by Brooks, Abby
They had a standing video chat each night before she went to bed—usually while he ate a late dinner in his office at the restaurant. And while it was good, while she continued to grow her special place in his heart, he grew ever more aware of her absence. He wanted to touch her, to see her and smell her and run his hands through her long, blonde hair.
And he would.
Soon.
His bags were packed, his tickets laid out on the counter—he was leaving for New York the next morning. Harry was so excited to see her, there was no chance he’d sleep. Even when he managed to quiet his mind, his heart kept popping out hiccups of happiness.
They only had two days and one night together, but it was better than the zero days and zero nights they’d been living through for weeks. But, given the fact he’d fallen head-over-heels in love with her while she’d been in Bliss, he knew without a doubt how much could happen in a couple days.
There was no point denying it.
Harry was in love with Willow.
He knew it in the same way he knew he was destined to run a restaurant rather than just be a cook. He knew it the same way he knew his family had his back no matter what happened. In the same way he knew that the sun rose in the east and when it shined in Willow’s hair, it looked like a halo of spun gold.
What he didn’t know was how he was going to get Willow back in his life for good. Or how long to wait before discussing how they could live together. Or where they would live together. Basically, which one of them would have to sacrifice the life they’d built in order to be with the other.
Even worse, he really didn’t know for sure that she was interested in creating a life with him. Sure, he loved her, but did she love him? Was it silly to even wonder about such a thing when they had only spent a handful of days together?
When it came down to it, all those questions, all that fear, paled in the knowledge that in less than twenty-four hours, he would be with her.
The rest would work itself out.
Somehow, some way, the answer would make itself clear.
He wanted Willow Tamran at his side. Every day and every night. Whether they fell asleep to the sound of the ocean or the sound of horns honking in the city streets, as long as he ended the day with his arms wrapped around her, Harry knew everything would be okay.
But, how could he say any of that without sounding like a crazy person when they’d only spent a week together? He couldn’t, not yet.
Instead, he intended to see her as many times as he could manage in the coming weeks. To speak to her every day, at least once. And if that meant he had to spend a little money to get himself to her or her to him, then so be it. Willow was worth it.
They were worth it.
* * *
His flight left before the sun had fully risen. When he booked everything all those weeks ago, he planned to catch some sleep on the plane to make up for the early departure, but once he was in the air and so fucking excited to see Willow’s face, there was no way he could close his eyes.
Harry spent most of the flight clutching his armrests and bouncing his foot. At one point, the flight attendant—probably assuming he was afraid of flying—stopped by to make sure he was okay.
He beamed at her, excitement crackling in his eyes. “I am so totally more than okay.” Considering the early hour, the energy in his voice sounded out of place even to him. When the flight attendant’s sweet smile morphed into concern, he decided to elaborate. “I’m flying to see the woman I love,” he explained and watched her grimace melt back into a smile.
She patted his arm and promised they’d be on the ground soon.
Harry spent the remainder of the relatively short flight counting the seconds in his head and pretending not to notice. By the time the wheels hit the tarmac, he was ready to launch out of his seat and race down the skybridge to the terminal—as if Willow would be standing at the gate, waiting for him. But, of course, the instant the seatbelt light turned off, everyone on the plane stood and tried to clamor into the aisle, creating a massive logjam.
After what felt like year of waiting, things finally got sorted and people started moving. When he made it into the terminal, damned if he didn’t find Willow standing at security, bouncing up and down with excitement. Harry smiled with his whole body at the sight of her—driven by a singular need to erase the distance separating him from her. Somehow, as if the people between them could sense the power of his need, the crowd parted. A direct path to Willow opened and his shoes slapped against the tile in an ever-increasing rhythm of relief.
When he reached her, Harry wrapped her in his arms, picking her up and spinning her in a circle. He breathed her in as he lowered her to the ground, pressed her body close to his and laughed from the sheer happiness of being near her.
He didn’t care that he was making a spectacle of their reunion in a public place. Let them watch, he thought. He felt no shame for loving his woman so ferociously. “It is so fucking good to see you,” he murmured in between kisses.
“And it’s so fucking good to see you.” Willow’s breath caught in her chest as she choked back tears. “I can’t even begin to describe how much I missed you.”
“However much you think you missed me, I can guarantee I missed you more.”
Willow shook her head. “I promise,” she said as he kissed her. “That I…” He kissed her again. “Missed…” Another kiss. “You more!”
As they walked arm in arm, she paused in front of a gift shop. “Tell me you brought a coat and it’s in your suitcase.”
“Of course I did.” Harry bent to unzip the mostly empty bag. “I just forgot to take it out.”
“Good. We could have popped in here and bought a sweatshirt or something, but you don’t want to know what you’d have paid for it.”
Harry pulled on his coat and zipped it up but still froze in shock when he stepped outside and a blast of winter wind hit him in the face. “How do you stand it?” he asked, shivering.
Willow ducked her chin into her coat. “Just hunker down and wait for spring.”
