Harbour (Runaway Home #1)

by Penelope Louleas

  "Mmm, that feels divine." I coax him to continue rubbing my back. I feel like a footballer who has just played the game of their life. Or maybe more like a gymnast with the moves I was pulling. I blush thinking about how many different positions we were in only hours ago. I giggle. "What's funny, sweetheart? If it's about Junior pressing into your ass I apologize, he has a mind of his own."

  I turn and playfully slap his shoulder. "No! I was just thinking about some of the Kama Sutra moves we were doing earlier. No wonder my body is aching."

  "Well, if my memory serves me correctly, I believe it was you who was initiating most of those positions. I'm happy to fuck you in the good old traditional way."

  He continues to rub my back and inadvertently poke my ass.

  "Well, to be fair, I've seen a lot of things I've wanted to try, and you're a willing participant so I blame us both."

  He freezes and leans forward, his lips right next to my ear.

  "Where have you seen these things, Harbour? And be careful how you answer."

  I laugh and turn my body to face him. "Why be careful how I answer? What's the wrong answer?"

  He drops the washcloth and leans back against the tub, shifting his hips slightly to show how erect he is.

  "If you're about to tell me how you watch porn and touch yourself I can't be held responsible for Junior's actions. My guess is it's something along those lines so like I said, be careful, and chose your words wisely." He speaks in a low, menacing tone. He makes me want to say the wrong thing. Hell, he makes me want to give him head in here, even if it means I could possibly drown. I move away from him and settle at the opposite end of the tub.

  "Okay, lower your mast, Captain. Yes, I watch porn, but not full movies, just GIFS on tumblr. It's like a short clip of a porn movie, maybe five seconds or so."

  "What good is that? You miss the entire storyline!"

  I snort with laughter. "Yeah, those amazingly deep story lines. What am I thinking?"

  He pins me with a serious look, shifts forward and stands. I think he's about to climb out of the tub but he comes up to my face, holding his hard cock in his hand.

  "I told you to choose your words wisely. Telling me you watch porn and not for the story line, then saying the words 'amazingly deep' in the same breath wasn't wise. Now, open wide."

  ****

  Finally, after a surprisingly erotic bath and yet another round of bedroom gymnastics, I convince Lincoln to leave the apartment for an early dinner. We manage to dress and leave the apartment without any distractions.

  Lincoln takes me to one of his favorite restaurants on Park Avenue. I’m suddenly very glad I dressed up. The restaurant is very fancy—maybe too fancy for me.

  Lincoln is greeted by name and we're seated at a semi-private table in the back. The waiter arrives to take our drink orders but leaves no menu.

  "No menu? How do we know what to order?"

  "I come here quite often, so I know what’s good." He pauses to taste the wine that the sommelier brings over. After Lincoln’s approving nod, the waiter fills our glasses and leaves.

  "And judging by your bedroom antics, you love variety and have no objections to trying something new." There’s that damn sexy wink again. I shift in my seat and he grins at me.

  "Yes, that would be an accurate assumption, Mr. Whitmore." I give him the sexiest look I can while taking a sip of the exquisite wine from my glass.

  "Jesus, Harbour, can we have one meal where you aren't fucking me with your eyes?" I nearly choke on my wine. I stare at him, completely gob smacked, not just at his choice of words but also at the volume in which he spoke them. My eyes are bugging, my mouth is wide open. Then he laughs. And not just a low laugh; a full belly laugh that attracts the attention of every patron in the restaurant. I'm still confused, and slightly shocked.

  He wipes his eyes and leans forward. "You should see your face, sweetheart. It's priceless!" He thankfully lowers his voice. "You can fuck me with your eyes, mouth and pretty pussy anytime, baby, I'm just messing with you."

  I sit back in my chair and fold my arms. Is he for real? "Did you just really punk me in a three hatted restaurant? Seriously?" I'm pissed off and I think he can tell. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat and looks down at the table before making eye contact.

  "Sweetheart, I thought it was funny. I'm sorry. Nobody heard me, I swear." Yep, he's nervous that I'm about to lose it and with good reason. I was close to throwing my wine in his face and storming out of here. But then, I'm not a diva, and I bet he never made jokes like this with his exes because they were too prudish to laugh along with him.

