Saylor

Owen leans closer until his breath tickles the shell of my ear. “Keep lying, and I’ll just keep calling you out for it.”

“Self-preservation, Owen,” I whisper. “I keep forgetting to use it.”

His jaw tightens. “Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if we met later in life? If the only reason we got together in the first place was because we didn’t know what that shit was? Self-preservation.” He scoffs quietly. “Sounds like fear of the unknown to me.”

“But you’re not unknown to me,” I return.

He ignores my argument and continues, making sure to keep his voice quiet and raspy so that we don’t bother anyone else. Besides, this conversation isn’t exactly meant to be public in the first place. Then again, it should’ve been said a long time ago. Might as well rip it off right now, just like a Band-Aid.

“We dove in head first because that’s what felt right. The jock and the sexy nerd no one saw. People said it would never work. But it did. It worked well, didn’t it?”

The light stubble along his jaw tickles my cheek as I turn my head to look at him. He’s so freaking close I could kiss him right now.

“Answer the question,” he rasps.

“Yeah. We worked well,” I admit, the memories threatening to choke me before I shove them aside. “But we were young and stupid.”

“Maybe we should try being young and stupid again, Say. Because that was the happiest I’d ever been, except the day Grady was born. That includes talking to the NFL recruiters. That includes the NCAA championship. And yeah, I screwed it all up because I was young and stupid, but I’m not young and stupid anymore.”

“Debatable,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

His mouth curves toward the ceiling, only a breath away from mine. “Careful with that sass, Say. We both know how I used to reciprocate.”

I bite my lip, my breathing shallow.

Yes. I remember that well. Too well, in all honesty. And it was my favorite game. Piss him off. Egg him on. Fan the flames until we were both consumed by them. If I close my eyes, I can still feel his punishing grip along my thighs as he’d push me against the wall with my legs wrapped around his waist. His hungry mouth would leave bruises along my throat as he’d suck my skin until I was begging him to put me out of my misery. To put us both out of our misery.

“You’re dangerous for me, Owen,” I choke out.

“Says the girl who’s owned me since the moment we met.”

I scoff. “That’s debatable.”

“It really isn’t. But like I said, I can be patient.”

“Patience has never been your strong suit,” I counter.

“Yeah. Well, I guess I’m not young and stupid anymore.”

“Then, what are you?”

“Determined and patient. And I’m going to prove it to you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. But first, I’m going to do one more stupid thing.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

“Obviously not.” He smirks. “If I thought it was, I wouldn’t classify it as stupid.”

A breath of laughter escapes me before he inches closer, his massive frame blocking anyone from seeing exactly what we’re doing over here. We probably look like we’re discussing Luke’s lightsaber or something, for all they know. But I’m not stupid. I know exactly where this is going. And I was right about my lack of self-preservation. Because I’m ready for it. Hell, I feel like little bees are buzzing beneath my skin, waiting to be put out of their misery.

He leans in to steal a taste. And I let him. Because I need the friction to stop building between us before it’s too much. If

I can dispel the charge, then maybe I can keep my reaction in check. Maybe I can quiet the voices in my head that are begging me to give him another chance. Maybe I can convince myself that our connection was fabricated by a seventeen-year-old’s perspective. That he doesn’t taste as good as I remember. That I was a horny teenager who had no idea––

Shiiit.