Crazy in Love

by S. L. Scott

  I’m not above begging if that’s what it takes. We’ve now climbed over that wall.

  For me, there’s no going back with him.

  He sweeps me into his arms and walks into the bedroom. I can tell he’s going to drag this out, probably to be romantic and stuff, which is sweet but not necessary for me.

  Setting me on the bed with so much care that I’m afraid he thinks I’ll break, he stands beside me and starts to undress. “You sure you’re up for more?”

  “I’m up for so much more,” I say, running my hands over my chest.

  I sit up and pull the ribbon holding the straps together on one shoulder, watching his reaction. His body gives him away, his erection growing in his pants.

  He cups my face. Damnit. I don’t want sweet.

  I know how to spur him on because one thing I’ve learned is that Harrison Decker loves dirty talk. “Do you remember when you bent me over that counter in Catalina?”

  “There’s not one thing I don’t remember about that night.”

  “I want you to do that to me again.”

  “With the mirror?”

  “Yes.” A wry grin appears on his face, so I add, “Yes, there’s my bad, bad boy.”

  “Not a boy, babe.”

  Rubbing my hand over his cock, I reply, “Feels like all man to me.” I pop the snap of his jeans and slide the zipper down. Peering up at him, I lick my lips and then ask, “May I? Just one taste?”

  His shoulders straighten, so commanding, so sexy, and he replies, “No sampling the goods. You take it all, or you don’t get any.” He has a naughty mind to match mine. “What do you say?”

  “Yes, and please.”

  “Fuck me,” he growls, tugging his jeans down.

  Why is it such a turn-on to role play with him?

  I lie across the bed on my stomach and settle in just as he frees his dick. Bobbing in front of me, I take hold with one hand and then wrap my lips around the tip.

  The feel of his fingers dig into the hair at the back of my head, encouraging me, but now that I’m in control, I intend to have some fun. I swirl my tongue around several times before allowing him to push past my lips. He’s slow, calculated, letting me lead and cover the distance with my hand.

  The sound of his moans mixed with mine, the struggle he has not to take control of my head, light touches accidentally push, causing me to gag, but only one time. He’s a quick learner, too. I go deep and then tease back again until I find a rhythm that I can get lost in.

  His body moves against my mouth, and his breathing becomes labored. It’s not but a few minutes before steady turns erratic, and etiquette goes out the window. He’s guiding me like a missile on a mission, and I take it, every bold inch of him like a hometown hero.

  He pulls back suddenly and grabs me under the arms to pull me off the bed. As soon as I land on my feet, he says, “Get the fuck in there and be in position. You have until the count of ten.”

  A smack to my ass sends me in the right direction. I don’t need to be told twice. I rush into the bathroom, my ass still tingling, and shove my crap to the far side of the counter. Bending over, I pull my skirt up and then brace myself on the cold marble.

  I know for a fact that wasn’t a solid ten seconds, but seeing Harrison enter the bathroom in the reflection of the mirror, his eyes locked on my backside, and smirking . . . my thighs rub together in anticipation.

  He takes his time, hands on my upper ass and then sliding lower, two fingers running through my wetness and then rubbing it on his dick. Leaning over me, he kisses my back as he positions himself. “Did you think I’d come in your mouth when I could come in that sweet pussy of yours?”

  Dear Lord, thank you for Harrison Decker.

  He takes a hand full of my hair and pulls back until my chin is raised. Our eyes are locked in the mirror when he says, “Brace yourself.”

  I claw my fingers just as he takes me by the hips and slams into me. I hold my chin high, watching him as his face contorts. Lust. Greed. Gluttony. Pride. Most of the seven deadly sins are hammered into me. But if I search his blue irises, a hint of something softer appears when he looks at me. Like a rose, that same feeling continues to bloom inside me.

  Closing my eyes, I try to block out the tenderness and focus on the other sensations I’m feeling. A quiver is felt and begins to spread outward. When I open my eyes, a fogged mirror hides part of him away from me. I reach forward and wipe it away, wanting to see every part of him claiming me.