  An internal war begins in me, one side saying he wouldn't do it with them because they're ladies and wouldn't accept that kind of behavior, and the other side telling me to throw back a sarcastic remark and laugh it off.

  I have to address this before it stews and becomes a bigger issue. In almost a whisper, I ask him, "Lincoln, did you say that because you wanted to be funny or because you have such low respect for me that you're happy to embarrass me in a restaurant that I already feel overwhelmed in? Be honest, please."

  A look of shock and then shame crosses his features. He stands, takes out his wallet and places a few hundred dollars on the table. Grabbing my coat, purse, and then my arm, he hurriedly leads me out of the restaurant. He's walking so fast that I struggle to keep up. Once we're on the street, I pull my arm from his hand and stop.

  "What the fuck, Lincoln? What is your problem?" My voice is low so as not to create a scene, but the no-bullshit tone is clear.

  He runs his hand through his hair and curses under his breath just as the town car arrives. He opens the door and asks me to get in. I sigh and dejectedly enter the car. Great. Has he just realized that I'm not classy enough for his restaurants and that's the kind of girl he needs? Or maybe he's realized I'm not cheap enough to be spoken to like a whore and that's what he likes?

  He settles in next to me and asks the driver in a rather harsh tone to, "Just drive until I tell you to stop." He raises the partition, giving us privacy from the poor guy.

  "Harbour, I'm so fucking sorry. I can't believe I spoke to you like that. I'm so goddam angry at myself. Jesus. It's like I forget who I am with you. I promise you it was said with no malice intended." He runs his hands through his hair and curses under his breath. "Sometimes I forget we're not alone, and I know that doesn't excuse what I said. What killed me in there though was that you thought I would speak to you like that because I think you're not a lady."

  My hands are clasped together in my lap and I'm staring at them intently. I need to concentrate on his words and I know that one look in his gorgeous eyes and I'll be mesmerized and forget why I'm upset.

  He tilts my chin up to face him before he continues. Yep, I'm a goner. Damn it. "Harbour, I've dated many women, not many ladies. Believe me when I tell you, no one has ever compared to you in any department: looks, personality, class . . . none of them had anything on you. To me, you’re perfect, and I'm so sorry I made you doubt that tonight. I feel really fucking stupid. Tell me what I can do to make it up to you, to prove to you that I'm not an asshole."

  His face is full of sincerity. He really feels bad for what he said. Now I feel like I overreacted. "Why did we leave the restaurant? If you're so sure nobody heard your comment then why did we have to leave?"

  He sighs and shakes his head. "You said you felt overwhelmed, which translates to uncomfortable. I never want you to be somewhere you don't want to be. It's my job to make you happy, and I can't do that by making you eat in a restaurant that makes you feel like you can't be yourself. It's the 'eats pizza on the floor in my office' Harbour that I love. No pretending. No acting. No bullshit. Just you."

  I swallow and stare at him, waiting for him to realize what he just said. Was it an accident? Was he serious? I wait. Nothing. No take-backs, but no comments, either.

  The seconds feel like minutes. He gently cups my face in his large hands and answers me before I can ask hi
m. "Yes, I love you, Harbour."

  My mouth and brain are stunned silent and I swear my heart stops beating. There it is. What you've wanted to say to him but were afraid to. Three words you were scared to hear, but damn, they sound amazing coming from Lincoln's beautiful mouth. My brain reboots and sends an instant message: Fucking say something, idiot!

  "Me too. I mean, I love you too." Well said dumbass, eloquent as ever.

  We kiss and we smile; I can feel his as I'm sure he can feel mine. My heart has restarted at an alarming pace and the usual butterflies feel more like a flock of small birds bouncing around in my stomach. Every sense is heightened. It's as if we're kissing again for the first time.

  Everything feels different. More serious. More intense. More eager. Saying I love you has never felt like this before. When I say it to family, it's easy. I know that no matter what, I always mean it and I'll never regret it. It’s the same with my friends. Saying it to Lincoln was scary, but hearing it was calming. Like an out-of-body experience.

