More Than Love You

by Shayla Black

  Then I’ve got nothing left to say. I cut off whatever argument Harlow might have by plunging deep inside her again, strokes insistent, heavy, and in no particular hurry. Her breathless wails vibrate under my skin, grip my balls. Her body writhes, her hips working with my rhythm, trying to suck me deeper. She’s sensual, responsive—like no woman I’ve ever touched. Holding out on her is so fucking tough, but if I can make her realize that we might be way more than a summer fling, it will be worth it.

  “Noah…” She reaches down with one of her hands to pinch her nipples, one after the other. “I need more.”

  “I know. You going to let me give it to you?”

  She catches her breath on a hard pant. A sob follows. But even with my fist in her hair, she manages a nod. “I can’t take it. Please…”

  Thank god, because I’m nearly at the end of my fucking rope.

  “You’re staying the whole night with me?”

  “I’m dying here,” she pleads with me for mercy.

  When it comes to finding out why I can’t get enough of this woman, I have none.

  “All you have to do is say yes, baby. I’ll let you fly. I’ll make you come so hard. One little word… Give it to me.”

  Harlow clenches her fists, her body heaving as she tries to breathe and process my demand and drink in the growing ecstasy. I don’t let up, I keep tunneling my way into her in long, strong strokes, igniting every pleasure point I can reach. I kiss my way up her back, then bite down on the sensitive spot between her shoulder and neck.

  “Yes!” she finally capitulates with a cry. “Please, god, yes!”

  That’s all I need to hear. I have a whole night with Harlow and I’m going to make the most of it.

  Finally, I unleash the pent-up passion I’ve been holding back. I sink in farther, harder, manipulating her nearly bursting clit, breathing against her skin as I exhale in long, harsh breaths. “Take me, goddamn it.”

  My own growl rings in my ears. I can’t remember ever needing a climax more. I’m dizzy. Harlow turns me inside out. But I can’t fall into the bliss alone.

  The water at my back is turning lukewarm, and I don’t give a shit. The only thing that matters is making this woman feel as if I’m going to be inside her forever. The way I feel right now, I would be so fucking happy to spend the rest of my days and nights right here, drowning in Harlow.

  Oh, god. Am I in love?

  Suddenly, she tightens, then grinds out a long, throaty cry as she clamps and bucks and gyrates her hips with me. She milks me. She takes my breath away. She robs my fucking soul.

  I’m almost sure I’ll never be complete without her.

  That’s my last thought as I spill inside her with a growling wail, gushing into her with all my might and losing myself in the process.

  As I finally catch my breath, I slide my hands down her curves, worshipping her with soft, reverent strokes. “You okay, baby?”

  No answer, just her back rising and falling with deep, heaving breaths.

  “Harlow?” I ease from her body gently and cup her shoulders, turning her to face me.

  Unmistakable tears run down her cheeks. She looks so fucking angry I almost step back. Almost… But if she’s mad that I’ve made her feel something, I’m the only one who can soothe her.

  “Don’t do this to me!” She jerks out of my grip and steps back, reaching for the handle to the shower door.

  If I let her get away now, she’s going to toss up more walls between us. She won’t allow herself to be vulnerable with me again soon—if ever.

  “I’m not doing anything to you except showing you that you matter to me, damn it.” I shut off the water that’s gone cold, then take her arms in my grip. “You want to cry? I’ve got two shoulders and a chest to lean on. I’ve got two arms to hold you. I’ve got two ears to listen. And a heart that’s open to you. All I’m asking is for you to open yours in return. Just a little, baby… Just try.”

  Before me, her face crumbles as if she’s fought the good fight and just can’t do it anymore. She dips her head to hide her face. Her shoulders fall in massive sobs. “No.”

  “Yes,” I insist in soft tones and bring her against my body again.

  “If I rip off all the Band-Aids just to make you happy, I’ll fall apart.”

  “How do you know I won’t put you back together, Harlow?”

  She doesn’t have an answer and when I step closer, slowly bringing her body against me and enfolding her in my arms, she crumples onto me, giving me her weakness. I give her back my strength. I don’t know exactly what demons haunt her, but I’m beginning to suspect they’re darker than anyone’s imagined. I’m in too deep now to get out.

