More Than Love You

by Shayla Black

  I’m not going to last. Jesus, it’s been too long and she feels too good. When her nails dig into my back and her channel clamps down on me, I know she won’t last, either. I’m praising any higher power listening as I plow into her, hips shaking, bed rocking, sweat pouring, swift and single-minded.

  Under me, she breaks suddenly, jerking and howling out in a feminine growl of pleasure. I follow her seconds later, emptying every bit of my energy, soul, and semen inside her with a shout that makes my throat raw and my heart stutter.

  After the sweltering bliss of release, I fall on top of Harlow with a sigh. She lifts limp arms around my neck. God, she’s everything I didn’t know I was looking for—sweet yet sarcastic, selfless yet standoffish. She will both keep me on my toes and make my life interesting. The last few years had seemed gray, shallow, lacking. I assumed it was the grind of football or knowing that retirement was on the horizon. But nothing changed inside me until I met Harlow. She’s the sassy ray of sunshine I’ve needed.

  Her lashes flutter open and she gives me a glittering green stare. “I think we should do this every night before the wedding and even more often afterward.”

  Yeah, maybe it’s just about getting pregnant…but that’s not what her eyes tell me. Something soft shines from her face. It’s more than adoring. I’m thinking—hoping—maybe she’s well on her way to being in love with me, too.

  “You got it,” I promise, hoping she doesn’t change her mind.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  After a damn busy day, I’m feeling worn out but surprisingly accomplished. This morning, we stopped by my mother’s place to tell her we’re getting married. She beamed and hugged us both, oohing and aahing over the engagement ring. Then she nearly choked when we told her we plan to tie the knot in two weeks. Thankfully, she recently helped my sister organize her wedding and volunteered to do the same with Harlow. They’re planning to get together tomorrow to launch into the details.

  Both my mom and my fiancée—it’s oddly thrilling to call her that—were ear-to-ear smiles. It did my heart good to see them together, looking excited as they discussed the ceremony that will begin the rest of my life with Harlow.

  Then I called Trace and left a message for him. He’s been scuba diving for the last six days with his buddies in some far-flung place in the South Pacific and probably won’t have cell service until Wednesday, when he gets home. But he knows to call me once he reaches civilization again.

  Then I dropped Harlow off at a bridal shop so she could scout out the wedding dresses. She refuses to wear the monstrosity her mother picked for her wedding to Simon, which is fine by me. While I waited, I walked the beach, cap pulled low. An hour later, she left the store grumbling that she didn’t have six months to order a dress and nothing off the rack works for a short girl. She wants everything to be perfect on her wedding day. I’m taking that as a good sign. She didn’t plan much of the aborted ceremony, but she wants to be in charge of this one. If our marriage was merely an exchange of a temporary wife for a baby, she wouldn’t care half so much. I promise her my mom will have some ideas about the dress situation, and if worse comes to worst, my Aunt Lahela is one hell of a seamstress.

  Once we arrived home, we intended to hit the gym downstairs and work out, but as soon as she appears in a small pair of black spandex shorts and some bra thing that’s stretchy and tight across her breasts while leaving her midriff bare…iron isn’t what I want to pump. We end up naked, entwined, shouting out our pleasure on the rubber floor.

  Will today be the day Harlow conceives? That possibility excites the hell out of me.

  “We should do that again. I want you to be convinced I’m giving you my full”—I slide out and thrust back in—“effort.”

  She pants out something between a moan and a laugh at my teasing. “I almost believe you. But maybe we should do it one more time so you can really persuade me…oh. Yeah. Just like that.”

  I thrust deep once more and Harlow’s sentence melts into a moan. As we rock and grind, she clings to me, yet it feels as if she has fewer walls between us. Sex is one place we’ve always been in sync, and today we’re even more together than yesterday.

  Afterward, we realize we’re running way behind if we’re going to host her family for dessert at eight. But a quick shower becomes a quickie in the shower instead. I’m dressed and hauling ass downstairs as Harlow fiddles with a round brush and a blow dryer. The doorbell rings.

