Harper
It’s been an hour since he called me out on the sidewalk next to the statue. Since then, he’s been a living statue himself. After the tour, I suggested we go shopping, and he agreed because he still needed a gift for his mother.
“So, after the show, it’s back to auditioning. Nothing is ever guaranteed, but with Retro on my résumé, it could be a busy summer. At least I hope so.” I have no idea if he’s listening, but I’ve been rambling for five minutes, my nerves firing off. The start of our day was nothing short of spectacular, the last hour has been a fantastical freaking mess. He’s angry, and it’s apparent. When we were together, we rarely seriously fought, if ever. This dynamic between us hurts more because not only are we not together, but I have a feeling he regrets coming to New York.
“You have a lot going on, that’s for sure,” he speaks up finally, thumbing through some scarves.
“I’ve needed to be happy about being busy, right? Most dancers don’t get this far. I’m proud of myself.”
“Lots of me and I going on,” he mumbles before picking up a jewelry box.
“What’s that?” I heard him, and he knows it.
“Nothing.”
“I’ve missed you, you know? More than you can imagine.”
“Can’t imagine it at all,” he says, picking through a book he’s not reading.
“Can I help you two?” One of the store sales associates asks, and I shake my head and smile. When she takes her leave, I look over to Lance who stands fuming on the other side of a table filled with loose items. We’re in a mismatch shop full of mostly cheap junk, and I can’t imagine him finding anything for his mother here.
“Lance, I have missed you. Horribly.”
“Could have fooled me.”
I can only take so much. Irritated, I lift a designer coffee mug from the table.
“You like this for your mom?”
“No.”
“How about this?”
“Nope.” He’s not even looking at what’s in my hands.
“You sure? It’s a hide purse. Cute for a rancher’s wife, don’t you think?” This gets his attention, and stormy eyes lift to mine.
“Would you buy that for you?”
I look it over and shake my head. “Not really my style.”
“Bet it’s not.”
I can feel my ears reddening. Fuming, I eye a box on the shelf, snatch it and shove it into his chest. “How about this giant freaking purple dildo and matching anal plug!? Think Mom will like that?”
He looks up completely unaffected, “Nope.”
“I don’t think we’re in the right place.” Tossing the box down, I stalk out of the cluttered shop and into the department store next to it. He’s hot on my heels.
“Got that fucking right.”
I turn back to see he’s spoiling for a fight and release a stressed breath. Fighting with him is the last thing I want to do. “Look, let’s just…” I search around and pull a sweater from the closest rack. “How about this? Simple, elegant.”
“You think Mom’s simple, huh? I’ll give her your regards.”
“That’s it.” I hook the sweater back on to the rack and close the space between us, forcing his eyes to mine. “God, you’re still a brute, aren’t you? You haven’t changed a bit. Still pigheaded as hell.”
“Pigheaded?” He opens his mouth in mock shock and covers his chest with his hand. “How dare you.”
I’m in between fight or flight, but I’ve been dodging this long enough. My heart can’t take more confrontation. I’ve missed him too much. His eyes flare with satisfaction at my irritation. “Misery loves company, right, Lance?”
“Never said I was miserable.”
“You don’t have to. Did you come to New York just to torture me?”
“Maybe.”
“Rub it in over what I’m missing out on?”
A voice sounds from next to us. “Is there something I can help you find today?”
We both turn to the woman with lasers in our eyes, and she swallows. I clear my throat. “We’re fine. Thank you.”
Lance winks at the woman, his eyes scanning her form. “Maybe you can help me?”
“You son of a bitch,” I hiss, before walking away from the table. His voice rings out next to me as I rip through a rack of scarves.
“Good to know you care, Priss, gotta admit, it’s surprising.”
I reel on him. “Don’t you dare! Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I had to make a clean break. I had just lost everyone that mattered to me. I was losing my mind.”
“I got pissed for one day, and you went off the grid.”