  Not that it matters; I don’t want out when everything in my soul tells me this woman belongs to me and I’ll have to be the one to heal her and make her whole.

  After long minutes, Harlow’s tears taper off. She’s limp and spent as I dry her body off, haphazardly put her wet hair into an elastic band, and tuck her into her bed beside me. She drops off in moments. Unlike the last time I crawled into bed beside her, she clings to me, wraps herself around me, and falls into sleep peacefully.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Two days later, Friday afternoon rolls around. I hate to leave Harlow when she’s vulnerable. Since our lovemaking in the shower, she’s been quiet, almost thoughtful. I slept beside her that night. I woke her up twice so I could be inside her again. She allowed me deep, clinging to me almost gratefully. I thought we’d turned a corner.

  But when I woke at six the next morning, she was already in the gym, climbing the Stairmaster like it could take her far from me. All day—and all night—she gave me a wide berth. I let her…maybe more than I should have. I can’t pressure her more or upset her too much. She has to decide on her own. And it seems as if she is. But boarding a flight to Honolulu this morning was damn hard. Will she be waiting for me when I get back? Or will she have disregarded our summer-long contract, cleaned out her stuff, and left?

  I have no assurances and no way of knowing. But I can’t force her to fall in love with me, simple as that.

  Since I had a previous engagement, I flew to Oahu. Weeks ago, the high school I’d once attended and where I still hold most of the quarterback records asked me if I’d come lay some motivation on the kids just before finals and graduation. I owe that school for teaching me, for feeding me when my parents didn’t always have the money, and for helping to shape me into the man I am today. Despite my worries, I said yes and hope I can keep myself together.

  The visit is a surprise. No one knows I’m coming, and when I jog out to the middle of the gym floor, the kids all scream and shout. I say a few words I’ve rehearsed about determination, being true to yourself, and always doing your best, then we sing the school song together. I still remember it. Finally, I sign a few footballs for kids who play on the current squad and let girls half my age practice their flirting as I answer their pretend questions about pro sports and life’s tough decisions. Then with a smile and a wave, I head back to the airport in Honolulu. I’ve got a plane to catch back to Maui. Back to Harlow.

  I hope.

  It’s been a great afternoon, and I love being near my roots again so I can give back to my community. In fact, I left the school’s athletic fund a nice donation before I departed. It feels good to be able to give back.

  A couple of hours later, I’m savoring the high as I’m strolling through the airport, ball cap pulled low. Most people don’t notice me. Tourists are heading back to the mainland. Businessmen are dashing to flights bound for Tokyo or San Francisco. No one is paying me much mind as I loiter in a seat in the corner at the gate.

  Until a guy in his mid-twenties sits in the uncomfortable vinyl chair beside me. “Mr. Weston?”

  I really don’t want to draw attention to myself, much less a crowd. It’s happened before. I was hoping that part of my life was over, damn it. “Yeah. Hey, I’m just catching a flight home and—”

  “I’m not
approaching you as a fan.”

  Despite being tall and broad, he’s dressed in an impeccable suit, so I wonder if he’s got some business opportunity in mind, maybe sports-related. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested.”

  “I don’t want anything from you except information about Harlow Reed.”

  That snaps me to attention and whips up my protective instincts. “She’s not up for discussion. Are you a reporter?”

  “No. But according to the press, you’re…together. I just want to meet her. Talk to her. Please.”

  This guy thinks I’m going to introduce him to my girl? No fucking way.

  I hop to my feet. “This conversation is over.”

  “Wait. I don’t think you understand.”

  Oh, I get it, all right. Waving a dismissive hand, I keep walking.

  He follows. “I think she’s my sister.”

  That stops me dead in my tracks. I snap my stare in his direction, scowling. “What?”

  “My name is Evan Cook. My mother was Barclay Reed’s secretary for three years. She died when I was five, but from everything I’ve gathered, they had an affair and that man is my biological father. Harlow and I were born three days apart.” He clenches his jaw, looking as if he’s trying to keep himself together. “I have no other family and…I just want the chance to know her.”

