HARLOW
My footsteps echoedoff 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.
