“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.”
CHAPTER 27
OWEN
The pizza boxsat open on the coffee table, steam still rising from the pepperoni and cheese. Beside it, a container of buffalo wings, and two bottles of Coke.
I had been sitting on that couch for approximately seven minutes, pretending to scroll through my phone, pretending I wasn’t hyperaware of every sound coming from the bathroom. The rustle of the shower curtain. The soft thud of feet on tile. The click of the door opening.
After we left the rink, we stopped by her house to grab some of her things.
I helped her set up in the spare room, showed her where the extra towels were, and tried to act like a normal human being instead of someone who had his face between her thighs less than three hours ago.
Now I was sitting here like an idiot, my knee bouncing, my attention split between the pizza getting cold and the hallway that led to…
Harlow emerged from the bathroom, and all the blood from my head rushed to my cock.
She was wearing shorts. Tiny scraps of fabric that barely covered anything. Her tank top was thin, clinging to hercurves, and her hair was down, falling in damp waves over her shoulders, darker than usual from the water.
She looked like something out of a fantasy.
“Pizza’s here,” I said.
She smiled, padding toward me on bare feet, and the sight of her walking through my apartment as if she belonged here did something complicated to my chest. Something that felt suspiciously like contentment mixed with possessiveness mixed with the overwhelming urge to throw her over my shoulder and carry her to my bed.
“Smells amazing.” She dropped onto the couch beside me, close enough that her knee bumped against mine. “I’m starving.”
“You should be. You burned a lot of calories today.”
Her cheeks flushed pink, and she reached for a slice of pizza without meeting my eyes. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”
