Jeremy ran a hand over his face, still startled to feel a smooth jaw line instead of facial hair. He had to ask, “How much more? Because I’ve got to tell you, Owen, I’m not sure I’m willing to put our friendship on the line for sex, no matter how great it is. And I can’t get my head around why you seem to be willing to risk it.”
“How long have you been having sex with Natasha, Jeremy?”
Jeremy’s eyes narrowed. “A while.”
“Please,” Owen laughed, his smile tight. “The first time you two fooled around we were juniors in high school. And you’ve been on her fuck buddy speed dial for years now. She comes and goes and it hasn’t hurt your friendship at all. In a way, I think it’s made you closer. What’s so different about this?”
Everything, and they both knew it. This wasn’t the same. This was insanity. Lust on a scale he’d rarely experienced, if ever. And of all the men his body could have decided to go crazy over, it had to be Owen Finn. “Where should I begin? How about with the whole you’re-not-gay issue?”
Owen dropped the bag at his feet and moved closer. “I know where you want to begin, but I’m not willing to let you label this. I know who and what I am, and I’m here because I want to be. Period. Are you going to look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want this as badly as I do? That you’d really be okay if I told you to forget it before we got it out of our systems? Would you really be satisfied with that?”
He reached for Jeremy’s shirt and started undoing the buttons. “Just because this is new for me doesn’t mean I can’t tell how intense the chemistry is. It’s not just me. Fifteen minutes ago you were on your knees sucking my cock. Five minutes ago you were jerking off in your truck, knowing I was coming to give you more. Don’t hide behind excuses when we both know you’d do anything to fuck me. Admit it to yourself at least. Admit you want this.”
Knowing he already had, Jeremy sighed in defeat. Jesus, Owen really was one stubborn son of a bitch. But if he was that determined to give Jeremy exactly what he wanted, why would he be stupid enough to resist?
He grabbed the collar of Owen’s flannel and yanked, the snaps wrenching open easily beneath his hands.
“You win.” Dragging Owen’s shirt off, he tossed it on the floor. “I admit it. I want you. More now than I ever have, and I’ve wanted you for longer than you’d be comfortable knowing.”
Blue eyes lit with interest. “Screw comfortable and tell me. How long?”
“Let me put it this way—I had half your team in college trying to work this ache out of my system.”
Owen paused in the act of stripping off Jeremy’s shirt. “Bullshit.”
“Tasha helped.” Jeremy smiled wickedly, enjoying the surprise and arousal in Owen’s expression. “And it was only a few defensive linemen. But you’d be surprised how willing they were to risk exposure so I could live out my fantasy of sharing the team shower with you after a game.”
“Which ones?”
He shook his head. “You’ll die wondering. I don’t kiss and tell.”
Owen licked his lips. “You never said anything.”
“And you never woke up without a girl in your bed.”
Owen unzipped his pants and stepped out of them thoughtfully. “I have this sudden desire to visit our old alma mater and chain you to that shower for a week. I’m thinking of a million ways I could torture you for telling me that story.”
Jeremy chuckled. “You wanted an admission.”
“That wasn’t what I had in mind. You might not know this, but I can be a possessive man.”
“Of your things,” Jeremy acknowledged. “Not people.” Owen was protective of family and friends, but never possessive.
“You’d be surprised. I am. I won’t tell you what I wanted to do with that jerk at the bar who was sizing you up for a ride, or what I thought about last night while I was sitting in your driveway.”
“I told you I went out for dinner.”
He shrugged, his muscled body tense. “And I told you I knew you were lying. I was wondering if you were with that screamer Tasha introduced you to at the party. If you were giving him more of what I wanted. It took all of my willpower not to call her and get his name and address.”
Jeremy was removing his boots but he looked up at that. “I don’t even remember his name. It was just a one-time thing.”
“With all those notches on your bedpost, I’m not surprised you can’t keep track.”
“I’m not that bad. I hear you’ve got me beat, Master Finn.”