* * *
They took a cab straight to her apartment—a small space she shared with another dancer who was conscientiously absent when they arrived. Willow dropped to her knees, prying at Harry’s belt buckle before the door even fully closed. A vague part of him suggested that he should sweep her up and carry her to the bedroom, fuck her brains out, then fall asleep cuddled up against her, but he couldn’t hear anything over the way she looked up with him in her mouth, those big blue eyes doing crazy things to his heart.
One mind-blowing orgasm later, Willow showed him around the apartment. It didn’t take long because there wasn’t that much to see. Her place was limited in the space department. Of course, what space she did have, she’d used intelligently, with an eye on artful, economic arrangements. “And here,” she said as she opened the door to her bedroom. “Is where you’ll repay me later for that blow job you just got.”
Harry dropped his bag and pulled her to him. “I’ll repay you now.” He kissed her neck and squeezed that tiny, yet spectacular ass.
Willow dropped her head back, creating more room for his mouth to explore her throat. “No can-do, big boy,” she said, practically purring. “The orgasms you give me leave my legs jellified for hours. I can’t have jelly legs onstage tonight.” She groaned. “But after? I am so totally cashing in.”
They spent the day in her apartment, talking and cuddling and making out. She suggested they go sightseeing, but since Harry had already seen the sights before and because it was December in New York and that meant it was cold as all hell outside, he was fine with just hanging out with Willow on the couch.
Besides, she was what was special about the trip.
The rest was just background.
They talked and they snuggled, and then they talked some more—like they’d always been together. And yet, knowing that he only had two days with her made him cherish every second. He promised himself he’d rem
ember each moment and took enough pictures of her that she joked about him filling up his phone.
“You know you don’t have to come to the ballet tonight,” she said as she made lunch—the biggest meal he had ever seen her eat.
“Yes, I do.” He eyed the copious amounts of chicken salad made with Greek yogurt and avocados on her plate. “This is part of you, and I want to know all of you. Therefore, through the process of intellectual extrapolation, I actually need to go see The Nutcracker.”
Willow shrugged in a manner that suggested she thought he was making a bad decision. “First of all, you can stop staring at my lunch. I know it’s a lot, but I have a big night and need my energy. And second of all, I want to make it known that I’m trying to let you off the hook here. The Nutcracker is really boring. You are not going to like it.”
Harry waved away the lunch comment and went straight for the comment about the ballet. “Are you in it?”
Willow nodded, her mouth full.
“Then I’m going to love it.”
* * *
He most definitely did not love it.
The Nutcracker was every bit as boring as Willow made it out to be—except when she was on stage. She was captivating and entrancing and the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen.
Juliet was right.
The internet was right.
Willow had a gift.
Even simple movements were filled with meaning. So strong and elegant and emotional and true that Harry found himself fighting tears for no reason at all while he watched her. There was nothing emotional about The Nutcracker, but dear God, there was everything emotional about watching Willow do what she loved most.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Willow
“I still can’t believe how fucking good you are.” Harry had been saying that ever since she found him after the show, waiting by the backstage entrance. It was the first thing he said when he saw her—right before he swept her up in a bone-crushing hug. A hug that elicited several surprised chuckles from other dancers leaving the theater. He’d said it more than once during the cab ride home and, apparently, he didn't have any intention of stopping, given that as she unlocked the door to her apartment, he was still saying it.
Willow liked a good compliment as much as anyone, but it was verging on uncomfortable. She pulled him inside the apartment and wrapped her arms around him.
“Why don’t you show me just how fucking good I am.” She kissed him, sliding her hand up his thigh, and grabbing his rapidly growing cock.
Behind her, someone coughed. “Umm…hey. I’m here.”
Shit. Her roommate had promised she wouldn't be home when they got back.
What the hell was she doing there?
Willow untangled from Harry and positioned herself in front of him to hide the very noticeable evidence of his arousal.
“Hey, Sasha. I thought you were going out tonight.” Willow widened her eyes at the younger girl in a look that said I’m going to fucking kill you if you tell me you’re not going out tonight, but the second she processed what she was seeing, her stomach sank to her feet. “Oh no! What happened?”
Sasha was stretched out on the couch, her foot propped up on a set of pillows and draped in several bags of ice. “I was planning to go out, but my ankle had other ideas.”
Willow crossed the room and gingerly lifted the bags of ice from Sasha’s leg, then flinched when she saw what they’d been hiding. The ankle was so swollen, it looked like a tennis ball was tucked just underneath the skin. A vicious bruise stretched from halfway up her shin all the way to her pinky toe. “Shit! That’s bad. Why aren’t you at the hospital?”
Harry peeked out from around Willow. “Are you the girl in the puffy dress who went down in the second act?”
“That’s me,” Sasha said with a grimace. “The girl in the puffy dress.” She gave her attention to Willow. “You know that crazy series of arabesques in Waltz of the Flowers?”
“Yep.” Willow shook her head sadly. “I thought the conductor was playing awfully fast tonight.”