  “I’m so close, baby.”

  Baby. My heart flutters when I hear it.

  I push up because I’m about to have another orgasm. Our stars collide, sending us both barreling over the edge from light to dark and sinking into the abyss of the beautiful aftermath.

  My cheek rests on the stone, the cold feeling good against my heated cheek. I’m finally dragged back into reality when he says, “Was it as good as you remember?”

  His hands rub over my shoulder, the sweetest Harrison returned after a quick trip to the dark side. He helps me up, holding me upright until my balance returns.

  Wrapping my arms around him, I rest against him, and say, “Better.”

  And that’s why I made a pact with this man.

  Because every time is better. And every time, I feel the utter joy and danger in being with a man who is such a selfless lover. Because how do you pick yourself up from that once he leaves?

  16

  Harrison

  Catalina - Four and a half years ago . . .

  I’m a bag of bones craving another hit—of her.

  It’s more than attraction. Tatum’s quickly becoming an addiction. She wanted to shower, but I asked her to stay. There’s something earthy and sensual about giving our bodies to each other, losing control, and then lying in the aftermath of what we experienced together.

  Leaning over, I kiss her back, both of her shoulder blades, and lick the space between and higher on her spine, leaving one last kiss on the back of her neck. Sweat and the salty air mixes, the taste an aphrodisiac. Our night has been more than I’ve ever had with anyone. I’m not even sure how we fit so much life into the last eight hours, but they’re the hours I’ll still be reminiscing about on my deathbed.

  I drag my finger lightly over her skin, glistening in the moonlight, and then leave one more kiss because I’m not sure if I’ve kissed that spot already. “What if I want to call you?”

  Tatum opens her eyes, a smile appearing. “Why would you want to do that?”

  I can’t figure her out. The women I’ve had sex with always want more of my time, not less. Do I suck in bed?

  Nah. That can’t be it.

  The curtains billow in the breeze coming off the ocean, the sound of the waves heard through the open door to the balcony. Somewhere far off, music drifts through the air, though it barely reaches our ears. It’s another layer to set the scene, making memories that will stick with me.

  It was funny—maybe quirky is a better word—when she had me agreeing to a pact. Now, there’s an unsettling in my gut that I’m not sure how to deal with. I slide down next to her, lying on my back, and turn to face her. “You might be the strangest girl I’ve ever met. You don’t want me to call or text. We skipped the foreplay and got right to the sex.”

  “That’s a rhyme.”

  “Oh no, you don’t. That’s cute, but I’m not letting you dodge this.”

  “You’re cute,” she says, tapping my nose, trying to detour this conversation. I’ve noticed she has a knack for avoiding things she doesn’t want to talk about.

  I tuck hair behind her ear. “I want to get to know you, Tate, but you make it hard.” I shouldn’t have phrased it that way—a perfect setup for jokes—but I try to keep us on topic. “Did I do something to upset you or—?”

  “No.” The answer is unhurried but to the point. “I’ve never had anyone question sex without strings.”

  “Maybe they didn’t want more than that.”

  Her grin slips awa
y as a strong breeze blows over us. “What do you want me to say, Harrison, tell me and I’ll say it,” she says, her voice losing strength.

  What is going on inside her head? What’s happened that I’m reaping the repercussions?

  “I don’t want you to speak for me, to make me feel better. I want to hear what you want, what you need.”

  She wiggles, her hand sliding down my bicep. “Is this a roundabout way to tell me that you want to have sex again?” That’s what it is with her—only physical.

  Catching her hand just before it disappears under the sheet, I bring it between us and then kiss each fingertip and then her palm. “You have me right here wanting to learn everything about you, and you’re still not going to let me in, are you?”

  “You’re not tired?” she asks. Closing her eyes, she blocks me out of delving deeper. I guess I got my answer. It doesn’t take long for her breathing to steady and sleep to take her from me.

