Chapter 26
HARLOW
My footsteps echoed off the concrete as I walked through the empty hallways of the arena, unable to suppress my smile.
Owen was jealous. Actually, visibly, hilariously jealous.
I wanted to laugh. Years I spent watching him talk to other girls, smile at them, lean in close while they giggled and touched his arm.
And now it was his turn.
The way his jaw tightened when Jace sat down next to me, the way his knuckles went white around his water bottle like he was physically restraining himself from storming up those stairs.
Petty. Definitely unhealthy, yet absolutely delicious.
I rounded the corner toward the locker rooms, still riding the high of it all.
An arm locked around my waist from behind. Another clamped over my mouth.
Terror shot through me, and my heart pounded violently against my ribcage. I tried to scream, but the hand muffled the sound. My wide eyes dashed around trying to find an escape option as my mind raced. There was no one around, nothing to grab.
I was fucked.
My body went rigid as I was dragged backward.
No. No, no, no.
I sucked in a desperate breath through my nose.
And froze.
That scent was imprinted on my soul. Something that made my terror evaporate.
Owen.
He pulled me through a doorway into darkness, one of the old, unused coaches’ offices. The door clicked shut, cutting off the hallway light.
He released me, and I whipped around. I couldn’t see him, couldn’t see anything, but I knew it was him.
A solid wall of muscle pressed against my body, backing me up until the concrete wall met my spine, and his hand came up to my throat. Not squeezing. Just resting there, palm warm against my neck as his thumb traced the line of my jaw.
“Owen?” My voice came out breathy. “Did you just kidnap me?”
“Maybe.” A low rumble in the darkness.
My pulse hammered against his hand as his other hand found my hip, fingers pressing in just enough to make me gasp.
He held me pinned between the wall and the solid heat of his body.
I had never been more aware of every point of contact, his chest against mine, his thigh between my legs, his breath warm on my face.
“Are you still jealous?” The question came out like a challenge.
His hand tightened on my throat. Not enough to restrict airflow, just enough to make my skin prickle.
He leaned in, lips brushing mine. “Jealous doesn’t even begin to cover it.” His breath was hot against my mouth. “I wanted to fucking end him for even talking to you.”
My breath hitched as his thumb traced my bottom lip. “I wanted to walk up those stairs and claim you right there. Let everyone know...”
He stopped, and the sudden silence was deafening.
My chest felt too tight. “Let everyone know what?”
I could feel the tension in his body, the war playing out between what he wanted to say and what he thought he should. His hand was still on my throat, thumb tracing the hollow beneath my jaw.
“Mine.”
His lips crashed against mine, my lips parted, and the world caught fire as his tongue slid into my mouth.
I kissed him back hard, fisting his shirt and pulling him closer.
I wanted him to understand that this feeling, this possessive, consuming, absolutely unhinged feeling, was exactly what I’d been living with for years.
The hand on my throat tightened, and I sucked in a sharp breath. His other hand slid from my hip to my ass, gripping hard and pulling me against him, pressing the evidence of his desire against my stomach.
“You’re mine,” he growled between kisses. “Say it.”
“I’m…” I tried, but he bit my bottom lip, and the words dissolved into a moan.
“Say it, Harlow.”
“I’m yours.” The admission came out broken. “I’ve been yours for so fucking long.”
He groaned as his mouth moved to my jaw, my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin below my ear, and my knees buckled. The hand on my throat was the only thing keeping me upright.
His mouth was back on mine, swallowing my moan as his hands slid down to my thighs, lifting me off the ground. My legs wrapped around his waist, locking at the ankles, and he carried me deeper into the dark room.
He had all the control, and the thrill of it burned through every vein. My back scraped against a wall, then we turned, and my thighs hit something hard and cool. A desk? I didn’t know, didn’t care.
His hands pushed under the hem of my hoodie, sliding up my sides, his palms rough and warm as they found the thin fabric of my sports bra. He cupped and squeezed my breasts over the material, his thumbs finding my nipples and rubbing slow, firm circles. A low, needy sound escaped my throat.
He kissed me harder, his tongue thrusting deeper into my mouth, and I arched into his touch, fingers tunneling into his hair.
“Quiet,” he breathed. “Someone will hear.”
