by Lacey Black
That’s why I have to tell her about the bid.
I have to tell her I’m the guy bidding against her for the vacant building between us. It’s the one thing hanging there, like an anvil swinging, ready to slice and dice. She may not understand, but I’ll tell her why I did it. I’ll explain my family’s business is quite possibly going under, and this is our one shot at expanding Douglas Hardware and bringing it back to life. I’ve seen the numbers. I know small businesses like ours are a dying breed, eaten up by the big box chains, but I refuse to let it go out like that.
I’ll explain, and she’ll understand.
I know it because my girl has the biggest heart of anyone I know.
Even if she hides it behind her sass and gruff.
Her eyes are wide and her breathing has evened out, but the anticipation is still very much there. “Hang on to the headboard,” I instruct as I take my position between her legs. She does as she’s told without so much as the slightest hesitation. The movement presses her tits up even higher. “Don’t let go, Sweetheart,” I tell her as I take my cock in my hand and slide it against her pussy. Her gasp sends shockwaves through my bloodstream, landing heavy in my balls.
“Ready?” I ask, even though I can see the conviction in her eyes. She doesn’t answer in words, but nods her head in anticipation and excitement. “Watch,” I instruct as I slowly start to push inside. I go slow, ignoring the craving to slam into her warm, tight body. I pull back out until just the head is buried and then painstakingly slowly, push back forward again. Watching my cock slide inside her makes this moment – this feeling – that much greater.
Pulling out one last time, I grip her hips and glance up to her face. Her cheeks are flush and her mouth agape, and I swear I’ll never forget this moment as long as I live. A thousand emotions seem to play on her face as I still one last time. Unable to fight the desire to kiss her, I bend down and take her lips with my own. The kiss is slow and tender, full of passion and, yes, love.
I sit back up on my haunches and tell her one last time. “Watch us.” She glances down to where we’re joined, but I keep my eyes on hers. Her hands tighten on the wood slats and I thrust my hips, filling her completely. Harper’s mouth falls open as she moans with pleasure, but she never closes or averts her eyes. She watches as I fill her over and over again.
My pace quickens, my body’s desire for release starting to take over. Sliding my hand down her thigh, I hoist her leg up on my hip, opening her up even more. My mouth finds hers, our tongues dancing as I pound into her pussy. I slide my hands up the insides of her arms, loving the way her soft skin peppers with goose bumps. When my hands finally meet hers, I move her hands, linking our fingers together.
This is heaven.
Home.
Her legs tighten around my hips and I can feel her pussy start to squeeze me. It won’t be long now, which I’m grateful for, since I’m not sure how long I can hold off my release.
“Latham,” she whispers against my lips, her body arching up into me.
I almost say it.
I almost tell her I’m falling head over heels in love with her.
Instead, I squeeze her hands tight and hold on for dear life as my hips begin to thrust. I’m chasing my release, knowing there’s no stopping this freight train now. She clamps down on me as her orgasm sweeps in, wild and reckless. My lips claim hers, hard and bruising, and I never let go of her hands. The base of my spine starts to tingle as she clamps down hard on my cock. Bright lights burst behind my eyelids as I come so hard I can’t seem to breathe.
When exhaustion sets in and I can no longer hold myself up, I roll to the side, pulling her with me. I bring our joined hands to my chest, not really ready to break that connection yet. She doesn’t complain though, just rests her head against my bare chest, right over my heart. I can’t help but wonder if she feels how hard it’s beating – and not just because of the exertion a few minutes ago.
Because of her.
Just being in my arms.
I also can’t help but wonder if all guys turn into wimps when they fall in love…
Needing to clear my head, I lean into her and place a kiss on her forehead. “I need to clean up.”
Harper releases my hands, but threads them around my back and wiggles in close. “Just a few more minutes,” she says, her voice tinged with sleep and satisfaction.
Who am I to deny her anything?