  I stay up, hoping the sunrise comes before our goodbyes. Maybe the new day can shed some light on what I can’t see lying here. We don’t have that kind of time.

  My dad was right. Nothing worth my time was built on hopes and dreams. It takes action to make things happen. I don’t have a minute to spare to get the answers I need from her. With less than an hour before she needs to leave, I wake her up with kisses along her cheekbone and running my fingers through her long hair. “Tatum?” I whisper.

  Her eyes slowly open and then close, her breath uneven as she tries again, stirring awake. “What time is it?”

  “Four thirty.”

  She groans, her eyes still closed. “I have to get up, but I don’t want to. I like it here much better.”

  “I like you here much better too. What about a later flight?”

  She gasps as she bolts up. “Natalie.” Jumping out of bed, she grabs a shirt, mine to be exact, and slips it on before rushing into the main part of the two-bedroom suite.

  “What are you doing?” I call from bed.

  I hear what sounds like her and Natalie talking in hushed voices and the door closing. “I’m sorry,” Tatum says.

  Indiscernible whispering follows, and then her friend asks, “He’s still here?”

  “Shh,” Tatum says. “Yes.”

  After more whispering, I hear her friend say, “Don’t be late.”

  “I won’t.”

  Tatum returns to the room, closing the door quietly behind her. “I just remembered that I had the hotel keys. She’s been locked out all night.”

  “Shit. She couldn’t get one from the front desk?”

  Moving into the bathroom, she flips the light switch on. Peeking back out, she says, “She said she tried, but I was carrying her wallet yesterday, so she didn’t have ID.” A mischievous grin sneaks onto her face. “Guess where she’s been all night?”

  “Where?” I hold the covers open for her, and she slips right in next to me as if she doesn’t have a flight to catch. We lie next to each other with her tucked against my side.

  “In your room with Nick.”

  Score one for my best friend. If anyone needed to get laid, it was him. Maybe he can learn to relax again. “That’s interesting,” I reply, trying not to sound like an asshole full of pride for my friend.

  “I hope Natalie got laid.”

  “Really?”

  She nods. “She’s been on what she calls a love embargo for quite a while. This trip has been good for her to break back out of her shell. And Nick seemed like just the guy to help her.”

  “Not to brag, but he’s a good guy, too. Stressed, but who isn’t these days?”

  “I’m not.”

  The response throws me a second. It’s too late to get into how she’s living a life so carefree when I have other motives in mind to get more time with her. “Nick is gold. She’s lucky if—”

  “I don’t want to talk about them. We have so little time left. Do you mind?”

  Holding her closer, I ask, “Why would I mind?”

  The tips of her fingers graze over the skin on the outside of my eyes before her hand lowers to my chest. “One day, you’re going to have smile lines. It’s not fair.”

  “It’s not fair that I’ll have wrinkles? I’m pretty sure all of us will if we age naturally.”

  “No, I mean, you’ll be even more devastatingly handsome than you are right now.”

  I kiss her forehead and then fall back to my pillow again. “You know, the pact isn’t legally binding. It’s just us, two parties, who can make or break it.”

  She pecks my lips, but there’s not enough time to deepen it before she’s getting out of bed. “Let’s not mess this up by trying to make it something it’s not. We’ll just cause each other a lot of heartache, so why go through the trouble?”

  “But what if—”

  “I need to get ready. Will you stay until I need to leave?”

  And just like that, she shut down all options but the one I’ve been trying to get around this whole time—a goodbye. “I’ll stay,” I reply, swallowing down the scraps she’s leaving me along with my pride. My heart lodges in my throat, and when the door closes, I close my eyes, hoping to wake up in a different state of mind.

  A kiss wakes me up, and then another. “I’m leaving,” she whispers.

  When I open my eyes, the lamp on the dresser is on. It’s not bright, but there’s enough light to see she’s fully dressed. She’s stunning—the image of her before me will compete with remembering her at the peak of orgasm, sharing a laugh on the yacht as the sun sets, and feeding me grapes and then savoring it on my lips. Who am I kidding? I’ll remember everything about her, even this goodbye.

