Chapter 18
OWEN
Frat parties were not my thing.
They hadn’t been since freshman year, but here I was pushing through the front door of Alpha Phi like a man with no other options.
Probably because I didn’t have any other options other than sitting at home and thinking about all the reasons I should stay away from Harlow, and then trying to analyze what kept pulling us back together again.
The bass hit me first. Then the heat, a wall of body temperature that made me immediately regret every choice that led to this moment. The living room was packed shoulder to shoulder, bodies grinding under strobe lights, the air heavy with weed, sweat, and cheap cologne.
“This is gonna be sick,” Bennett shouted directly into my ear, which was unnecessary and painful.
I cut him a look that I hoped communicated my disagreement without requiring me to yell over the music.
Frat parties were never sick. There were too many people stuffed into a house that was usually too hot and smelled like body odor.
They were cheap alcohol and a serious hangover in the morning, and none of that sounded like fun.
Not like the fun I had skating with Harlow.
Stanley clapped me on the shoulder, grinning like we were walking into paradise instead of a basement decorated with Christmas lights. “Dude, lighten up. When was the last time you actually went out?”
I didn’t answer because the honest response was too depressing to admit out loud.
We pushed deeper into the crowd, past girls taking shots in the kitchen, past two guys engaged in what looked like a very serious argument about football, past a couple making out against a wall like they forgot other people existed.
“I’m getting drinks,” Stanley announced, disappearing into the crowd. Bennett followed, leaving me standing alone near a couch that had definitely seen better decades.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and tried to look like I belonged there, but since I was the only sober person in the room, I stuck out like a sore thumb.
“Owen Taylor?” I turned and found myself face-to-face with a cloud of dark hair and too much perfume. “Oh my God, Owen.”
She was tall and thin. Her crop top left little to the imagination, and her shorts were more suggestion than garment. She thrust a solo cup toward me with a smile that was probably meant to be seductive but mostly looked like she forgot how her face worked.
“I brought you a drink,” she announced, swaying slightly.
I recognized her vaguely. One of the puck bunnies who hung around after games, always positioned perfectly for photos with whoever had scored that night. Brittany? Bethany? Something with a B.
“Thanks.” I took the beer mostly because it gave me something to do with my hands, because I seriously doubted it was made for me, considering she just realized I was here.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” She stepped closer, close enough that I could smell the vodka on her breath. “You never come to these things.”
“Yeah, well.” I started to take a sip and changed my mind when the smell hit my nose. “Trying new things.”
“That’s so hot.” She pressed her hand against my chest, fingers splaying wide. Her nails were long and painted neon pink. “I love a guy who tries new things.”
My first instinct was to step back, to extricate myself before this became something I had to deal with. But then another instinct kicked in, the petty, self-destructive one.
I let her flirt. Let her lean into me and run her fingers up my arm while she talked about something I couldn’t hear over the music.
She rose up on her tiptoes, lips brushing my ear. “You should take me home.”
I should want this. She was attractive, willing, and clearly not looking for anything complicated. This was exactly the kind of distraction I came here for.
So why did I feel nothing?
The only thing I could think about was Harlow.
“I, uh…” I started, still trying to formulate an answer that wasn’t pathetically honest.
My gaze shifted over the crowd, desperate for an out, and froze when my eyes landed on her.
Harlow.
She was dancing on the makeshift dance floor, eyes closed, completely lost in the music. Her blonde hair fell in loose waves past her shoulders. She wore a low-cut top that showed a sliver of bare stomach and tight black jeans that sat low on her hips.
Fuck, those hips.
Biting down on my bottom lip, I watched, transfixed, as she raised her arms above her head, the movement pulling her shirt higher, exposing another inch of tan skin.
My gaze narrowed to the hands on her waist.
Jealousy ripped through me.
Captain Perfect. The dark-haired guy from outside her classroom. He stood behind her, fingers gripping her hips, and his body pressed against her back as they moved together. His mouth was close to her ear, probably saying something charming.
“Owen?” The brunette’s voice cut through my haze. “Did you hear me? I said we should get out of here.”
