by S. L. Scott
Us against the world. It reminds me of what I have with Natalie. And that is strange because I never thought I’d have anyone else in my life like her.
Harrison isn’t a knight riding onto my life’s page to save the day.
No, he has his story to create. Resting his hand heavy on my head, he asks, “You okay?”
I swat him away. “I’ll be fine. By that welt on your head, it looks like you got the worst end of it.” Then I reach up and rub my fingertips so lightly over the bruising skin.
“I never claimed to be a tough guy, but I didn’t expect to be taken out by a five-foot-three Tasmanian devil dressed in pink while in a candy store. You match the store, by the way. Almost like you planned it . . . I’m onto you, Tate.”
“Onto me? I’m innocent.”
“Innocent? You called me a murderer for buying candy.”
Shrugging, I laugh under my breath. “I watch a lot of true crime stories. What can I say?”
He starts collecting the candy into bags again but looks up at me with a grin. “You never cease to surprise me.”
“What do I cease doing?”
“Apparently helping, but I’ll let it slide.”
I finish straightening the skirt of my dress and then bend to help him. He’s already standing back up. “Oops. My bad.”
“It’s okay. That skirt’s too short to be bending over in anyway.”
My gaze darts down to my legs. “What are you talking about? It hits mid-thigh. The one I wore to the concert was shorter.”
“That was too short, too.” He starts for the front of the store like he didn’t just judge me.
Following him, I say, “Good thing you’re not my dad then.”
“I’d be more worried being your boyfriend.”
I stop between the giant lollipop stand and a large display of Necco Wafers. Does anyone even eat Neccos? I grab one package because now I’m curious what the hell they are. Walking up behind him, I tap him on the back with the roll of colorful wafers. “Ah. I see,” I start when he turns around. “Worried because other guys would be looking at me?”
Snatching the Neccos from me, he adds it to the pile he’s buying, and tells the clerk, “Add that to my order.”
I lean my back against the counter, eyeing him. I let my smile carry on. “You know, Decker, you kind of sound like you might be jealous.”
“Pfft. What or whom would I be jealous of?”
“That’s what I can’t figure out, but give me some time and I will.”
He hands over his card to pay for the candy and then angles my way. “Listen, Devreux, I’m not jealous.”
The funny thing is he doesn’t sound mad, not even a little perturbed. Maybe a little defensive, but he’s volleying the banter right back just fine. He takes the bag from the clerk, and we head toward the door, which he holds open for me.
Despite the eight million people in the city, as soon as it closes and we’re alone, it feels private. Out on the sidewalk, he stops in front of the Ring Pop proposal, and as he looks around, he smiles again. “Why do you care if I get jealous?”
“Just wondering why you would. That’s all.”
I turn to lean, but he catches my arm. “You may have forgotten about how good we are together, but I haven’t.”
As we stand in front of the perfection of the confectionary display, our conversation hasn’t taken a turn for the worst but traveled down a much more intriguing path. I hold my purse strap in my hand and shift on my heels. “What made you think of that?”
“I don’t know,” he replies, tapping the window. “Maybe it’s the magic.”
“What magic?”
“The magic you spoke of. You said magic can be found around any corner, but you have to be looking for it. Maybe we didn’t. Maybe it found us.”
Denying my heart beating rapidly in my chest is impossible. By how it feels inside, it’s probably louder than the traffic. I turn to face the street, thinking it’s best before I start letting crazy notions fill my head, like kissing him right here. I look down at my shoes, trying to get lost in the details instead of staring at the man next to me. “Maybe we should go.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
We start walking again, and I think changing the topic is a good idea. “What do you have planned for the rest of the day?”
“Thinking about seeing what you’re up to.”
Grabbing his shirt by the sleeve, I tug him down the street. “Come on. I’ll let you tag along.”
“First stop?”
“The lingerie store.”
“Now you’re talking my language.”
14
Tatum
“The French knicker in white, the black teddy, and the cheekies.” He points at the table and then rubs his thumb over his bottom lip in contemplation. After putting enough thought into it to solve world hunger, he snaps his fingers and turns to me. “I think you need all four colors of the cheekies.”
He actually was talking lingerie language.
Who knew that Harrison Decker was an aficionado when it came to lingerie and undergarments?
From the couch where I’ve been lounging for the last thirty minutes while he worked with the sales associate, I point at my chest. “Me?”
Seemingly confused, he replies, “Yes you. What do you think?”
“Oh, I didn’t know you wanted my opinion on what lingerie I should buy for myself.
“Ha-ha.” There is no chuckle to accompany the words. “I thought I was helping.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. It’s a tic that Harrison has when he’s trying to give room for other opinions. I’m a quick study when it comes to him.
Joining him at the counter, I eye the pieces he narrowed it down to. “Helping? You’re a bull in a china shop.” Picking up the turquoise cheekies, I discard them to the far side of the counter. I bring the silk thong back into the mix and then push the pile forward to be rung up. Leaning against the counter, I ask him, “Why do you have such a vested interest in what I’m wearing under my clothes anyway?”