  I open it to find Maxon and Keeley wearing big smiles and carrying a bottle of sparkling white grape juice and a carrot-pineapple bread with icing. Britta and Griff are right behind them with a passionfruit tea she recently discovered and chocolate Chantilly cake. After hugs all around, we set up in the family room. With everything they brought and the banana bread pudding Harlow made early this morning, I’m likely to end the evening in a sugar coma. I’m okay with that.

  Before we cut into anything, Harlow runs back upstairs and returns clutching two large bags, then hands one to each of her sisters-in-law.

  “What’s this?” Keeley asks with delight.

  “Just a little something to say congratulations.” Harlow smiles.

  She’s fond of her sisters-in-law, and I see the gracious woman I’ve come to know, not the sad one who’s envious and torn and defeated. Harlow is kind and thinks of others. Sure, she’s human. I understood her hurt last night. I’m glad to see her on an even keel today. I’m even more relieved she hasn’t changed her mind about the wedding or the baby. I hope some of that—whether that’s her resolution or just me—is making her happy.

  “You didn’t have to get us—” Britta gasps. “Wait! Are you… Are you wearing an engagement ring on your finger?”

  Harlow glances my way, and I grin at the crowd. “As a matter of fact, she is. I asked and she said yes.”

  Both Keeley and Britta jump to their feet, gifts forgotten as they share the joy of Harlow’s good news with hugs. Maxon and Griff both shake my hand.

  “You sure you want to do this?” Maxon teases. “My sister isn’t easy to handle.”

  “She’s not. But she keeps life interesting.”

  Griff shakes his head. “Said no man who wanted to stay sane ever.”

  I laugh and they welcome me into the family with a hearty backslap before turning to embrace Harlow.

  “Congrats, little sister,” Griff says with all sincerity.

  “Thanks. I’ll consider myself smarter than you since it didn’t take me years to figure out that I should marry him.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t almost walk down the aisle with the wrong person, sister dear. That was one hell of a wedding…”

  “Yeah,” Maxon agrees. “I love YouTube. I can see Simon’s oh-shit face over and over. The moment he realizes he’s completely screwed and publicly humiliated is particularly sweet.”

  “You never liked him.” Harlow rolls her eyes.

  “Nope,” her older brother confirms. “Wanted to punch his boring, average face when we met because he wasn’t there for you.”

  Griff nods in agreement. “Douche extraordinaire.”

  “Not to mention Dad’s lap dog.” Maxon grimaces. “You didn’t need that.”

  I’m guessing they don’t feel that way about me or they would be sporting more scowls than smiles.

  “I’ll do my best to make your sister happy,” I promise as I slide my arm around her and pull her close.

  “But you could help,” Harlow insists, then slants a glance at me. “Noah and I haven’t had time to talk about anything except a wedding date but…Maxon, I hope you and Keeley would let us have the ceremony at your place, on the beach where you and Griff both tied the knot. Is that okay?”

  She seems to be asking me as much as she’s asking her brother and his wife. They’re enthusiastic, and I’m good with whatever she wants and whatever makes her happy.

  “Absolutely,” Keeley answers for them. “We’d love to host your wedding there. Maybe we’ll make getting married on our lawn a
new Reed family tradition.”

  Harlow laughs, then turns to me. “What do you say?”

  “Sure, baby. I don’t care so much where we get married as long as we do.”

  “Then it’s settled. Thanks.” She curls up against my side, flings her arms around me, and turns her face up for a kiss.

  I can’t remember another time she’s invited my affection. She’s never shy about initiating sex, and I’m down with that. But I’m always the one to give her a hug or a kiss that has nothing to do with getting busy. Sure, this might be for show, but her expression glows sincere.

  I kiss her with a lingering brush. “You’re welcome.”

  Before I can kiss her again, the other women hustle her to one side of the room and launch into wedding plans. Keeley and Britta both volunteer to help. Her brothers suggest the officiant they used. Texts start flying. Next thing I know, we have a florist to meet on Tuesday afternoon and a photographer who does stunning work booked. Thankfully, he had a cancellation and could slot us in. As we’re discussing Britta’s mother doing the catering with the help of a rented staff she’s used for other events at Maxon and Keeley’s resort, the doorbell rings.

