I sipped the cocktail with triple sec and then the one with simple syrup. They were both yummy.
Choices. Choices.
And I did need to make a choice. After sampling multiple times, although tipsy, the choice was certain. The orange of the triple sec was just too much and confused the flavor profile. Once I fashioned together a few glasses, I grabbed my camera and took several photos.
Grady: Just landed in New York.
Grady: I have twenty-seven minutes before my flight to East Harbour.
Harlow: Are you going to make it to the wedding on time?
Grady: I should. Are you sure that I can’t pick you up on the way to the ceremony?
Harlow: I’ve been working on a few cocktail recipes today. I’m a little drunk.
Harlow: I don’t want to show up wasted to your friend’s wedding.
Grady: Understandable. Day drinking is an art form.
Harlow: Definitely a marathon, not a sprint.
Grady: How are things with Cocktails & Couture? I’m guessing good, if you’re drunk.
Harlow: I can’t believe the views that it’s getting.
Grady: I enjoyed the travel packing tips post.
Harlow: You read that post?
Grady: I’m sure that I’ve read all of them. And I signed up for your newsletter.
Grady: Is the bikini in the photo one that you’ll be wearing in the Caribbean?
Harlow: Perhaps.
Grady: Fantastic. For the second part of our trip, we have a private beach.
Grady: Clothing is optional.
Harlow: I’m not sunbathing nude.
Grady: Topless?
Harlow: How private is this beach? Are you going to tell me where you’re taking me?
Grady: Nope. You need to embrace the element of surprise.
Grady: How about you send me a picture of you topless right now?
Harlow: Haven’t we discussed nude photos already?
Harlow: No nude selfies. Ever.
Grady: Get a Snap Chat account.
Harlow: No.
Grady: Redirect.
Grady: How much convincing do I need in order to get you into my bed naked tonight?
Harlow: You’re going to be exhausted after traveling and the wedding.
Grady: I’ll never be too exhausted to fuck you.
Grady: Time to board. Give some thought to spending the night with me. I want to see you.
Grady: I don’t think I can wait until tomorrow to kiss you.
Grady: Redirect.
Grady: I’m not waiting. Want you in my bed tonight or I’ll be in yours.
Grady: I have to admit. This wedding is rather romantic.
Harlow: Aren’t all weddings romantic?
Grady: I suppose.
Grady: What are you doing? Still drinking?
Harlow: No. I went for a swim to help sober up.
Harlow: Now, I’m eating pineapple and shrimp tacos.
Grady: And you didn’t send me a picture of you in a swimsuit?
Grady: How much do you love pineapple?
Harlow: You didn’t send me a picture of you in a suit.
Harlow: Pineapple is sweet and juicy. What’s not to love?
Grady: Fair point.
Grady: BTW, the innuendo door is wide open for me about your sweet and juicy expletive.
Harlow: I love it when you talk dirty to me, especially when you censor yourself. Hot.
Grady: I’m sweating my balls off. Beach weddings are hot as fuck, even at dusk.
Harlow: Tell me about the bride’s dress.
Grady: Ivory I think. Could be off white. Strapless.
Grady: I have a picture of Alex and Ella. I can show you later.
Harlow: I haven’t said yes, to spending the night with you, yet.
Grady: You said yet. That implies you will.
Harlow: Perhaps.
Grady: You will.
Harlow: I was thinking. We need to get a couple of rafts.
Harlow: For your boat and for your pool.
Harlow: Like a pink flamingo or I found a pineapple shaped one.
Grady: Anything you want. You got it.
Grady: The bride and groom just left.
Grady: Am I on my way to your house or are you coming to mine?
Harlow: I’m out the door. You need to sleep in your own bed tonight.
Grady: Sleep? That’s cute. I won’t be doing much sleeping in my bed tonight.
Grady: My headboard is going to punch a hole into my wall tonight, sweetheart.