  I’d call bullshit…except he seems utterly serious. And when I look for some family resemblance to validate his claim, I can’t deny that his eyes are the same green as Harlow’s.

  Oh, shit.

  “Have you tried to contact her in the past?” I don’t want to talk to this guy anymore if she’s already slammed the door in his face.

  “No. I only decided to get in touch with her about two weeks ago. But she’s been impossible to find. Reclusive. Then I saw the news about the two of you. Social media said you’d had an appearance in Honolulu today, so I thought I’d try to talk to you first. I even bought a ticket to Maui in the hopes that she would see me…and you would help me break the news to her. I couldn’t get a seat on this flight, but I’ll be on the one after, that arrives late tonight.”

  Oh, fuck. How will Harlow feel about potentially meeting the product of her father’s infidelity? Does she even know she may have another brother in the world?

  As I sit again and he sinks down beside me, I’m torn.

  “What about Maxon and Griff?”

  “Who?” He looks confused. “I don’t know them. My mom’s journal mentioned my half sister. She wrote that Barclay’s wife, Linda, was expecting a girl at the same time and that they’d eventually named her Harlow. If he had other family, I’m not aware.”

  “Have you tried to talk to your biological father?”

  “Does he sound like anything other than an asshat to you? He knew my mother was pregnant. She said he was there the night I was born. But where was he after my mother was shot in a store robbery and I became a ward of the state of California? Child Protective Services contacted him and asked if he wanted to exercise his parental rights. He declined. If he didn’t care then, I don’t care now.”

  From the little bit I know about Harlow’s father, I’m not surprised. I don’t mention her older brothers again in case this guy is a crackpot. But if he’s legit…will Evan come as a surprise to Maxon and Griff?

  “All I’m asking is if you’ll talk to her, find out if she would be willing to see me. I’ll arrive about three hours after you. Here’s my number.” He hands me a business card. “I’m thinking of moving my home and the base operations of my firm to Hawaii, so I’ll be here for at least a few weeks. I’d really like the chance to meet her. I won’t take up more of your time.”

  With that, he stands and walks away, leaving me to wonder what I’ll tell Harlow when she’s already raw and shell-shocked…and how she’ll react.

  Night has fallen by the time I pull up to my driveway. I peer at the huge house, trying to see whether Harlow is still here. From this angle, the place is dark. My heart pounds furiously. What will I do if she’s gone? Call Maxon and Griff and insist they let me see her? Maybe. Probably. I can’t let her give in to her fear and lick her wounds in private.

  I can’t give up on her. I’ve never had quit in me and I’m not about to start now.

  Instead of hitting up the front door, I walk around to the patio and see Harlow perched on the sofa, playing her video game. My relief at locking eyes on her petite form still under my roof is palpable. I let out a pent-up breath.

  Doing my best to seem casual, I stroll in through the open accordion doors and drop a kiss on her head. “Hi, baby.”

  She pauses her game and stands to face me. But she makes no move to touch me. “Hi. How was everything?”

  “The high school visit was good. The ‘after’ part, we’ll talk about in a bit. Did you eat dinner?”

  “Yeah. I grilled some chicken and tossed together a fruit salad. I put leftovers in the fridge.”

  “Thanks.”

  I’ll get to it eventually. Right now, I have no idea how I’m going to break this news to Harlow. I’ve wrestled with the decision to tell her and realized that Evan may want my help in breaking this to her, but he’s not going to let me stop him. If I say no, he’ll simply go around me—and maybe give her an unexpected shock she’s not ready to handle.

  She nods my way. “It’s…um, been quiet all day. I just had a few phone calls with some colleagues about your next assessment. Tomorrow good? I want to nail down as much as possible before I decide on a course of therapy.”

  “Sure.” I let out a breath. “Can I have a hug?”

  Harlow fidgets, then nods. We meet halfway, and I wrap her in my arms. She’s a little stiff but not resistant. I can’t help myself from brushing a kiss across her lips, settling against her mouth for a heartbeat to feel her, before pulling back just enough to study her face.

