Page 57 of Pumped

TWENTY-ONE

EVEREST

It’s late when I finish brushing my teeth and return to my and Owen’s bedroom for the weekend. Ivy’s fast asleep upstairs and both sets of parents have retreated to their own rooms.

Owen’s tucked into our makeshift bed. Actually, he’s not only tucked in, he’s cordoned himself off with a wall of couch cushions.

“Seriously?” I ask, nudging the cushion closest to me.

He glares at me from under the blankets, pulled up so high that only his face is showing. “What?”

“I’m not going to attack you in the middle of the night, you know.”

The corners of his lips turn down into a little pout. “You’re a notorious cuddler. What if one of our parents barges in here in the morning and finds you wrapped around me like a damn octopus?”

I shoot him a heated look. “What makes you think I’ll be wrapped around you? Maybe you’ll be wrapped around me.”

Owen rolls his eyes. “Not possible. I don’t cuddle.”

“Mmhmm, sure you don’t.” I flick the overhead light off and the room is plunged into darkness. Using the light on my phone, I carefully shuffle my way to the couch.

“I don’t!” Owen protests.

“Whatever you say.” I crawl up the length of the bed and slide in under the covers.

There should be more than enough room for both of us to spread out on the bed, but with the chastity barrier Owen’s erected, I feel like I’m sleeping in a coffin.

I roll onto my side and throw an arm and a leg over the cushions like they’re one long body pillow. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I can just make out Owen’s scowl.

“That’s not what that’s for.”

“I don’t know. It’s pretty comfy, if you ask me.”

“Well, I didn’t,” he grumbles.

“Oh, come on.” I poke him with my foot. “You know you like cuddling with me.”

“I most certainly do not.” He rolls away from me like a sulking child. It’s so freaking adorable.

I inch my foot in his direction, then trail my toes up his leg.

“What are you doing?” He tries to kick me away. “Our parents are upstairs.”

“They’re two floors away. And the door is closed.” I slide my hand toward him, finding the hem of his shirt and slipping underneath to tease the skin at the small of his back.

Owen gasps and reaches back to grab my wrist. “Everest,” he hisses.

“Hmm?”

A beat passes in silence and when he doesn’t reply, I try moving my hand, flattening my palm against his waist. He doesn’t stop me. He doesn’t push me away. I hook my foot around his knee and tug him toward me. Not only does he not resist me, he lets me roll him onto his back.

“We shouldn’t,” Owen breathes.

“Shouldn’t what?” I slither over the cushions separating us and directly into his space. My knee slides in between his. My hand sneaks up his stomach to his chest.

“Shouldn’t…” He gasps when I grind my erection into his hip.

“Shouldn’t what?” I ask again, whispering it against his ear this time.

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