  I got stoned in University once, and I remember that euphoric feeling where I felt like I was floating, my body tingled, I was so relaxed, like I didn't have a care in the world. All I wanted was to sit back, smile and eat chocolate. That's how I felt right now. Stoned. That is what this man does to me. He is a drug and I'm a junkie. I need him. I don't feel right if I don't have my daily fix. I'm obsessed. Constantly thinking about my next fix, itching to have it.

  Now that he's told me he loves me, I'm addicted. Dangerously in love.

  We break from kissing to catch our breath, both of us still smiling.

  "Do you mean it, Harbour? I mean, I don't want to sound like a little bitch, but I don't want you to feel like you have to say it because I did . . . I sound like a little bitch, don't it?"

  I giggle and climb into his lap. "Yes, I mean it. I've felt it for a while I just didn't want to sound like a crazy stalker by saying it too soon. And I wanted to make sure I wasn't alone in feeling it when I said it. Did you not see the signs? Jeez Louise, either you're blind or I'm a potential Oscar-winning actress."

  "Who's Louise?"

  Lincoln's face is completely serious, but I have to ask. "Are you serious?"

  He smirks at me and I playfully slap his chest.

  "Okay, now we have to celebrate. Where should we go to eat? Lady’s choice."

  I think for a moment before I respond. "Honestly? I'm craving Greek tonight, but in the near future I want to go to IHOP."

  "Are you serious? IHOP? I can take you to any restaurant in New York and you want me to take you to an IHOP?"

  "Don't be a snob! I want to try it." I pout and fold my arms like a child which I quickly realize is fitting, considering where I've asked him to take me.

  "And yes, I'm serious. I'm an Aussie. We don't have an IHOP Down Under."

  He uncrosses my arms and takes my hands in his, "Okay, I know an amazing Greek restaurant I can take you to tonight. With regards to your IHOP request, how about we make a deal? I'll take you for breakfast there one day next week if you promise not to use the words Down Under outside of the bedroom. It does things to me." He grins and then slowly grinds his pelvis into my thigh to show me the effect.

  I slide off his lap and sit next to him again.

  "You're no fun," he whispers against my lips before he kisses me chastely. Lincoln lowers the partition and informs the driver of our new destination.

  Five minutes later we arrive and, despite it being very busy, we are seated immediately. I'm instantly engulfed with familiar fragrances that remind me of my Yiayia's kitchen. Oregano, lemon and lamb scents fill the air. My stomach makes an angry noise, reminding me that if we're going to compete in bedroom Olympics every day I'll need to eat more. Sustenance is key.

  An older gentleman approaches our table. He has salt-and-pepper hair, a matching moustache and the build of a man who is well fed. He smiles brightly whilst shaking Lincoln's hand. "My boy, good to see you! It's been a few months." He has a slight Greek accent but a typical Greek tone, loud and commanding. I love him already; he reminds me of my uncle.

  "Yasou Ari, it's good to see you. How's Helen?"

  "She's great. We have a new granddaughter, so she's busy doing the usual Yiayia things; cooking, cleaning and interfering." Ari laughs with his whole body. It's contagious. "And who is this koukla you've brought with you?"

  I blush and smile shyly. It's not every day you get called a doll.

  "Ari, this is Harbour. My girlfriend. Harbour, this is Aristotle, owner and head chef of this fine establishment."

  I shake Ari's hand and he kisses my cheek. "Lincoln has never brought a women here other than his sister and mother. May I say, well done, Lincoln! When you finally bring one, you bring a real beauty."

  Now I'm blushing profusely. I need to change the subject. "Yasou Ari, it's lovely to meet you. I'm excited to try some of the delicious food I can smell."

  He tilts his head slightly and gives me a grin. "Ah, an Aussie! Milas elynika?"

  "Yes, my mother is Greek, so the pressure’s on. My Yiayia and Papou owned a Greek restaurant in Melbourne."

  Ari drags a chair over from the table behind and gets comfortable. "Yes, Melbourne has the second largest population of Greeks after Athens. Lincoln, I like her very much. Pretty, Greek, and she has a cute accent. My son would love you, Harbour."