After a few more minutes, I gently move her body to slide out. I’m quick in the bathroom, anxious to get back to her bed, to wrap my arms around her pliant body. Snatching a clean washcloth out of the cabinet, I wet it with warm water and return to the bedroom. Harper tries to take the cloth from me, but I shake my head. “I got you.”
She doesn’t speak as I clean her up, running the warm material over her lower body, but I can feel her eyes on me. I toss the cloth into the hamper and slide back into bed. She immediately throws her arm over my waist and snuggles into my chest.
“Are you hungry?” I ask after a few minutes of silence.
“Not quite yet. I kinda like this,” she answers, sliding one leg between mine.
I pull her into me and kiss her forehead. “Me too.”
Comfortable silence wraps around us as I listen to the sound of her even breathing, though I don’t think she’s sleeping. So many questions filter through my mind. So many things I want to know about her. I’ve missed fourteen years of her life, while I was away in the military and she spent part of her time in New York.
Speaking of New York, I’ve heard a few stories, a few insinuations (mostly on Felicity’s part), but Harper seems to be pretty tightlipped about her time there. Did she meet someone, fall in love, and it ended badly? Was she not cut out for the competitive modeling world in New York? Was she safe and taken care of while she was there?
“Can I ask you something?” I finally ask when the scenarios running through my mind start to turn dark.
“Sure.”
“Tell me about New York.”
I feel her stiffen in my arms and hear her breathing catch. I know something happened; I’m just not sure I really want to know what.
“I went to New York to model. Didn’t like it. Came home. End of story,” she says, her heart pounding a hard beat against my chest.
Needing to see her eyes, I move until we’re facing each other, lifting her chin until we’re eye to eye. I can see it there, her panic and fear written all over her beautiful face. “I don’t want to push you, Sweetheart. I know something happened. I can see it in your eyes and feel it anytime the topic is brought up. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay, but I want you to know you can trust me with anything. I’d never do anything to hurt you.”
She seems hesitant at first, like trusting me isn’t something she’s ready for. I get it. She’s had a horrible past with a few douches who treated her like shit. I hate that, but I need her to know I’m not them.
Just when I open my mouth to tell her that much, she surprises me and starts talking. “I was eighteen when I first went to New York. I won a modeling gig from a local talent search at the mall right after graduation. It was a weekend gig for a toothpaste company, a large advertising campaign that included billboards, posters, internet PR, and television commercials. I was ecstatic, to say the least. I thought this was my big shot at getting out of Rockland Falls.”
She takes a deep breath. I pull her tighter into my embrace, needing to feel her skin against mine and let her know I’m there for her. “Anyway, after the job, a talent scout approached me. She had a few more jobs she thought I’d be perfect for. She talked about lights, cameras, and fame, and promised I’d be on a runway by the end of the year. I ended up signing with her right then and there, came back home and grabbed my stuff, and moved to a tiny little dump of a studio apartment with another girl trying to make it on Broadway.
“It was weird sharing a tiny four-hundred square foot space with a total stranger, but we managed. In fact, Mia and I b
ecame good friends. She helped me get a job at a local Starbucks, which is what actually paid the bills, though not very well. I ended up getting a second job as a hostess in a fancy steakhouse restaurant on weekends to offset the cost of living in New York City. Everything was going well, I was able to pay rent and utilities, and do a few small modeling jobs on the side. That money I was able to put back into a savings account, so I had money for any emergencies. It wasn’t a lot, but it was something.”
Harper averts her eyes, glancing down at my chin. She runs her hand along my jaw, letting my stubble tickle her fingertips. It seems to soothe her, and since I’m a huge fan of her hands anywhere on my body, I let her have the time to explore and touch without saying a word. When she’s finally ready, she goes on.
“I was working one Saturday night at the restaurant when he walked in. Keith Glow.” She looks at me expectantly, like the name alone is supposed mean something, and yes, I do admit the name is vaguely familiar, I just can’t seem to place why.