He clears his throat and glances to the saleswoman. Bleached blond with her hair twisted back into a chignon. Messy modern, but still elegant. Later thirties, if I had to guess. Plunging neckline that reveals a hint of a lace garment underneath. Very slender. I mentally note that she doesn’t have birthing hips, the term my grandmother once used when referring to how mine will come in handy one day.
I balk at that memory. Me and a baby. That’d be crazy.
Rubbing a hand over my rounded hip, I start to wonder if she’s his type, the type of woman he dates in California?
Her eyes don’t meet mine but go to him when the total is announced. “That will be eight hundred and thirty-seven dollars and twenty-three cents. Will that be cash or charge?”
Whipping my hand through the air, I make a whoosh sound as I hand the card over. I’d failed to notice his was already on the counter. Pulling it back across the slick surface, I inform him, “I’m buying my underwear.”
He pushes the card forward again. “Okay, then I’ll buy the teddy and the knickers.”
“Why would you be buying me anything in this store, Harrison? Or any store for that matter?”
“Wishful thinking?”
“Are you asking if you’re ever going to see these on me?”
“I’m hopeful.” He is—his eyes, that grin that’s tipping into a smirk, and the confidence that’s always there in his body’s frame.
“It’s funny you say that when I didn’t know where we stood after this morning. You got the worst of me.” My gaze travels back to his black credit card just before she snatches it.
“On your card, sir?” she asks.
“I’m here, by the way. Standing right here and able to buy my own freaking overpriced underwear.”
Jerking back as though I insulted her, she says, “I think I’ll let you two work this out.”
As soon as she walks away, I say, “You do realize she’s hitting on you, right?” I sha
ke my head in annoyance. “Like I’m not standing right here.”
“The best revenge,” he offers conspiratorially, “is to let me buy you these things like a good boyfriend. She’ll be none the wiser to our plan.”
“What plan is that? It’s underwear. She’ll probably think you’re bankrolling an affair. And definitely have no respect for me.”
“Why do you need her respect?”
Good question. “I don’t need it,” I lie. “I’m just saying—”
She returns, and I hush instantly like she might know we were talking about her. But then I say, “If you think paying for these things gives you automatic access to seeing them on me, you are—”
“The luckiest guy in Manhattan.” He slips his hands on my waist and around to my lower back, and I let him. I also let him kiss my neck and then my cheek. Because he’s not the only one who’s lucky today . . .
Turning to the saleswoman, I say, “He’s paying.”
My eyes close, and the feel of his lips on my body again has me giddy. Every time he kisses me, I feel sexy. Wanted. Yet not uncomfortable when he invades my space. That’s different from other guys I’ve seen more seriously and casually. Is he?
Now that we’ve staked claim so publicly for her to witness, she’s quick to speed this transaction along. At least she has the courtesy to hand me the bag.
As soon as we’re back on the sidewalk, he takes my hand as we start walking again. “What are you doing?” I ask, pulling away from him. “She can’t see us out here.”
“Is that what you think, Tatum?” So smirky this Sunday. Just goes to show how far good looks and a bankroll will get you in life. He’s confident, not to a fault but in a way that failure hasn’t quite shaped. Even outside, I catch the sun worshipping at his feet. “You think what we did inside and holding hands out here was for her?”
“Well, sure, but . . .” I’m actually not sure what to say, so I look back at the store, wondering if I’ve misread the situation.
“No buts, but let me ask you.”
I stare through the glass, but the saleswoman is nowhere to be found. “Wait a minute. Why do you get a but, but I don’t?”
“You just got one.” As the afternoon’s carried on, Harrison’s become decidedly more relaxed. Maybe champagne is his weakness.
Rolling my eyes, I slide my purse down to my elbow just so I can cross my arms over my chest. I never know how this will go with him, so it’s best to be prepared, and by that, I mean brace myself for anything. “Let’s move this along, shall we? What do you want to ask me?”
“What we did back there . . .” Looking down, he suddenly finds his shoes the most interesting thing around. I should be offended since I wouldn’t mind the honor, but him flipping from confident to coy in the matter of a few short back-and-forths is quite charming. Ugh. Fine, I find him the most fascinating thing around right now.
I can be honest with myself.
Lowering my arms to my sides, I take a step closer, and then another. I can appreciate how handsome he is even when I’m mad at him, but when I’m not so upset, he’s definitely a temptation. “Yeah?”
“How’d that feel for you?” He closes the gap, keeping the question between us despite the other people passing by in a hurry. “My hands on you, my arms around your body, holding you close, and kissing you without a care about who sees us. How’d that feel, Tate?”
Hearing him call me that name hasn’t bothered me since the morning I ran into him at Natalie’s, sort of like the man himself. In fact, both have grown on me tremendously. “I . . .” Now I feel shy. I force my head up just so I can look into his eyes. “I liked it.”
He nods, his smile genuine. “I did, too.” He reaches for my hand again, but I meet him in the middle, and our hands clasp together.
I’m not sure if I like feeling this mushy inside over a guy or if I love it, though I’m leaning toward the latter at the moment. “Do you have plans for the rest of the day?” Please say no.
“Yes.”
