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“Hey!”
I ignored him, letting us into the house without a word.
“Hey.” His voice was closer, and slightly softer the second time. He grabbed my shoulder and spun me around, his face making it clear the tone had been a ruse. Fury weaved across his features, strung tight between the sharp press of his lips. He kicked my door closed and shoved me into the house in one swift movement. If I hadn’t expected his anger, I would have stumbled, but Owen had always been the emotional one, acting on impulse and not logic.
“Don’t lay your hands on me,” I warned, jerking my shoulder so my shirt would settle back on my arm.
“But it’s okay for you?”
“I thought we were both clear on who I am and who you are.”
“Yeah, Archer.” He spat my name like it was poison. “I know exactly who you are.”
I surged toward him, collaring his throat with my hand and pushing him against the closed front door. I heard his breath leave him as his back landed against the wood. His nostrils flared, mouth angling up into a scowl as I reached down with my free hand and tore open his belt.
“Who am I?” I asked. I taunted.
Shoving his pants down to his knees, I forced my hand behind the waistband of his boxers and took his cock into my first. He grunted, eyes immediately slamming closed. He’d been hard since the flight because I hadn’t let him come. I’d planned on bringing him home, tying him to the bed, and making him come until he begged me to put him back on the plane and send him home.
“You’re a prick.”
His cock was hot and slick in my hand. It didn’t take much to get him off, and when he came, his knees gave out on him. The only things holding him up were my hands around his dick and his throat, so I tightened them both when I felt him start to slide to the floor.
I leaned into him, nipping his earlobe with my teeth before whispering the correct answer. “I’m the man who makes you come harder than anyone ever has or ever will.”
“Still a prick,” he grunted.
I gave him a shove against the wall, then released his cock first, followed by his throat. I stepped away and watched Owen’s chest inflate with a breath, and I flexed my fist at my side, fingers laced with his sticky and warm release. A flash of shame washed over me, because how ridiculous that I’d just been thinking of Owen as the tempestuous and emotional one when I’d gone and ruined everything I’d planned to do to him because he’d pissed me off with his mouth.
“The guest room’s that way.” I pointed down a long hallway that branched off left of the kitchen. “Last door on the left.”
“No drink, Archer? No wash cloth?” Owen stalked after me, pants undone and cock barely tucked back into his pants. “I bet your guest room has a private bathroom, doesn’t it? I can’t wait to wipe my dick all over everything in there.”
“You can wipe your cock on everything I own, Owen.” I threw a scathing look over my shoulder. “You’d hardly be the first.”
That comment stopped him in his tracks, and he sucked his tongue across the front of his teeth, expression turning dark. I’d gone too far. But I was so out of my depth with him, I didn’t know when to go or where to stop.
“I’m sorry.” I held my hands up in surrender. “That was low.”
He didn’t say a word, just worked his jaw back and forth before giving me a slow nod.
I gestured toward the hallway. “There is an en suite in the guest room. Feel free to shower and use whatever surface pleases you to dry your dick off. Then…if you want, you can join me in here for a drink.”
“What’s your most expensive bottle?” he asked.
I thought about how much I would have given for a sip of Rob’s quiet kitchen whiskey. “I couldn’t tell you.”
“I’m hungry too,” he said.
“You can eat.”
He studied me, like he didn’t trust me not to rub my dick all over a charcuterie board before serving it to him, then his exhaustion or my persistence got the better of him. Owen gave another nod, then turned on his heel and headed down the hallway. I listened for the tell-tale latch of the door, then the rushing in the walls as the water turned on.
Only when I knew he was safe in the shower did I let out my breath, bracing myself on the counter and the open fridge door to stop myself from falling into a puddle on the floor.
“Fuck.”
I pulled the canned spray cheese out of the fridge and shot a healthy serving onto my tongue while finagling my phone out of my pocket and taking it off airplane mode. As expected, my screen filled with notification after notification.