“I’m sorry, but I haven’t exactly kept up with what happens in that circle. How do I know that name?” I ask her, lightly stroking her arm with my thumb.
“Keith Glow. He was the former producer ousted for drugging women.” Her words are a whisper, barely audible.
Ahhh, yes, I do remember that story. It was all over the news. Just as I get ready to open my mouth, the puzzle pieces start to click into place and my blood runs cold.
“I was twenty when he introduced himself. He was charming, charismatic, and seemed to really want to help advance my career. Not that I had much of one, at that point, but he seemed so devoted to helping me become a big star.”
The tears welling in her eyes do me in. I tighten my hold on her, not just for her, but for me. We both need to feel grounded, the comfort of the other’s touch, to know we’re both there for each other, despite what bomb she’s about to drop on me.
“For the next year, he was able to secure me larger jobs than what my agent was finding. I was attending parties I had dreamed about, meeting people I only knew from the cover of magazines. I was well on my way to making a name for myself, and I had Keith to thank for it.”
“No way. I don’t buy that for a second. Keith might have opened a few doors, but it was you who landed those jobs. It was you they fell in love with behind the camera. It was you they were signing.”
She gives me a wobbly, tearful smile. “I know, but the problem with that industry is it’s extremely small. Everyone talks, everyone knows everyone. If someone wants to tank your career, all it would take is just a phone call or two, maybe a couple of photos, and it would be done. You wouldn’t even see it coming until it was too late. Until you were the next tabloid cover story and your phones stopped ringing.”
Again, she takes a deep breath and reaches for my hand. She holds on for dear life. “I was at a premiere party at some fancy hotel in Paris. I had just finished shooting a clothing spread for a magazine. We had the entire penthouse floor, which included two levels of open space. Keith’s wife was there; I had met her several times. She often accompanied him to big parties and such. He brought me a glass of champagne. I didn’t think anything about it because he was always doing little things like that. My head started to feel a little fuzzy, and even though I had only had one glass prior, I excused myself to use the restroom. There was a line at the downstairs restroom, so I decided to try to find one upstairs. I knew there were four spread out throughout the penthouse, so I had a good chance of finding one or two upstairs.
“I was having a hard time focusing on the steps. I couldn’t seem to make my feet work, but I managed to get upstairs. There were a few people milling around, and a line in the hallway. Suddenly, Keith was there. He told me I wasn’t looking so well and asked if I needed to lie down. I don’t remember anything after that. Not until I woke up in the master suite.”
My jaw hurts from tension, but I don’t say a word. So many questions filter through my mind, but I don’t ask a single one. I remain quiet and listen. The pain and uncertainty is so evident as she retells a story I’m sure she’s never spoken of since it happened.
“He was there, taking pictures of me. My dress was skewed and my breasts hanging out. When I asked him what happened, he said nothing. He was still dressed, and for the most part, so was I, but I knew I had been violated. Maybe not my body, but my personal space, my sense of security, my dignity.
“He dropped the camera back into his pocket and handed me a glass of water. I refused to drink it because something told me he was the reason I was in a haze. He just laughed, straightened his tie, and turned toward the doorway. He politely informed me nothing happened and that if I told a soul about this, he would make my life hell. He would sink my career, my reputation, and everything I valued most. He told me no one would believe me, and I would never work in this industry again. But then he went for the final blow. He told me he’d sink my mother’s business and make sure the scandal would never die down.”
Air seems to thicken as I try to breathe and remain calm. It’s hard as fuck to suck oxygen into my lungs at this point, but I don’t panic. I don’t want to scare her any further than she’s already been.
“That’s when I left. As soon as I could fly home from Paris, I packed up my car and drove back to Rockland Falls, leaving New York City completely behind. I’ve never told anyone about what happened.” Her words are small, but the meaning is huge. She trusts me enough to share her biggest secret. I want to cry for everything she’s been through, everything she’s endured.