  “What’s up?” She frowns.

  I should realize she’s getting good at reading me, too. “I need to talk to you. Why don’t we sit?”

  “If it’s about the other night, I don’t have anything to say. I’m still…processing.”

  I didn’t expect her to profess her undying love. But at least she’s not telling me to fuck off. I’m nervous that once I spring Evan on her she’ll forget that she shouldn’t shoot the messenger. But I can’t control that. I have to do what’s best for her.

  I get dizzy and start to sweat. I recognize the symptoms. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. I can’t freeze up now.

  I rush to get the words out. “I met a guy in the airport says he’s your father’s son by one of his secretaries. The name Evan ring a bell?”

  Harlow steps back and blinks in shock. Yeah, that did not come out smoothly. So much for breaking it to her gently. Damn it.

  “What?”

  Words start racing through my brain again, but it’s as if someone stuck a cog in the spokes of the wheel that churn my thoughts from my brain to my mouth. I press my lips together mutely. Goddamn it. Of all the times to lose my ability to speak…

  Harlow seems to understand and takes my hands. “It’s all right. Breathe in and out. I’m not mad. I’m not even all that surprised. One of the reasons my parents are divorcing has to do with my dad’s wandering penis. Obviously, my mom has no trouble with him sleeping around, since she told me to get over myself when I split with Simon. But during one of their fights a couple of months ago, all the ugly crap about my dad knocking up his current secretary came out. Mom is pissed about that. My dad seems proud and thrilled. My mother called it repugnant and unseemly. She asked what their country club friends would think if they knew. He said that if Amanda, his twenty-five-year-old assistant, had his son, everyone would think he’s still the man.”

  He sounds like an absolutely assholic son of a bitch. My dad would never have dishonored my mother that way, especially with someone young enough to be his daughter. And if he had fathered children on other women, Trace and I would have been shocked and angered. Harlow merely shr
ugs cynically. My heart breaks for her.

  “So…what does Evan want?” she asks. “Money?”

  I shake my head and try to make my jaw work. I feel my thoughts steady. The dizzy, hot-clammy feeling recedes. When I squeeze her hand, it’s better. “To meet you.”

  “Seriously?” She frowns skeptically. “To quote Wayne’s World—a really underrated movie, in my opinion—‘Yeah, and monkeys will fly out of my butt.’”

  There’s no way not to laugh at that.

  “Hey, that’s enough of that.” Harlow wags her finger at me. “No making fun of my cinematic choices.”

  “I don’t think Wayne’s World is underrated,” I manage to say and the words sound almost right. “I prefer a more highbrow comedy, like Dodgeball.”

  Harlow laughs at me. “Oh, that’s a socially important film, for sure.”

  “Um, hello. ESPN Eight, ‘the Ocho.’” I wink her way, then turn serious. “The truth is, I think Evan really wants to meet you. He says he has no other family. I wonder if he wants you to be part of his.” I hand the man’s card to her. “He’ll be in Maui in a couple of hours. This is up to you, of course. But he said he’d love it if you’d call.”

  She glances at the card before setting it on the coffee table. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that my dad has another illegitimate child besides the one on its way. If you have a lot of sex with women who aren’t your wife, it’s bound to happen. I wonder if my mother knows. Or cares.” She sighs. “I wonder how Maxon and Griff will take the news.”

  “Evan didn’t know anything about them, only you. So if you decide to meet with him, your brothers will be a surprise to him as well.”

  She nods and pulls her phone from her pocket. “I need to call them. Will you give me a minute?”

  I’d rather hold her hand and give her the support she needs, but Harlow isn’t ready. As bitter as that is, I can’t barge my way into her family business. “Sure. I’ll head upstairs to change and be back in a bit. Let me know if you need anything.”

  I take a long minute picking out a comfortable pair of shorts and a loose tank. I rinse off with a quick shower, trying not to focus on the last time I wasn’t in here alone. It’s been three days since I made love to her—and I made her acknowledge me. She said she’s still processing, and I don’t know what that means. But letting frustration get the best of me isn’t going to help.