“And you let me go because you knew no matter how much we wanted it to work, it couldn’t. You have no idea what I went through!”
“What you went through? Do you know I spent six months ranting to an Uber driver named Dave because everyone on my team hated me when the truth came out?” He stomps after me as I pull sweater after sweater off the rack. “Troy jumped ship after he got drafted. I had no one but Tony and those fights.”
I turn to him with twenty sweaters in my arms. “Jenner? When did y’all get so tight?”
“When shit got tough, and my fucking girlfriend bailed!” He glares down at me, his breaths coming out fast.
“Guys, we’re going to need you to take this outside.” A woman, whom I assume is the store manager, approaches us cautiously.
I look around the store and see all eyes are on us, especially the women sizing him up. “He’s available, ladies,” I snap, laying the sweaters on a nearby table, “I’m willing to bet he comes really cheap.” He’s on my heels as I push through the glass of the department store.
“Oh, was I supposed to wait for you? Must have missed that memo. That’s it, you must want a saint. That’s why you didn’t stay.”
“I was twenty years old and alienated from a place I didn’t want to be anyway.”
“Good to know.”
“That’s not the way I meant it. And you know damn well until you, I was only there to appease my dad, who I barely speak to now.”
“I’m sorry about that, I am, but that’s on him. And what in the hell are you talking about ‘alienated’?”
“Forget it.” I pull on my gloves as heavy snow starts to come down. “I think we’ve concluded our tour for today.”
He glances around the sidewalk. “Well, no need to show me more, I hate this fucking place!”
“And why is that? Not enough free-range chickens?!”
His eyes flare. “You digging on the ranch now, Priss? I saw a damned rat the size of a cat on my run this morning!”
“Probably has better manners than you, shithead.”
“Pulling out the big guns now, huh? There’s that backbone. I was wondering where it went.”
“Go home, Lance, you hate it here. And you obviously hate me.”
“Just the opposite. It’s impossible, and believe me, I’m trying!”
“Well, I hope you succeed! Thanks for stopping by, Mary Poppins. Best Christmas ever! Make sure to bulldoze the nativity scene on your way out!”
“Fuck this.” He throws his hands up and eyes me warily before turning and walking away.
“Merry Christmas to you, too!”
Harper
“René?”
“In here, Mami.”
Blotting my face with my scarf, I hang it on the hall tree before making my way to his room. I find him shuffling through his closet. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for the perfect pajamas for dis White Christmas! I want to have one of dose nights where I’m comfortable in my pajamas and eat good soup. Ju knows, cozy. I love dose nights.”
“Where is Ricky?”
“Working. But he’s off tomorrow. Ju not going to Nana’s?”
“No, I saw her today with Lance.”
“Where is he?”
“At his hotel, I guess.”
“Oh, well, ju can joi
n me if ju want. I’ll drink two, maybe three bottles of wine. We can watch the snow fall and plan my massive funeral. Pretend it’s like Princess Diana’s.”
“You’re the weirdest man ever.”
“I know. Now, where did I put dose damn pajamas?” He moves a pile of sweaters and glances back at me. “Oh no, have ju been crying?
“Yes. Lance and I just had the biggest fight. It started in the department store and then turned into a street brawl. He’s still pissed I broke up with him.”
He doesn’t look the least bit surprised. “Uh huh.”
“And he’s acting like a total possessive dick. Like he has any right after two years.”
“Uh huh.”
“Every time I say something about the show, about dancing, he starts getting snippy.”
“Like he resents jour life here, jour career?”
“Exactly. And I’ve only been supportive and happy for him.”
He turns to me with a sweater in his hands.
“Mami. Have ju had sex with him?”
“No. He’s barely touched me. I mean, we’ve held hands, but nothing beyond that.”
“Uh huh.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” He pulls out a small suitcase from the floor of his closet, unzips it, and puts one of his sweaters inside.
“What are you doing?”
“Packing.”
“Why?”
“I told ju my plans.”
“You said you were going to get drunk and watch the snow fall.”