Sasha took a deep breath and closed her eyes while she let it out. “That he was. Just a little too fast for the girl at the end of the line in the crazy arabesque series.”
“Did you finish dancing?”
Sasha shook her head. “I couldn’t. I got off stage as quickly as I could, but it’s all kind of a blur.” She turned to Harry. “Could you tell I wasn’t supposed to exit when I did?”
He shrugged. “I watched you leave, but I thought you were supposed to. I was really glad the timing worked out because I was pretty sure you were hurt and didn’t know how you were gonna keep dancing.”
Relief flooded Sasha’s face and she sank back into the couch. “Thank goodness.” She waved them away. “You guys go have your fun bedroom time. I’ll be fine out here. I’ll just turn up the TV and pretend I can’t hear you.”
Ignoring the look of horror on Harry’s face, Willow dutifully refilled Sasha’s drink, made sure she had a snack within reach, and checked that her ice bag was full before she took Harry’s hand and led him back to her bedroom. She closed and locked the door, then turned to him.
“You’re gonna have to keep me quiet again,” she said, putting her hands on his chest and leaning in. “Like that time on the deck at your restaurant.” Just the thought of that night had her hot and bothered.
Harry looked skeptical. “Are you sure she’s okay? Shouldn’t we take her to a hospital or something?”
“The physical therapist is sure to have checked her out as soon as she came off the stage. It doesn’t look like a break. It looks like a sprain. Which sucks, but we’ve all been there. Rest, ice, and elevation.” Willow ran her hands up her body and cupped her breasts, giving her nipples a little squeeze through her shirt. “Now, last I checked, you owed me an orgasm.”
Harry’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit, how are you so fucking hot?” His voice rasped in his throat and his eyes went dark and greedy. “Now be a good girl and take off your shirt so you can play with your nipples properly.”
Willow slowly drew her shirt over her head and tossed it on the floor. Harry choked on his breath when he saw she wasn’t wearing a bra. Maybe being small-chested had its perks, after all. She kneaded her breasts and pinched her nipples, looking down to watch as she captured the rosy peaks and rolled them between her fingers. She sucked in a breath and looked at Harry who reached between his legs and squeezed his dick.
Holy fuck, now who’s being hot? she thought to herself.
“Are you turned on, baby?” he asked. “I bet you’re so wet for me, aren’t you? Take off your pants and show me.”
She did just that, then slipped her hand into her underwear. She slid her finger across her clit and let her eyes roll closed. She didn’t know how much longer she could wait to feel him inside her. It had been too long, and she ached for him.
“Now the panties.” She did as she was told and Harry tweaked her nipple as soon as she was in reach. Willow gasped at the combination of pain and pleasure. “That won’t do, you bad girl. You’re going to have to be quiet. Can you do that, or do you need me to gag you again?”
A surge of desire weakened her knees, remembering the way his hand had clamped down on her mouth as he fucked her against the rail at his restaurant. “I don’t know if I can,” she said. “But I’ll try.”
“Good girl. Now lie down on the bed.” Harry watched as she climbed onto the mattress and stretched out on her back, opening her legs and circling her clit with her finger. His eyes dark with lust, he undressed himself, his cock springing free of his boxers. He twirled her panties on a finger as he strode toward the bed, his gaze roving her body.
“Look at you, teasing me like that. Spreading your legs for me.”
He kissed her chest and drew a nipple into his mouth. Teased her with his teeth and tongue until she arched her back and moaned against her closed lips.
“You’re not being quiet, Willow,” Harry said a
s he slid first one, then two fingers inside her, stroking her walls and rubbing the spot that made her lose her mind.
“Oh, fuck,” she moaned.
Harry placed his free hand over her mouth while he worked his magic with his fingers, moving them in and out of her while she fought back gasping screams of pleasure.
Leaning forward, he nuzzled her ear. “I want to make you come with my mouth,” he whispered. “But I can’t do that with my hand keeping you quiet.”
He stopped the magic he was creating with his fingers and removed his hand from her mouth. Then balled up her panties and placed them at her lips, instructing her to bite down on them. When she complied with his order, he lowered his face between her legs, his tongue gently circling her clit, his fingers deep inside. And then, just as she was about to come, he introduced another finger into the mix—this one a little further back—just barely penetrating her bottom.
The surprise of it detonated an orgasm throughout her being, forcing her to bite down on the panties as her entire body clenched and spasmed while she whimpered into the fabric. Without waiting for her orgasm to subside, Harry positioned himself between her legs and entered her, the warmth of his bare skin blazing into her. As he moved, the orgasm that had already started crested into another—even larger one—and she lost herself with it.
Finally satiated.
Finally full.
Finally complete.
She turned her head and covered her face with an arm, still biting down on her panties, but needing another barrier because she was quickly losing control of any ability to be quiet. Harry flicked her arm away. “I need to see your face. Look at me.”
She met his eyes and watched as he finally came. Saw the pleasure on his face as he crossed over the edge. He held eye contact with her as he spent himself inside her. “Mine,” he whispered with a final shudder. “I claim you as mine.”