The warning only made the heat between my legs tighten, a sharp, sweet ache. I broke from the kiss, my chest heaving for air. “Then make it quick.”
A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest.
He grabbed my hoodie, and I raised my arms, letting him pull it off. The cool air hit my skin, goosebumps rising, but his body heat followed instantly.
He shoved my sports bra up as he lowered his head and took one tight peak into his mouth, sucking hard, igniting a wildfire of sensations. I cried out, my head falling back.
“Shh.” The vibration against my skin made me tremble.
He covered the aching tip with his tongue, gently biting down, before moving to the other side and paying it the same devastating attention, sucking, licking, teasing, until I was writhing beneath him, hips rolling uselessly, desperately seeking friction.
Fingers hooked into my leggings and panties, dragging them down in one slow pull. Warm hands curled around my knees, spread my thighs wider.
His mouth left my nipple and began a slow, torturous descent, kissing the hollow between my collarbones, the valley between my breasts, and tracing a wet line down my stomach. He kissed my hip bone, the stubble along his jawline a delicious abrasion, and nipped at my inner thigh.
I jerked. “Owen, please.”
He ignored me, kissing his way down one thigh, up the other, breath ghosting over my pussy but never touching. The ache became a throbbing pulse. I was wet, open, ready, and he was driving me insane. I bucked my hips forward, a silent, frantic plea.
He hummed against my center and nearly stole my breath. “Tell me you’re mine.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a demand. All the years of silent longing condensed into this moment in the dark.
I whimpered, the truth spilling out of me. “I am yours. I’ve always been yours. Owen, please…” The last word shattered as his mouth finally closed over me.
His tongue swept through my slick flesh in one long, firm stroke.
My hands flew to his hair, holding him there.
He licked into me in shallow, rapid thrusts, before swiping up and focusing on my clit, sucking gently, swirling until my legs shook, and my cries became ragged sobs that I tried to stifle against my arm.
A finger pressed against my entrance. He pushed inside slowly, one thick digit filling me, stretching me. The sensation was overwhelming as he curled his finger, finding a spot that made my body convulse.
“Quiet, baby,” he murmured against my skin.
He added a second finger as he pumped them in and out. The wet, slick sounds were obscene and loud in the quiet room.
Pressure coiled deep in my belly, tight and hot. My breath came in short, sharp pants. Every nerve ending was alive, focused solely on the points where his mouth and fingers connected with my body.
“I’m gonna…”
His fingers went harder, deeper, his tongue flicking against my clit.
A bolt of pleasure shot through me in an electric wave that radiated outward.
My back arched off the desk, a silent scream locked in my throat as the climax ripped through me.
He didn’t let up, licking and sucking me through the convulsions, drawing out the sensation until it was almost too much, until I was weakly pushing at his head.
He lifted his head. In the darkness, I could hear his ragged breathing and feel the heat of his body between my legs. He slowly slid his fingers from me, bringing his hand to my lips.
“Open up for me, baby,” he purred. “I want you to see what you taste like when I make you cum.” My lips parted, and he slid two fingers into my mouth.
My lips closed around his fingers as I sucked, eliciting a low groan from him.
He slowly pulled them free, running the wetness over my lip and down my chin.
“Fuck.” My voice was raw as my hands fisted in his shirt. “My turn.”
I shoved him from between my legs and slid off the table. He let himself be guided until the desk hit his thighs.
My fingers trailed down his chest, over the hard planes of his stomach, feeling muscles jump.
I dropped to my knees.
The world narrowed to the line of his body, the thick bulge straining against his pants. I hooked my fingers into his waistband.
“Harlow…”
I didn’t let him finish. I tugged everything down. He sprang free, and I wrapped my hand around his thick cock as I leaned forward, taking him into my mouth.
The sound he made was a punched-out groan. His hands slammed down on the desk behind him. “Fuck.”
I swirled my tongue around his wide head, tasting him. Exploring the throbbing vein underneath and teasing him before I took him deeper until he hit the back of my throat.
I pulled back, licking the sensitive tip. “All for me.”
“All for you.” The words strained. “Fuck, your mouth… it’s fucking perfect.”
I worked him in long, slow strokes, taking him deeper each time.
“You’re teasing me.” His fingers tangled in my hair. Not guiding. Just holding. “Such a fucking tease.”
