Page 79 of Pour Decisions
“Nooooo,” he groaned sleepily, his arms wrapping tighter around me. “Do we have to?”
“I’m afraid so, QB,” I said. “Or did you forget you have to get all pretty and have your picture taken today? And then we’ve got the charity gala tonight!”
The trip to New York had been fortuitous on that front, allowing Owen to accept an invitation to a charity function supporting at-risk youth across the country. I’d never known that particular struggle myself, and I knew Owen hadn’t either, but with platforms as large as ours, we couldn’t in good conscience not support something so underfunded and vital to the survival of our society.
Owen’s hand swept down my spine, his fingers sinking into my ass hard enough that I yelped as he growled, “Don’t call me pretty.”
“Don’t grab my ass.”
His eyes flew open, and apparently I’d faked discomfort better than I thought, because his hand was gone in an instant.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, trying to snake his other arm out from beneath my body. “I wasn’t thinking.”
I locked my fingers into the front of his shirt to hold him still, to keep him near, a laugh bursting free. “I was joking, QB. I kinda like it when you get all possessive and squeezemy ass like that.”
Owen made a deep, low sound in the back of his throat that rumbled over my entire body. Once again, his palm settled over one of my cheeks, the tips of those long, thick fingers lightly digging into the bare flesh around my underwear. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Whiskey.”
“Why not?” I asked, my voice going breathy as my heart rate sped.
He responded by sliding his hand down to the back of my thigh and hooking it over his hip, slipping his own between my legs. A breath away from my core, the insistent throbbing of my pulse in my clit begged for friction. The hard length of his cock pressed between us, and my mouth went dry. Even through his boxer briefs, his size was evident.
Fuck, how badly I wanted to shed my panties, pull his shorts down, and shift until he could slide inside me. It was obvious he wanted me equally as bad.
“We don’t have time for all the things I plan to do to you.”
His words sent a shiver through me, goosebumps raising on my skin, and his answering chuckle was nothing short of wicked.
Before I did something rash like make him prove it, I shoved hard on his chest, his hold on me breaking and sending me tumbling off the couch to the floor. I was back on my feet in an instant, collecting my clothes and rushing to the door and out into the hall, Owen’s dark laugh following me the whole way.
I thought distance from Owen during the photoshoot would quell the desire coursing through my veins.
That was before I realized said photoshoot would vastly consist of him being shirtless and posing in underwear that hugged his ass and…other things.
It all started out innocent enough. They had him pose in an array of tops and pants, tugging up the hem of a tee up here and there to display the iconic waistband of the brand’s underwear, offering me tantalizing glimpses of his abdomen.
At one point, he’d donned a cowboy hat, jean jacket, and those favored pair of scuffed boots he wore everywhere, and I swore I got pregnant in that moment. It was so easy to imagine him exactly like that on the Lawless Ranch instead of the set, his skin golden brown and glistening with sweat under the sun instead of the bright artificial lighting.
This was yet another place where Owen slipped into a new persona seamlessly, but it didn’t bother me as much as it would have before. After last night, I had a clearer picture of who he was beneath the many hats he wore, and I had to admit—thatman, the one with demons and scars he tried so hard to keep from everyone, was just about the sexiest thing I’d ever laid eyes on.
I was falling harder for him every day.
Especially when he disappeared behind a curtain and emerged moments later clad in nothing but black boxer briefs, exactly like the ones he always wore. I wondered if he received a lifetime supply or if he loved them so much he bought them in bulk.
Either way, the man was a goddamn specimen, with every muscle on his large body perfectly defined, honed from years of hard work and showing no signs of softening. I must’ve made an audible sound at all that skin on display, unable to tear myeyes away from his pecs and the sandy hair that dusted them and the valley between, because one of the assistants standing nearby nudged me with an elbow.
“He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?”
“Easily the hottest man I’ve ever laid eyes on,” I agreed.
“Are you his girlfriend?” she asked, and I didn’t miss the annoyance that tinged her words.
“No,” I said, which wasn’t technically a lie. Although, I wouldn’t mind that label. I wouldn’t mind a lot of things where he was concerned. “His business partner.”
“What kind of business?”
“We’re opening a distillery back in Michigan,” I said. “He invited me out here with him to do some market research and get some inspiration for our design scheme. I’m just tagging along to this,” I added, swinging my arms around at the space, which was actually a mostly empty apartment on the third floor of an industrial building.
“That’s cool,” she said, though her tone implied she felt the opposite.
