Page 47 of Pumped

I chuckle under my breath. Sure, if he needs the liquid courage, we can have a drink. Wordlessly, I turn and lead the way downstairs.

In the living room, there’s a mini-bar hidden in a cabinet. I open the door and reach for a random bottle. I’m more of a beer guy, but Jeremy was all about his liquors, so the cabinet is stocked.

“Not that one. The Lagavulin is better for a nightcap.”

I cock an eyebrow at Owen and he has the decency to blush.

“What? It’s true.”

“Okay, Mr. Bougie,” I say, rolling my eyes.

His brow furrows and the corners of his mouth turn down into a frown.

“Easy! I’m just kidding!” I grab his arm and give him a light shake.

His frown smooths out a fraction, but he still looks unhappy. I pull him toward me, looping my arms around his shoulders. He resists me for a moment before relaxing into me. His hands come to rest lightly on my hips.

“You know I like to tease,” I murmur.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” he grumbles.

“But where would be the fun in that?”

He harrumphs, but there’s a tiny smile on his lips. He looks so adorably grumpy, a little grumpy gremlin. I can’t resist. I leanin and give him a quick peck on the corner of his mouth. He takes in a sharp breath, then melts against me.

We stand there for a moment, foreheads touching, savoring each other. The weight of another person, the warmth of their body, the gentle movements of their breathing.

Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined standing here like this with Owen. We’ve always been so hostile toward each other. We could never be in the same room without an argument breaking out. But when I put aside my need to poke and prod at him, everything changed.

I never realized it before, but there’s something about being with Owen that feels effortless. I don’t have to crack jokes or be silly. I don’t have to goof off or be the life of the party. I don’t have a reputation to live up to. I can justbe.

So maybe I’ve been the problem all along.

Slowly, I ease myself away from Owen and turn back to the mini-bar. I reach for the Lagavulin—because it’s better for a nightcap—and pour two glasses. When I hand one to Owen, he takes it and immediately throws the whole thing back before setting the glass down with athud.

I stare at him in surprise. I don’t know much about scotch, but I’m pretty sure this stuff is pricy. Like, way too pricy to pour down your throat without tasting it.

Also, I never took Owen for a down-it-like-a-shot type person.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Owen asks, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

I glance at his empty glass, then back at my full one. I guess there isn’t really anything to wait for. Or rather, I think we’ve waited long enough.

I toss back the scotch and it goes down nice and smooth, heating me from the inside out. The second my glass is on thecounter, Owen grabs my face and yanks me in to slam his mouth across mine.

I stumble forward, catching myself with an arm around his waist. Owen isn’t messing around. He shoves his tongue between my lips like he’s trying to lick my tonsils and the invasion sends all the blood in my body rushing to my cock.

He pushes me against the wall and plasters himself against me. When the bulge of his erection meets mine, we both shudder and moan. I grab his hips, holding him still as I grind our cocks together. I slide my hands back to fill my palms with his rounded ass.

God, I want to get in there. I want to bury myself deep and touch Owen where no other man has ever touched him before. I want to watch him go wild with pleasure, drive him crazy with lust, and make him crave my cock. I want him with a primal need that I haven’t felt in a very long time.

Owen clamps his teeth on my bottom lip and tugs. The pain makes my cock throb and my balls ache. I whimper when he releases his bite and soothes my bruised lip with his tongue.

“I want you to fuck me,” Owen whispers and I shiver at the thought. “Hard and fast. Can you do that, Everest? Can you fuck me like you mean it?”

Pleasure ricochets through me at his words. My skin tingles and my stomach tightens. I nod, frantically, digging my fingers into his ass.

“Good.” Owen steps back and I whine in protest. But he takes my hand and marches toward the basement stairs.

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