“Oh, I am. But at Ricky’s.”
“Don’t go. I’ll get drunk and watch it with you.”
“Sorry. No can do. Hand me my sheashell bag on my dresser over dere, would ju?”
I hand him the bag, and he tosses it in the suitcase. “I don’t understand why you’re leaving.”
He shakes his head. “Ju will very soon.”
He adds his pajamas and another sweater to the suitcase along with a pair of jeans before he zips it shut.
“You told me that you’ll be here no matter what!”
“Jes and I mean it.”
“But you’re leaving?!”
“I’m making room for the other man in jour life.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, baby. Ju are so blind sometimes. Sigh.”
“You don’t say sigh, you text sigh, or you actually sigh, and don’t you dare walk out that door!”
“Ju don’t need me tonight. When’s the last time ju got waxed?”
“What?”
“Humor me, Mami.”
“Jesus, I don’t know, four days ago, why?”
He kisses my temple. “Perfect.”
“René, you can’t leave me alone on Christmas.”
“I’m not.” I follow him out into the kitchen, where he plucks two cups of his Keurig coffee and shoves them into his backpack.
“Fine, go, but I’m keeping this wine.” I pick up two bottles off the kitchen counter and hold them tightly to me. “You’re leaving this.”
He smiles. “All jours. To celebrate.”
“Enough with the bullshit. What in the hell are you talking about?”
Arms full, I follow him to the front door, and he opens it before turning to me with a telling smile on his lips. “Jour about to have the bes sex of jour life. I envy ju.” He kisses my cheek. “Merry Christmas.”
I’m still gaping at the door, hugging the wine bottles to me when my phone pings in my purse from where it sits on the hall tree. Depositing the bottles in the seat, I pick it up to see René’s just sent me a real-time pic of Lance, walking toward our building.
Shit!
Scrambling to the bathroom, I clear my face of my ugly cry makeup and swish mouthwash for a good fifteen seconds. I barely have time to rinse when a knock sounds on the door. Heart pounding along with my feet, I race toward it and fling it open, breath stolen when I see the look in Lance’s eyes. Tears spill over my cheeks as he takes a step forward.
“Priss, I’m sorr—”
I launch myself at him, and he grips my face, holding me just an inch away from him, his eyes searching mine, a curse erupting from his lips right before he crushes me with his kiss. He presses in, my cries stifled by the pressure of his lips before he sweeps his tongue along the seam, and I open for him. Our kiss is endless, as he steps inside with me wrapped around him. I’m already drunk on the thrust of his tongue, so deep, so perfect as he groans into my mouth. A collective sigh escapes us both as he kisses me so intensely, I fight for more. My hands urgent, he pulls his away and pins me to the door, eyes hooded, his breaths coming out harsh. “Are we alone?”
Thank you, René.
“Yes.”
“Thank fuck,” he says roughly before he again claims my mouth, hungry. He’s already grinding against me, and I’m matching every thrust of his hips as our tongues clash violently. I’m covered in desire, drowning in need. He pulls away, kissing every inch of my face as I rip at his hair, his sweater. He’s just as eager, getting my blazer off before he begins to work on my shirt.
“I’ve missed you so much,” I murmur between kisses.
“Fuck, baby, I thought I’d never see you again.”
“Lance, please, please hurry.”
“How many shirts do you have on?”
“Rip them off!” I practically scream as one of them catches, hooking my mouth like a fish. We burst out laughing until our mouths again collide.
When we pull away, he sets me on my feet, unhooking my bra and letting it fall away before covering my naked breasts with warm hands. Goosebumps erupt over my skin as he speaks to me in a dreamlike state. “I could never hate you, Priss, never.” He scoops me into his arms and gazes down at me in a way I could only dream about. It’s his eyes that convey so much. He gently deposits me on the couch, hovering above me, his forearms next to my head.
“I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is fight with you.”
“You love fighting with me.”
His smile lights me up. “That’s true.”