I parked my car and tossed my keys into my handbag. Hauling my overnight bag higher onto my shoulder, I walked up the stone sidewalk. It was a gorgeous summer evening, storybook perfect, no humidity and the smell of chlorine and oriental lilies hung in the air. Squinting, I tapped the code into security pad and then pushed open the door.
“Grady, I’m here.”
The entryway was dark, a little bit of light illuminated the kitchen. As I stepped further into the house, the glint from the moon splashed over every fixture and surface. I dropped my bag to the floor and set my laptop and handbag on the island.
“Whoa.” A voice said—his voice. I’d know Grady’s voice anywhere.
I turned around to face him. The moonlight passed over his face, when he stepped in front of the window. I studied his neck, and his five o’clock shadow. Dirty thoughts surfaced, thinking about his face between my legs with that scruff rubbing against my most sensitive spots. I pressed my thighs together, averting my eyes to concentrate on the buttons of his dress shirt, two at the top, unbuttoned with his tie draped loosely around his neck.
One . . . two . . . three . . . four strides and he was on me, pushing my back against the cool glass of his refrigerator.
“You’re in a bikini.”
“Well, you did say that you wanted to see it.”
“You drove to my house wearing a bikini in the middle of the night.” His finger teased under the thin strap of my top brushing across the rise of my breast. “You’re such a weirdo, I love it.”
Brushing my hair to the side, his eyes met mine. He leaned into me, kissing his way up my neck and over my jaw. He sealed his mouth over mine, kissing me deeply, sucking all the air out of my lungs.
“I’m the weirdo, you’ve been texting me perverse and filthy things all day.” He nipped my bottom lip making me moan.
“You don’t mind, though.” His fingers dipped inside my bikini bottoms. My cheeks heated, feeling the rush of wetness pooling between my thighs. A groan rattled his throat, when his fingers pushed inside me.
His hands slid to my ass, spreading my arousal along my hip. When his lips kissed below my ear, while gripping and kneading my bare flesh, I nearly lost my mind. My fingers dug into his shoulder, and everything tightened inside me.
“You’re so hot,” he murmured against my skin.
Grady lifted me up onto the island, the sound of my thighs slapping against the surface was the only thing that I registered before his mouth was on me again. I managed to knock the fruit bowl over sending whatever was in there rolling onto the floor.
“Sorry, about that,” I laughed against his lips.
His hand slid under my top, caressing my breast. “Not a problem. Are you clumsy around all fruit?” he asked, his finger pinching my nipple.
My hands gripped his forearms. “It seems that way.”
“Except for pineapples,” he mused.
“Yeah, pineapples.”
Snaking my arms around his neck, I wanted to say something dirty, something depraved but words were lost in a haze with Grady’s fingers sliding up and under my thighs. He took me by surprise when his chest pressed against mine propelling me backwards.
“Now, I’m going do something that I’ve fantasized about since the day I saw you at Buchanan Beauty.” With a snap of his wrist he removed his tie from around his neck and tossed it onto the counter. My breath hitched at the possibility of him using it to blindfold me or tie me up. Part
s of me wondered if I’d even like that—if I could let go and give up control.
My hips jerked, when I felt the ties of my bottoms fall away. “Lift up, I want you bare.”
I arched up, and Grady removed the fabric from my body. I was opened and exposed to him in the most vulnerable way. Goosebumps splashed across my body when his warm breath fanned across my skin. I levered up onto my elbows watching him as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.
“I’m going to eat you so well that you’ll get wet tomorrow just thinking about it and then I’m going to fuck you in a way that makes you throb when you have flashbacks.” His voice was rich and full of promise.
“Good, because I want to hug your face with my thighs.”
Teasing me, his lips trailed up my stomach as his fingertips grazed my thighs. His tongue lashed over my skin, rubbing my clit with his thumb and driving me out of my mind.
“Oh, fuck—your mouth.” My fingers twisted and pulled his dark strands while I murmured inaudible pleas and hummed moans of satisfaction.
“You look just as beautiful as I imagined you would.”