  Evan.

  Celebrations have been dominating the conversation, but the sudden silence reminds us all why we’re gathered.

  Harlow stands and lets out a nervous breath. “I’ll answer the door.”

  “I’ll get it,” I insist. “My face is the only one familiar to him.”

  Everyone nods collectively, acknowledging my point, so I head to the entryway and yank open the door to find Evan standing at the threshold. “Hey. Come in.”

  He gives me a curt nod, looking nervous, dressed in a sharp gray suit and perfectly polished wingtips. “Thank you for inviting me. Quite a place you have here.”

  I shrug. “Pro football paid well.”

  He doesn’t say anything more, so I pull the door open wider. He turns and his stare falls on the gathering. Everyone is standing. Maxon and Griff come forward, hands outstretched, and introduce themselves.

  “Happy to meet you in person,” Evan murmurs.

  Harlow hovers nervously behind them. “Hi. I guess…I’m your sister.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Harlow. I wish it was under less awkward circumstances.”

  She nods. “It’s pretty weird to wake up one day and find out I have an adult sibling I never knew about.”

  He sends her a faintly apologetic smile. “I grew up knowing about you, but my mother’s journals never mentioned Maxon or Griff. I don’t know if she was in the dark or simply didn’t have anything to say about them…”

  “Well, we all have some catching up to do,” Harlow says. “Come in. Sit. Do you want coffee, tea, or sparkling juice? How about dessert?”

  “Coffee, please. Black. Nothing sweet, thank you.” He takes in the gift bags and the cake. “Are you celebrating an occasion?”

  Maxon and Griff exchange a glance before the younger brother nods proudly. “Our wives both recently learned they’re expecting. This is Britta.” After they shake hands, he turns to bring the redhead closer. “And this is Maxon’s wife, Keeley.”

  “She’s our resident songbird,” Harlow puts in.

  “Or karaoke addict. I’ll own up to either one,” she says with a self-deprecating grin.

  Evan gives the ladies a stiff nod. “Congratulations.”

  “We’re also celebrating the fact that Harlow and I got engaged last night.”

  “That’s good news, Mr. Weston, Harlow.”

  “Noah,” I correct. “No formality here.”

  “Noah, then. I can see why you’re celebrating,” he intones. “I hope you’ll be happy together.”

  The words come out, but he looks bleak as hell.

  “We’d love to have you come to our wedding,” Harlow ventures. “If you’re free.”

  I’m proud of her for opening up and including Evan, giving the brother she doesn’t know a chance.

  “Absolutely,” I second and take her hand in mine. “We’d love to have you. We’re doing this quickly, on June tenth.”

  “I’m available. I’ll be there. Thank you.” He relaxes in his seat, looking pleasantly surprised.

  “And feel free to bring a date,” Harlow adds. “If there’s someone special, we’d love to meet her.”

  He sits up straight, his spine becoming a steel rod as his face closes up. “My wife and our unborn child died a month ago in a car accident.”

  The air leaves my lungs the same way it leaves the entire room. No one says a word, and I’m sure they’re all as speechless as I am.

  “Oh, god. I’m so sorry.” Harlow finally breaks the silence as she races to Evan’s side and enfolds him in a hug.

  Her compassion warms me almost as much as her kind heart.

  Evan’s arms circle around her stiffly, as if he isn’t used to comfort. As if he’s allowing her embrace not because he wants it but because he doesn’t want to risk hurting her feelings. He looks at me as if to ask if the hug meets with my approval. I nod, and something about the entire exchange pangs me in the chest. Jesus, what has this man been through? His dead eyes say that, in the blink of an eyes, his life has become pure hell.

  Keeley and Britta are right behind Harlow, sighing and offering their condolences.

  Maxon frowns. “I’m so sorry.”

