I braced for it. Steeled myself for the regret that would cloud his eyes, the careful distance that would creep into his voice. My fingers curled into the couch cushion beneath me, already preparing for the blow.
Here it comes.
Owen looked at me.
And smiled.
“I’m going to have to tell him you’re staying here,” he said, his thumb hovering over the screen. The phone kept buzzing between us, Jax’s name flashing. “But I’m not ready to tell him about...”
He paused. His eyes held mine.
“Us.”
The word was small but seismic.Us.Like we were a thing now. A real, actual thing with a name and a future and…
I opened my mouth, not entirely sure what I was going to say. Something profound, probably. Something that captured the enormity of this moment, the years of wanting, the relief flooding through me…
“I’m not asking you to be my dirty little secret.”
I closed my mouth.
Owen’s expression softened, his free hand coming up to cup my cheek. His thumb traced the line of my jaw, achingly gentle. “I’m just asking for time to figure out what this is between us before we say anything to anyone else.” He held my gaze, searching. “Is that okay?”
The phone buzzed again. Jax was nothing if not persistent.
I smiled. “I was going to agree.”
His shoulders relaxed. I hadn’t even noticed how tense they had gotten. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I reached up and smoothed the furrow between his brows. “Besides, I don’t think Jax needs to know what you just did to me.”
Owen huffed out a laugh, the tension bleeding out of him entirely. His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Probably not.”
“I mean, I could tell him,” I smirked. “Give him a detailed play-by-play. Really paint a picture…”
“Harlow.”
“...I’m very descriptive when I want to be…”
“Harlow.”
“He might appreciate the literary quality…”
Owen silenced me with a firm, quick kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes were bright with amusement. “He willneverknow that.”
“Never?”
“Not if I have anything to say about it.” He pressed his lips to my forehead. Then he climbed off me, and I immediately missed the weight of him. “Now behave yourself while I manipulate the truth to my best friend.”
I propped myself up on my elbows, watching him scrub a hand through his disheveled hair in a futile attempt to look like he hadn’t just been ravishing his best friend’s stepsister.
“You might want to take a breath first,” I suggested. “You look like you just committed a crime.”
“I feel like I just committed a crime.”
“A good crime, though. A victimless crime.”
“Tell that to my conscience.” But he was smiling as he said it, and when he finally answered the phone. “Hey, man. What’s up?”