I smiled around him before I drew him in deeper, holding him there until my eyes watered, before pulling off with a wet pop. “You like it.”
“I love it.” He hissed. “I love that you are on your knees for me.”
His words, filthy and direct, sent a fresh bolt of lightning straight to my core. I dove back down, taking him as deep as I could. His grip in my hair tightened, just shy of painful. The control was shifting, sliding from my eager mouth to his commanding hands.
“I’m close,” he warned. “So fucking close.”
I doubled my efforts, hollowing my cheeks, one hand slipping down to cup him. I massaged gently, and his whole body shuddered.
Then both his hands were in my hair. “I’m going to fuck this pretty mouth now. You took your turn. Now it’s mine.”
I slid my hands to his thighs, bracing myself.
He pulled my head forward as his hips thrust forward, sliding deep into my throat. I relaxed my jaw, letting him set a brutal pace.
“Just like that, baby,” he grunted, movements growing frantic.
The pressure built, and I could taste his impending release.
He tried to pull back, but I didn’t let him.
My hands clenched on his thighs, holding him in place as I surged forward, taking him deeply.
A ragged cry tore from his lungs. “Harlow.”
His climax erupted, hot and pulsing, directly down my throat. I swallowed convulsively. His hand tightened in my hair, holding my face firmly against him until he was completely empty.
His grip loosened, and he slid from my lips.
I slumped back on my heels, gasping.
Voices echoed from somewhere outside.
“We should probably get out of here,” I said.
“Probably.”
I reached out blindly, finding his hand as he helped me to my feet. Our fingers threaded together. He pulled me into him, and we stood like that for a long moment, only breaking free when the voices got closer.
I stumbled around in the darkness, finding clothes, quickly redressing.
“Ready?” He took my hand.
“Yeah.”
He pulled me toward the door, and we stumbled into the hallway, blinking like creatures emerging from a cave. His hair was a disaster. His lips were swollen and red. He looked thoroughly ravished, and the satisfaction blooming in my chest was probably unhealthy.
“Do I look as wrecked as you do?”
Owen’s eyes traveled over me slowly.
“Worse. So much worse.”
“Fantastic. Very subtle.” I tried to pull my hoodie higher. “No one will suspect a thing.”
“Harlow.” He caught my hand, pulled it away from my neck. His eyes had gone dark again. “Leave it.”
“Owen, everyone will...”
“Good.”
The word hung between us. A challenge. A claim. A promise that maybe he was tired of hiding, too.
“You want people to know what we just did?”
“I want…” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what I want. I know that the idea of covering up evidence that I’ve been kissing you makes me want to put my fist through a wall.”
“That’s very caveman of you.”
“I’m aware.” He tugged me closer, pressed a quick, hard kiss to my lips. “I’m not proud of it. But I’m not apologizing for it.”
Voices echoed down the hall, his teammates, probably, emerging from the locker room. Owen’s hand tightened on mine for a second before he let go, putting respectable distance between us.
The loss of contact felt wrong. Everything about pretending felt wrong.
But we agreed. Time to figure things out. Time to be sure.
Stanley rounded the corner first, followed by Bennett. Their eyes zeroed in on us.
“Well, well, well.” Bennett’s grin was shit-eating. “What do we have here?”
“Nothing,” Owen said flatly.
“Right. Nothing. That’s why you both look like you just fought off a wild animal.”
“Or each other,” Stanley added.
I lifted my chin and met their stares. “I tripped. Owen caught me. We both hit a wall.”
“A wall.”
“It was very dark,” I said. “Very confusing. Lots of walls.”
“So many walls,” Owen agreed.
The guys exchanged looks that said they didn’t buy it, but Owen slung his arm around my shoulders, casual, friendly, a gesture that could mean nothing or everything.
“Come on, Har.” His hand moved from my shoulder to the small of my back, possessive, hidden from view. “Let’s get you home before you trip into any more walls.”
“Good idea. I’m very clumsy today.”
“Right,” Stanley muttered.
Owen flipped him off over his shoulder as we walked away, and the guys burst into laughter behind us.
“That was subtle,” I murmured once we were out of earshot.
“About as subtle as a freight train.”
“They definitely know.”
“They definitely think they know.”