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.