Two long fingers pushed inside me as he continued licking me into an epic orgasm. Searing pleasure wound its way through me at the primal way he ate and licked my pussy. This was a man who knew his way around a woman’s clit. Grady James was both a scholar and a gentleman when it came to all things foreplay and fucking.
“I love the taste of you on my tongue.”
“Grady.” His name came out in desperate plea wanting him to soothe the needy ache deep inside me. The ache he created.
I wanted more—more of this, more of him. Increasing, his rhythm, his lips and tongue worked a delicious friction making me hot and slick. The scrape of his stubble against my thighs made me drunk with lust and I rocked against him.
“There’s my dirty girl,” he groaned against my skin. “Does it feel good when you rub your gorgeous pussy against my face?”
Fucking hell. His teeth nipped and sucked my folds, biting the tender skin ever so slightly.
“Please,” I moaned feeling my muscles tightening and pulsing.
He twisted his fingers inside me, and his tongue lashed over my skin making me cry out as my orgasm ripped through my body. Toe-curling, mind numbing explosions unleashed and a tidal wave of heat crashing over me.
“Grady!” His name bounced off every wall and beam in his home. He tongue fucked me through another orgasm and I had to push him away, it was too much. Multiples were his specialty, as if further convincing was needed. If my legs weren’t jellied I’d stand up, clap, and cheer giving him the proper ovation he deserved for that performance.
I gazed up at him, watching as Grady pushed his dark hair away from his eyes.
“Is it okay to kiss you after, that?”
“Mmmm hmm.”
He dipped his head, crushing his lips to mine. My tongue stroked against his. A shiver moved through me, tasting me on him. His hands threaded through my hair, gripping at the base of my neck pulling me up to him. “Now since you’ve wrecked my kitchen, let’s go wreak havoc in my bedroom.”
“TELL ME ABOUT THE pineapples.”
“Is this code for something sexual?” Harlow asked, nuzzling her face into the crook of my shoulder.
“No, it’s about your affection for the fruit, which I hear that the government made some of them pink.”
“Yeah, they’re totally cute.”
“You’re totally cute.” My fingers skimmed over the curve of her hip, drifting up her ribcage. Cupping her breast, my thumb traced her nipple, coaxing it to attention.
She hummed in response, scratching her nails up and down my abs. “It’s a silly childhood story.”
Smiling, I kissed the top of her head. I liked knowing that part or parts of her childhood held some happiness for her. Everything I’d learned about Harlow’s past held pain and sadness.
“Silly childhood stories are my favorite. Remind me to tell you about the time I peed on the kitchen floor in front of my mother and her friends.”
Her face twisted up. “Was this recently?”
“Yes, it was just last month as matter of fact.” I waggled my brows. “No, I was seven, and that night I was dazed and confused. I made the mistake of walking into the kitchen instead of the bathroom. Without missing a beat, I dropped my Underoos and pissed all over the wood floor.”
Her hands covered her face as she giggled. “Oh my God, was your mom mortified?”
“It was hard to tell. I remember the laughter bringing me out of my daze. When I finished, my mother handed me a roll of paper towels and told me to clean it up.”
She shifted her position in bed to look at me. “My story is a different kind of silly.”
My lips traced the smooth expanse of her shoulder. She twisted out of my hold, rolling up to lean against the headboard, which was still intact despite my best efforts to make good on my earlier promise. It was probably better that way I wasn’t in the mood for any home repairs.
She shoved a hand through her auburn strands, sweeping them around her shoulder. “In sixth grade, I hit a growth spurt. I was the tallest girl in my class and I was taller than most of the boys too. Having hair the color of a tomato didn’t help matters, the teasing was relentless. My classmates made fun of me and called me names—Giant, sometimes Jolly Red Giant, Stretch, Chewy, and Big Bird. You can guess where I’m going with this. It made me feel more awkward than I already did.” She released a long sigh. “I came home in tears one afternoon after finding out my best friend, Marie, had made a scrapbook with my face plastered on a giraffe’s body, a brontosaurus, an anaconda, even Chewy from Star Wars.”