“You are the bravest woman I’ve ever met,” I tell her, kissing her on the forehead.
“But I’m not. I should have gone to the authorities. I should have fought, but I didn’t. I ran.”
“You were twenty years old, Sweetheart. No one can fault you for being scared and running away, especially when he threatened your family.”
Tears start to fall now. “I didn’t care about my career, about modeling anymore. I cared about my mom, my sister. I cared about what this scandal would do to their business. Mom had been through enough when my dad cheated and left. I just couldn’t do it to her again.”
“Your mom and family are tougher than you think. So are you.”
She takes a deep breath. “I know.” She remains quiet for a few long seconds, as if gathering her thoughts. “I called them.”
“Who?”
“The police department. After the story broke last summer, I called them and told them what had happened to me.”
My heart pounds in my chest, tight and hard. “What happened when you called?”
“I wasn’t the only one. There were fourteen other women who called, all with similar stories about Keith. They took all of my information and asked me to come to New York City for a formal meeting. I went last fall and gave a complete recount of what happened.” She locks eyes on me. “He took a plea deal, in exchange for pleading guilty to invasion of privacy and drugging the women. He’ll spend sixteen years behind bars, a year for each woman he violated. There were more, according to the photos he kept, but they never came forward. Without their testimony, they couldn’t do anything more.”
“You didn’t have to testify?”
“Not in court. I was prepared to, but with the plea deal, I think he knew it would be much worse if the jury heard all of our testimonies. And we were all prepared to give them,” she assures me.
“I’m proud of you,” I reiterate.
“I was a coward.”
“No, you weren’t. As I mentioned, you were young and scared, and the important part is he can no longer violate anyone else because he’s behind bars. And you helped do that.”
“I should have done it sooner,” she whispers.
Shrugging my shoulders, I reply, “Maybe yes, maybe no. The important thing is you did it.” I pull her tightly against me and kiss her forehead. “I’m fucking proud of you.”
She releases a shuddered breath. “I’ve never told a single soul until tha
t phone call and trip back to New York.”
I close my eyes, and revel in the feel of her warmth, her skin, her touch. I know it’s past time to come clean about the building, which is why I’m going to tell her tomorrow. Maybe after her family cookout, we can come back here – with Snuggles as a buffer – and I can let her know about the bidding war.
And about my feelings.
It’s time to tell her.
It’s been nearly a decade and a half.
It’s time to officially make her mine.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Harper
I’m pulling into the drive for my family’s bed and breakfast, the sun shining high in the late morning sky. Latham had to run home and change, since he didn’t bring fresh clothes with him to my place last night. Not that he wore those clothes for long, mind you, but he also had to stop by his sister’s house and set up a dollhouse for his niece. If I didn’t already promise Mom I’d come help her get ready for the family gathering today, I would have gone with him.
But our early Sunday schedules weren’t on our side.
No worries, though. Latham should be arriving at the B&B by eleven thirty.
Am I worried he’s meeting my entire family? Maybe just a little. I mean, he’s already met and hung out with my brothers and sister, but it’s the first time he’s meeting the extended family – and we all know how crazy they can be.
Plus, this makes us a little more official, and considering I don’t really know the title, I don’t know how to react to that. I mean, I guess we’re dating, though we’ve never actual used the term or set any parameters. I guess I’m going to have to just ask him outright. Maybe later today, after the cookout.
I park my car next to my sister’s and head inside. I swear I can still smell the fresh paint as I step through the open doorway. The screen door shuts easily and I’m instantly wrapped in familiarity and warmth. I spent a big chunk of my childhood here, right up until I left for New York City. When I moved home, I had felt so…dirty. I needed my own space to lick my wounds and deal with the anger. I went from a small apartment to renting my house for a few years, and worked odd jobs, saving up as much money as I could to be able to afford something better – something for me.