I struggle to get his T-shirt off before he reaches behind him, gripping it with his fist, quickly discarding it.
“Harper,” he murmurs as he hovers above, his face the picture of restraint as I explore his chest, my palm roaming over the nuances, the indents of muscle on his torso. “Jesus, Lance, you’re so…”
He quirks a brow. “So?”
“Hot,” I grin up at him. “So…fucking hot.”
“I missed you so much,” he takes one nipple in his mouth and sucks, his eyes trained on his task while I observe the way his thick lips surround my taut skin. It’s so fucking sexy. Gripping his hair, he trails his mouth down my navel, toying with the waistband of my pants as he brings lust-filled eyes to mine. “How long do we have until we’re not alone?”
“All night.”
He nods and bites his lip.
I bite mine for a different reason. “Lance?”
He licks a trail over my skin, before stinging and soothing with his perfect mouth. “Mm?”
He pauses his movement sensing my question and guilty eyes meet mine before he drops his head to my stomach.
“I mean, of course you have,” I attempt to say in a light tone, but instead, it comes out reflecting the hurt I feel. That I have no right to feel.
“René’s got condoms somewhere.” I move from underneath him to stand, and he lets me go. The sight of him shirtless on my couch does the most erotic shit to me. “I’ll be right back.”
René has a new box of condoms in his bedside table. I make a mental note to not only replace his wine but gift him everything on my dresser. Best friend ever.
Back in the living room, Lance sits on the couch, staring out the window, lost in his thoughts.
I approach him cautiously but decide not to let his change in mood deter me. I need him, and I’m not wasting another second fighting with him or worrying about what he did when we were apart.
I straddle him
and grip his chin in my hand. “Don’t get wrapped in your head,” I murmur. “Please, not right now. Please, I need you to touch me.”
He searches my eyes in question.
I shake my head.
“Priss—”
I unzip his jeans, releasing his cock, pumping his thickness in my hand. The hiss through his teeth and the lift of his eyes to mine is my undoing.
“Touch me, Lance. You’re the only one…”
My words seem to break his heart, but he does, he lifts a hand and easily covers my breast with it. “So beautiful, Priss.”
I pull away and stand, pushing down my panties and ripping open a condom as he slides his jeans down to his thighs. He grabs the latex from me and rolls it on, and I straddle him again, our mouths crashing together the instant I’m back in his arms. I lift, and he lines us up, our eyes connected. Wincing at the invasion, I sink onto him slowly, feeling every bit of the stretch.
“Jesus, Harper,” he grits out, stilling me. “Easy, baby.”
“More, more. Please more.”
Slowly he thrusts up, stealing my breath and the last of my control. Ignoring the sting, I grind on his thick length, flicker turning flame as I begin to swivel my hips and meet his steady thrusts.
“Fuck, fuck,” he grunts, gripping the back of my head, mouth parted, warm breath hitting my lips. With him, I feel it, the magnetic pull, the need, the want, the raw desire, the lust, the love. I ride him, slowly, our hearts syncing up as if no time at all has passed. In his eyes, I see answers to my every question, it’s possession, love, and mirrored lust. “Harper,” he murmurs before leaning in to kiss me, his strokes quickening as we both ignite. He’s deep, hitting me perfectly, and I feel myself on the brink before he stills me, positioning me on my back while starting a slow drive into me.
“It’s you,” he says, pressing in deep, the couch dragging along the hardwood with his every thrust. “It’s you,” he repeats to the open wound I’ve spent years trying to heal. Tears threaten as I pull him down to meet my kiss, and he returns it with hunger, with fervor, with hope. It’s then we combust, his thrusts quickening to a manic pace—hard, deep, so much friction. Our breaths and words mingle as I tip over and come, my fast breaths pumping into his mouth. The orgasm is a crushing wave that takes over the whole of me as Lance plunges once, twice, and gasps out my name until we both lay speechless.
The Underdogs: The Complete Series Page 76
