrelentingly.
“Here we are…”
I snatch my hand back from Owen’s grasp and he drops his foot from between my legs. We both busy ourselves with napkins and cutlery as the waiter sets our plates down in front of us.
When we’re alone again, Owen sneaks a glance across to me and we hold each other’s gaze for a moment.
“Eat fast?” I suggest, no longer interested in a drawn-out meal, even as romantic as this is.
Owen tilts his head in thought before answering. “Take it to go.”
He’s already flagged the waiter down and given him some excuse about some fake emergency before I even realize what we’re doing. Then suddenly we’re in a car, heading toward the hotel room our parents booked for us.
The second the door beeps to unlock and I turn the handle to push it open, Owen crowds up behind me, bundling me inside. I barely have time to drop our takeout containers on the table before Owen shoves me up against a wall.
His body molds to mine like we were made for each other. Our mouths fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. I fill my palms with the rounded globes of his ass, and when I squeeze, pulling him up and into me, he grunts, grinding his erection into mine.
Clothes fly across the room and we tumble into bed, too caught up to waste time folding them. I rub my thumb against that spot on his hip that always makes him shudder. He sucks on the spot on my neck that always makes my cock throb. We know each other so well now. We know how to tease and drag things out. We know what drives the other crazy with lust.
Owen pushes me away and I stumble backward onto the bed.
“On your back,” he orders, popping open the bottle of lube we packed and squeezing out a generous amount.
I rush to comply, flopping onto my back and gripping the base of my cock to keep the damn thing from exploding prematurely.
Owen straddles my thighs and smirks down at me as he reaches behind himself. His eyes roll backward and his lids flutter. His lips part with a gasp, then a shaky exhale.
I watch as his body goes taut. Dark chest hair smattered against pale skin. A delicious treasure trail running down the middle of his stomach. His cock hanging in midair, a drop of pre-cum gathering at the tip.
He shuffles forward, lines himself up, and impales himself on my cock. Tight heat envelops me and my hips lift off the bed, trying to get closer, deeper.
Owen’s body is comfortingly familiar and yet enticingly novel at the same time. A hungry vice around my dick that sends electricity ricocheting through my body like a pinball.
Owen slams himself down on me. The impact makes my vision go white. We’re so in sync, perfectly timed as Owen bounces up and down, meeting my every thrust. His cock smacks against my stomach with a wet, obscene sound. A thin stream of pre-cum leaks from his tip. I grip his hips and he grips my wrists. We’ve got each other, both holding on tight.
Then it clicks.
This is how we did it the first time. All those years ago. At Jeremy’s bachelor party. When we still hated each other.
I run my hands up and down Owen’s muscled thighs. His eyes focus just enough to meet my gaze. He knows that I know and something inside me cracks open wide.
God, I fucking love this motherfucker.
I think I might have all the way back then too. Why else would I hate him so goddamn much for no reason at all? It had to have been love, twisted and contorted into hatred because I didn’t understand it and didn’t know what else to do with it. I wasn’t ready for him then. I wasn’t ready for the all-consuming and soul-transforming love that has turned my life upside down.
But I’m ready now. And I’m going to cherish every fucking moment of it.
Always. Forever.
A sob escapes my throat as I’m overwhelmed by the sentiment. I pull him down for a kiss, needing the intimacy.
Owen’s tongue tangles with mine. His hands trail up my stomach and to my chest. He pinches both nipples until I’m gasping into his mouth. He clenches around my dick and the three points of sensation overload my brain.
I see stars. My orgasm crashes through me as my hips punch up into Owen’s body. Wave after wave. Pleasure cresting like the unrelenting ocean. He milks me with his ass, his fingers still twisting my nipples to the point of pain.
Scalding hot cum lands on my stomach in one spurt after another. With each one, Owen’s ass tightens around me even more, dragging out my pleasure until I’m nothing more than one big mass of firing nerve endings.
I’m consumed. Spent. Emptied. Yet I’ve never felt so full and satisfied in my life.
Owen collapses on me, face pressed against the crook of my neck, his still-hard cock trapped between us. His cum is smeared between our stomachs. He doesn’t try to move, though. He doesn’t roll off to the side or go looking for a towel to wipe up. He lets me wrap my arms around him and hold him to me.
Slowly, our breathing evens out and the sweat cools on our skin. Even then, Owen doesn’t disentangle himself from me.
“See? I told you you like to cuddle,” I murmur in his ear.
“Fuck you,” he says, even as he snuggles closer, tucking his body more securely into mine.
The smile that spreads across my face comes from the deepest part of my soul. “Love you too.”