Disappointment deflates the hope that had been building in my chest. “Oh . . .”
“With you, Tate, if you don’t mind me tagging along for the rest of your errands.”
And that makes me happy.
My hold on him tightens, and I cling onto the hem of his shirt with my other hand. “What if we skip all that to go back to mine and hang out?”
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Hanging out?”
Laughing, I shake my head. “I have no idea what the kids call it, but let’s just see how the day rolls by.” I really hope that includes rolling around in my bed. I don’t know if I should be mad at myself for wanting him so much or thrilled that I get another chance. Either way, it beats sitting alone in my apartment.
His contentment is reflected in his expression. Not a care in the world lines that great face. “I really don’t mind going with you. Where’s the next stop?”
Eeks. “Wellllll, about that? I kind of don’t have any errands.”
“Just the lingerie shop today?” He tugs me into his big and deliciously strong arms. “I like your priorities.”
Peering up at him, I confess, “My priorities were actually just to taunt you. I didn’t need anything from that store.”
The vibration from his chest is felt as soon as the sound reaches my ears. “Your taunts are actually tempting,” he says, angling down to place a kiss just beneath my ear. The man knows how to tempt himself. “And teasing. Do you know how hard it—”
“No, tell me how hard it was?” I lick my lips and then bite them. I can feel how hard it’s getting, inspiring me to get to this hanging out in a hurry.
Releasing my hand, he moves beside me and throws his arm over my shoulders. We start walking like we’ve walked arm in arm for years. It’s disconcerting. It’s nice. “I can’t say I’m upset we’re going to your place to ‘hang out’ after that comment. But I have to ask, how much farther?”
15
Tatum
Trying to riddle through what my relationship with Harrison Decker is would take a genius. I don’t have the time or interest. I just like the feel of his lips on mine and the way he holds me as if I’ll disappear if he doesn’t.
We didn’t quite make it to the bedroom. Pinned to the hall wall, he forces his lips from mine, and then he drops to his knees, not so upset about me wearing a short skirt when it benefits him.
It flies up, and he ducks under, pressing his nose to the apex of my legs. I still with my palms to the wall behind me. Hot breath engulfs, and then the air is sucked right back in. “Fucking hell,” he moans right before he cups me with his mouth and does it again.
My knees go weak, so I anchor a hand on the top of his head for extra support. His short nails gently scrape down my outer thighs as he takes the cotton thong down to my ankles.
I step out of one side then the other, and then rest back again, closing my eyes and wondering if I’m going to survive his mouth on me. He takes no prisoners, and my vagina is next in line. Lord have mercy, I can’t wait.
Anxious for more, I ask, “How are you doing down there?”
A finger is dragged through the split of my lips, and he leans forward to kiss. “So good.”
The finger is replaced with his tongue, and the mercy I prayed for isn’t granted. He thrusts like he’s rushing against the clock, licking me with the flat of his tongue before returning to finish me. My leg is lifted over his shoulder, and the other is wedged against my other leg. He fucks me with his tongue and fingers, relentless in his pursuit to send over the edge without a chance to take a breath.
Holding on to his head with both hands, I feel the orgasm building, blooming, reaching the far edges of my body until I can’t hold it inside. “Oh my God, Decker.”
My body pulses, the weight on my leg giving way as the back of my head hits the wall behind me. I suck in a harsh breath before letting the sensations take over. Darkness fills the inside of my lids and then sparks of ecstasy light u
p my body like the Fourth of July.
It’s quick, like I was, leaving my breath heavy in my chest but feeling so good. How does he already know my body so well? I pull my skirt off his head to reveal him resting his forehead against my lower belly. His breathing matches mine, his shoulders rising and falling as well. He looks up. “Did you call me Decker when you came?”
Laughter escapes me as he lowers my leg, steadying me. “I did.”
He’s chuckling as he straightens my skirt and holds me by the waist. “That’s a first.”
Fisting the front of his shirt, I pull him closer, kiss his lips, and then whisper against them, “If you’re not careful, I could get used to this hanging out business.”
“As long as you’re only hanging out with me, I’m good with it.”
Veiled jealousy perhaps. At least I know I’m not alone in it.
I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him close. “Want to hang out in the bedroom so I can return the favor?”
“No. I’m good,” he replies casually as though he doesn’t want to be a bother.
News Flash: I’m happy to be hot and bothered if I’m with him.
Staring at him in astonishment and a little horniness I was hoping to satisfy, I ask, “What do you mean you’re good?”
He cups my face and kisses me softly, my scent lightly coating his hands and mouth. “I mean, I’m good, baby. It gets me off to get you off.”
“But—”
“No buts, remember?” Stroking my hair away from my face, he tucks it behind my ears. “Unless you insist. I won’t deny your needs. Not ever.”
I’m touched by his generosity and the sincerity in his tone, but then I say, “Yeah, I insist,” because I need to feel him inside me again like last time. No walls or barriers—physically or emotionally—both of us in the raw, in this together.
He brings out something I never felt with anyone else, a craving to deepen the connection. I’ve never been this way, gone without a condom before, and now I’m hoping he didn’t think to stop at the store.