  She walks to the door in silence.

  I pull the covers off, not caring that I’m naked, and get up to help her with the luggage. It’s a good guise to actually be near her again.

  Just as she yanks the handle from the top of the case, she kicks the bottom to get it angled. “Don’t get up. You can stay and sleep.”

  “I want to.” I go to her and hold her head to look at her as if I’ll never see something of this magnitude again. It’s not just her beauty, though. The soul that she carries in the amber of her brown eyes is magnificent like buried gold “I need to say something—”

  “Please don’t.” The pain heard in her voice causes an ache in my heart. Her gaze falls from mine as her hands take hold of my arms.

  I hate that my heart beats loud in my ears, and panic fills my chest. I’m losing her, and I’m just not ready yet. “What if I don’t agree?”

  “You already did.” Her eyes finally return to mine. She throws her arms around me, holding me so tight that I think she might be panicking over this goodbye as well. She rests her head on my chest, her heart also beating just as fast.

  I hold her, dipping my head against the top of hers and closing my eyes, savoring and memorizing everything I can.

  She slips away too soon. I catch the subtle swipe from the side of her eyes, the jagged breath she takes, and how she forces that chin in the air, collecting herself back together again. “Go to bed. Get some sleep. That’s what I’d be doing if I could stay.” Playfully shoving me away, she says, “Go. You have hours until it’s time to check out. Enjoy the bed.”

  “I’d enjoy the bed a lot more with you in it.”

  “Me too, but I need to go.”

  The space between us grows as I give her what she wants again. Climbing back into bed, I’m tired, but if this is the only way to end us on a good note, I’ll do it. With the door pushing against her back and her suitcase handle poised in her hand, she looks into the living room of the hotel suite. I hear her friend ask, “Ready?”

  “One minute.”

  She runs over and kisses me once more—lips pressed to mine like it’s the last she’ll ever get. I cup her face and hold her there, giving her one that will make her regret ever leaving.

  Pulling back, she dips her forehead to mine and takes a breath as though it pains her. Then she returns to the do
or.

  When she looks back at me, I ask, “Has anyone ever broken through that fortress?”

  The slightest shake of her head follows, and then she says, “No one’s ever made the effort.”

  I tuck my hands behind my head, sure as the day is new that I would be that man. “I always did love a good challenge.”

  Her head tilts as a smile graces her face, reaching all the way to her eyes and shining happiness right into the irises. “I give you all the outs in the world, and you’re making it your life’s mission?”

  “No, I’m making you my mission.” I wink at her.

  She laughs, but I can see the color in her cheeks deepening. “There’s nothing wrong with a good ending, Harrison, and we got one of the best.”

  “You wait and see, Tatum. This isn’t over. This is just our beginning.”

  17

  Tatum

  New York - Four and a half years later . . .

  I return to the scene of the first passion-filled crime to get my panties off the floor, but they’re not there. I look further into the living room and behind me toward my bedroom just in case they got kicked somewhere. There’s no sign of them anywhere. I even check the spare room I currently use as my purse and shoe closet.

  Not in there either. “Have you seen my underwear, Harrison? I can’t find them anywhere.”

  “Check my jeans,” he calls from the bedroom.

  Walking into the bedroom, I ask, “Why would they be in your jeans?”

  “I was going to keep them.”

  “Why?” I stop at the end of the bed. “As a souvenir? To add to your sordid panty collection you have back in California?”

  Looking the way he does, I’d be easily lured if he offered me candy or anything for that matter. Hell, he doesn’t even have to entice me. I’m a willing volunteer. He grumbles, “Why do I feel like this is leading me back to the candy murderer accusation?”

  “I didn’t accuse you of using candy to lure innocent victims into your murdering lair. Nor am I accusing you of sewing panties together to make a girlfriend.”