Harlow glanced over her shoulder. “Somehow Marie found out about the movie The Fifty Foot Woman, and glued my face to her body. Bright pink and yellow fliers were taped up in the girls’ bathroom and all over the hallways.”
I searched my brain and my vocabulary wanting to say something more than just “sorry.” I wasn’t subjected to any teasing in school that I could recall. However, in college, I took my punches when people found out I was modeling. That was nothing compared to what Harlow went through. Teasing at a young age, especially during the awkward and formidable years, can stick with you and carry into your adult life.
Harlow slid down and rolled onto her side, her hazel eyes boring into mine. “After I shared everything with my mom, she told me to embrace my height. She said, ‘Harlow, be a pineapple—stand tall, and pretend that you’re wearing a crown. No matter what, always be sweet.’ Then she babbled on about having a prickly skin, but unlike the pineapple my spikes didn’t show but I would need it to survive in the world.” She laughed and rolled the pineapple charm between her fingers. “The advice stuck with me and the rest is history.”
My hands tangled in her hair, and I pulled her face to mine. “I think what your mom was saying, is that you are fierce on the outside and sweet on the inside.”
She leaned in, kissing me softly. “I think you’re right.”
“Stick with me, sweetheart, you’ll find out that I’m right about a lot of things.”
As it turned out, Harlow stuck with me that weekend and the next and by mid-July the two of us had slid into a comfortable routine. There were Saturday morning trips to the farmers’ market, afternoons on the boat, Sunday brunches for two and daily workouts. She cheered me on at my polo matches and I had become the official taste tester for new Cocktails and Couture recipes.
Over the last few weeks we slowly checked off places on her “Good Eats” list. We had her coffee place locked in—North Harbour Coffee Shop’s salted caramel iced coffee had erased memories of her time in Italy. Although, she said it felt sacrilegious to dare even admit. Pastries, specifically double chocolate muffins from The Bake Shoppe, were her new obsession, and we were still on the hunt for the perfect cheesecake. Most Friday nights consisted of meals with an assortment of fried foods and then going back to my place to binge watch Vampire Diaries and her new favorit
e, Riverdale.
Not once did we search the gossip sites for our names, although, Zanita and Haven both sent texts with headlines of interest.
Heather Young believes in Morning Sex and Yoga—breakfast of champions.
Grady James and Harlow Trembley Dating: New Couple PDA Farmers’ Market Date.
Harry Brackman and England Fall Short of World Cup Victory—No More Ex-cuses.
Heather Young Wants Grady James Back from Harlow Trembley.
Harry Brackman Spotted in London Night Club with Unidentified Blonde.
We hadn’t officially discussed our arrangement or revisited the original terms. Whatever this was, felt like an actual honest relationship. A relationship free of Hollywood drama, it felt so fucking awesome. Except that we were both celebrities and the shadows of Hollywood were never far behind. I couldn’t help but wonder what was lurking around those dark shadows for Harlow and me.
What social media drama would pop up? Would a crazy fan threaten her life? Would someone hack our phones and find something sacred to the two of us and make it public knowledge?
Exposed.
Ironically, those in between moments the ones the cameras or onlookers didn’t capture were my favorite. Stolen kisses and hand grazes. The whispered compliments, alternated with dirty promises we’d fulfill in the bedroom or nearest unoccupied space.
Droplets of water rained over my chest. “What are you thinking so hard about?” Harlow asked, running her finger over my lips and chin.
I smiled over at her from my position on the giant pink flamingo raft that we were drifting around on the ocean waves. “Honestly, I was thinking about us.”
She propped her chin onto my chest. “Us, I like the sound of that.”
“What do you think about the possibility of a real us?”
“I’m going to need you to elaborate.” Her palm smoothed over my shoulder and down my chest. “Because this feels real.”
“Okay, how about we toss the arrangement and you and I date for real?”
A slow smile spread across her lips. “That’s cute.”
Healed by You Page 14