I should leave with her. Let Harlow be. Let her dance with whoever she wanted, kiss whoever she wanted. I told her I would back off. I agreed to let her live her life however and with whoever she wanted.
“Owen?” She tugged at my arm, neon nails digging into my bicep. “Hello? Earth to…”
His hands slid lower, fingers curling possessively around the curve where her thighs began, pulling her back against him.
I saw red.
Every logical thought evaporated. Every reason I built for staying away crumbled to ash. There was only the primal, territorial fury that clawed its way up my throat and demanded action.
I shoved the beer back at the brunette so hard she stumbled slightly. “Sorry, I’m here for someone else.”
“What? But…”
I was already gone, cutting through the crowd as if my entire body had been hijacked.
My chest burned like it was a volcano that just erupted, and my heart pounded against my ribs so hard I thought it might explode.
My clenched fist trembled involuntarily with the type of rage I didn’t even know was possible.
People stumbled out of my way, their drinks sloshing over the rims, and complaints died when they saw my face.
I reached them in seconds.
My hand closed around his shoulder, and I spun him around, putting myself between him and Harlow.
“What the…” He looked up at me. I had at least five inches and forty pounds on him, and I used every bit of it, looming over him with barely contained fury.
“Get your fucking hands off her,” I growled, anger radiating off me in violent waves.
His eyes went wide. Recognition flickered. He knew who I was, and that meant he knew my reputation. His gaze darted to Harlow, then back to me, calculating his odds.
“Dude, we were just dancing…”
“I don’t care.” I stepped closer, and he stepped back. In this moment, I didn’t give a fuck if he was her best fucking friend. He was never going to touch her again. “Leave. Now.”
He surrendered easily, raising his hands in defeat as he disappeared back into the crowd. I watched him go, making sure he didn’t look back, my chest still heaving with adrenaline.
Harlow never stopped dancing. She was completely lost in the music and the alcohol coursing through her, moving her hips, and my heart rate spiked.
The music shifted to something slower. I turned, and she was still moving, her eyes still closed like she hadn’t noticed any of it.
Even though I knew I shouldn’t, I stepped in.
My hands found her waist, settling where his had been, erasing his touch with my own. Her body swayed instinctively toward mine as I pulled her closer. The heat of her seeped through my palms, spreading up my arms, and down my spine, pooling somewhere dangerous.
We moved together. Her back against my front, my hips rolling against hers in time with the music.
She fit against me perfectly, like she was designed for this, for me.
My fingers tightened on her waist as she pressed back harder, grinding against me until all the blood in my body rushed straight to my cock.
I dropped my lips to her ear, letting her feel the heat of my words. “You look so fucking beautiful tonight.”
She froze for a brief moment before she whipped around, eyes flying open, recognition crashing over her.
“Owen?” Her voice was breathy, surprised. But not angry.
Excited.
Something primal and possessive roared to life inside me, and I pulled her close until our bodies were flush together. Her hands came up, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of my neck, sending electricity crackling down my spine.
I held her gaze as we moved and the music pounded around us, but I couldn’t hear anything but the ragged sound of our breathing.
I couldn’t see anything but the blue of her eyes in the strobing darkness.
Her hips rolled against mine, and I matched her rhythm, my hands sliding down to grip her waist, guiding her movements, feeling every shift and sway.
The world disappeared.
There was only her body against mine, her fingers in my hair, her eyes holding mine like I was the only thing she could see, like we were the only people who existed.
I brushed a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear.
My finger traced a path along her temple, over the delicate curve of her cheek.
She shivered under my touch, lips parting slightly, and I followed the line of her jaw down to her throat, feeling her pulse flutter beneath my fingertip.
My thumb brushed across her bottom lip.
I tugged gently, watching the soft pink flesh give beneath the pressure, and her breath hitched as her eyes darkened to something molten.
Then her tongue swept out.
Across the tip of my thumb.
My entire body locked up.
Her teeth caught the tip of my thumb, holding it prisoner before she sucked it gently, as I slowly pulled it free. And holy fuck, it was so fucking erotic my cock throbbed.
I cupped her face in both hands, tilting her chin up, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat, and every nerve ending in my body erupted.