  “We had no idea.” I see the sheen of tears in Keeley’s eyes. “I can’t imagine—”

  “You don’t want to,” Evan cuts in. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve left Seattle suddenly and decided to put down roots in Hawaii. The truth is, my late wife encouraged me to meet you, Harlow, since we started dating at fifteen. I put it off. I didn’t want to be the illegitimate kid who destroyed your fairy-tale family.”

  Maxon and Griff both scoff.

  Harlow shakes her head. “Oh, no issue with that. Barclay Reed is a terrible human being and a worse father. You were better off, trust me.”

  He pauses, considering. “And I didn’t want you to pity me for being the poor, orphaned bastard.”

  This man doesn’t want anyone to feel sorry for him, ever—even in loss. He still seems uncomfortable with the ladies hovering near his personal space and offering their sympathy. I wonder how he’s been coping with his grief over the last month. Does he have an outlet?

  “We feel sorry for what you’ve gone through, but pity is in short supply in this family,” Harlow says matter-of-factly. “We’ve all been through shit.”

  “Some that would make your blood curdle,” Griff cut in.

  Evan nods in acknowledgement. “I saw the YouTube video of your wedding, Harlow. I’m sorry your former fiancé lacked morals and integrity. You seem too nice for him.”

  “She is,” Keeley assures.

  “I’m better off without the ex,” Harlow assures with a toss of her hand. “And much happier with the new model. My—our—father chose the last one, but I picked Noah.”

  Her possessive words warm me, and I press a kiss to her temple.

  Britta lays a hand on Evan’s arm. He freezes up, then visibly forces himself to relax.

  “How can we help you?” Griff’s soft-spoken wife asks. “Is there anything we can do to make your move or your first days on the island better?”

  “Do you have a place to stay?” I ask.

  “Thank you. I’m fine,” he tells us. “My assistant, Nia, is coordinating the details of having my things shipped over. For now, I’m in a hotel. I’ll find a place eventually.”

  “What are you looking for?” Maxon asks. “Griff and I are Realtors, so if you want to buy, we’re happy to help.”

  The other guys fall into a conversation about areas around the island and debate the pros and cons of condo versus house, while the women start their own conversation about weddings and babies, punctuated by Keeley and Britta opening their gifts from Harlow—pretty pink boxes with a decorative water bottle, an anti-nausea wristband, energizing bath bombs, and a journal to c
apture the journey of their pregnancy.

  After hugs among the ladies and some very practical talk about island housing, Evan stands. “Thank you for including me in the evening…and making me feel welcome.”

  The Reed siblings all get to their feet. Maxon sticks out his hand. “You’re not alone. Come visit any of us at any time.”

  Keeley nods and gives him a business card with the details about their bed-and-breakfast. “If you need an ear or a song or a homemade cookie, stop by. There’s always someone there.”

  “Britta and I would love to have you for dinner some night so you can meet your nephew. Jamie is nearly three.”

  “And he’s all boy!” Britta teases. “Really, please come over.”

  “We’re also looking forward to having you at our wedding,” Harlow adds. “I’ll text you the details. We’re getting married too quickly for invitations, so that will be the ‘formal’ invite.”

  Evan takes a deep breath, looking overwhelmed but more at peace. “Thank you. Becca was right. I should have gone out of my way to meet you all sooner. I appreciate all your kindness and hospitality. I know it’s odd to suddenly incorporate me into your family…but I’d like that very much.”

  With those words and a reserved nod, he departs, leaving us all in somber silence.

  After the family heads home, Harlow is unusually quiet. She doesn’t argue or twist away when I enfold her into my arms and pull her to bed with me. Though there’s no one else in the house—or within a mile radius—she whispers to me. How sad she feels for Evan, how angry she is for thinking of herself while her brothers and their wives shared their baby news. Then she confesses how directionless she was feeling until she met me. From her, that’s high praise, almost as if she’s admitting that she needs me. I listen, murmuring my sympathy for all her half brother has lost and assuring her that she’s being too hard on herself. Her feelings are real, and it’s better to admit them and deal than to shove them down as if they never existed. Makuahine taught me that—or tried. The knowledge usually serves me well.