  Lincoln clears his throat and shifts in his chair. "Yes, well, they are only a few of the reasons I love her." Ari stares at Lincoln like he's grown a second head and then smiles brightly. He stands, replaces the chair behind him and claps Lincoln's shoulder.

  "Hearing that makes me very happy, my boy. Let me get you two lovebirds some food. I'll join you later for a shot of ouzo to celebrate."

  He leaves us, and heads to the kitchen. A waiter brings over a bottle of wine but again, no menu.

  "No menu again?" I ask Lincoln as he tastes the wine.

  "Trust me, Ari knows what we want. He never disappoints, because he brings one of everything on the menu."

  "Perfect." I smile and taste the wine. It's familiar. "Did you choose the wine?"

  "No, Ari sent it over. Do you like?"

  "I love! I'm no wine connoisseur, but I think it's Australian. It tastes familiar."

  After checking with the waiter, I find I was in fact correct. Penfolds Grange. I nearly choke on my mouthful. I always wanted to try this but I could never justify spending $1000+ on something I would pee out later.

  The food is amazing and as dessert arrives, Lincoln tells me about his plans to donate the fancy car. "Habitat is having a fundraising event next Saturday and they will auction it off there. I got us both a seat. Are you happy to go?"

  I smile at him and fork some baklava into his mouth.

  "I'd love to accompany you, Mr. Whitmore." I watch as his mouth closes over the small fork and his pouty lips slide the sweet pastry off. I'm mesmerized as he licks the excess syrup off the corner, slowly, deliberately. I try to control my breathing and not show my desperation to jump over the table and lick it for him. He gives me a cheeky grin. He knows exactly what I want.

  "I wanna go, please. Like, now." Clearly, I failed miserably at hiding my desperation. I need him. This sexy man loves me and I want us to express that in ways that don't involve much talking. I've heard the words; now I need to see them in action. I need to feel them. In private.

  Lincoln laughs and pulls out his wallet to pay but Ari approaches with a tray holding a bottle of ouzo and three shot glasses. We're not going anywhere.

  Three shots down and lots of stories later, Ari finally lets us leave. After very friendly goodbyes and promises to return, Lincoln and I head out to the car.

  "One second, I forgot something. I'll be right back." Lincoln looks at me bemused but holds the door open for me as I reenter the restaurant. I head towards the kitchen, finding Ari and inviting him and his wife to Lincoln's thirtieth birthday party. Thankfully, Lincoln hasn't worked out what Jackie and I are planning so for now, our secre
t is safe.

  I head back outside and stop as I exit the restaurant. There he is, the man I love, leaning against the black town car, jacket off, arms folded. His tie has been loosened and his hand has run through his hair enough to give him a sexy, just-fucked appearance. I take a deep breath and make my way over to him. It takes every ounce of strength I have not to run and leap into his arms like they do in cheesy, romantic movies.

  Lincoln uncrosses his arms, making no move to enter the vehicle. He places his hands on my hips and pulls me closer to him. He gently rubs his nose against mine and places a tender kiss on my lips. My hands intertwine behind his neck and I kiss his cheek.

  "I love you, Lincoln," I whisper against his lips. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me as close as he possibly can. We stand there, hugging on the street. We hold each other tightly and in a low, almost desperate voice, he tells me he loves me too.

  He releases me and softly kisses me again, then opens the car door for me to enter.

  On the way to his apartment, Lincoln looks deep in

  thought. Our hands are linked and occasionally he tightens his grip and then loosens it, as if checking that I'm still there.

  "What's on your mind, Lincoln?" Normally I wouldn't ask, I would just leave him to his thoughts, but after our moment on the street I need to know.

  "Move in with me." It's not a question; more of a statement, like his mind is made up and he expects me to eagerly respond.

  He shifts in his seat to face me, his expression showing how serious he is.

  "Is this because I pretty much stay every night anyway? I can't, Lincoln. What if we hate each other's habits and get sick of seeing one another all day every day?"

  What if this ends and I'm without a home to go back to?

  "I want to wake up with you in my bed every day. I want to walk into my closet and see your clothes hanging in there. I even want your girly crap in my bathroom. I want to know you're coming home with me every night. I love you, and I want to spend every moment I can with you. Move in with me, Harbour."