by Beth Andrews
“I remember that. It was a lot funnier at the time. And when it was your kid.”
“Of course.” Grinning, Maddie cocked a hip. “It was sure nice of Harper to drop everything to help you and Max.”
“I didn’t ask for her help.”
Maddie held up her hands. “Hey, no one said you did. Jeez, defensive much?”
“I can handle my own son. I can take care of him by myself.”
“No one doubts that. You’re a wonderful father. But you’re not alone in this. You never were. You couldn’t be, not with our family. You don’t have to take it all on your shoulders. It’s okay to ask for some help with the heavy lifting now and then.”
“I don’t remember you asking for help with Bree.”
“Are you nuts? I had her when I was seventeen. Seventeen. I needed more help than even I’d realized. Mom watched Bree so I could graduate high school and after, Bree and I lived with Mom and Dad for years before being able to afford a place of my own. They helped me. Believe me, they helped me tons. Plus, Neil’s parents—Gerry and Carl—pitched in, babysat when needed.”
“Harper calmed him down,” Eddie admitted, hating that it bothered him. Though hearing Maddie say she’d had help and had been grateful for it went a long way to easing his initial fury at letting Harper take over at his own house. “I couldn’t get through to him, couldn’t get my own son to listen to me, but he listened to her.”
“Yeah, that sucks. But he didn’t mean it. He adores you. You’re that kid’s hero. But it is interesting that Harper came to your rescue like that.”
“She’s Max’s teacher.”
“A pretty devoted one, to spend her Saturday afternoon with your tired, grumpy kid.”
Eddie shrugged because there was nothing else to say.
“Oh, boy,” Maddie breathed. “I can’t believe it. Leo was right. You’ve got a thing for her. I mean, I can believe you’ve got a thing for Harper. She’s pretty and seems nice. I just really can’t believe that bonehead was right. It’s like the end of the world as I know it.”
“I don’t have a thing for anyone,” he said, sounding like a middle schooler denying his crush on the teacher.
“Guess you’re not quite as bright as I took you for then.”
No shit.
He checked the time. He’d been gone well over an hour. Long enough for Max to have calmed down.
“I have to go.” He headed toward the door, ignoring Maddie’s muttered grouse about him being stubborn.
When he got home, he grabbed the grocery bags from the seat next to him. He’d picked up the makings for lasagna, Max’s favorite, along with another box of brownie mix since Max had liked making them before.
He went inside, set the bags on the kitchen table, then stepped into the living room only to slam to a stop as if someone had put up an invisible wall. Cassidy was still snoozing on the couch, her little mouth slack, her hair a tangle of blond fuzz. And on the oversized recliner Harper and Max were cuddled together, both fast asleep.
Max’s head rested against the side of Harper’s chest, her arm slung around his shoulders. Her head was back, her breathing deep and even, her lips parted slightly.
She stunned him. Made him want, and he didn’t like wanting. It was too dangerous. When you wanted something too much, it made you reckless. Foolish. And he couldn’t risk getting hurt again. Couldn’t risk his son getting hurt.
Cass stirred and Eddie crossed to the couch, pulled the blanket over the little girl. She rolled onto her side, kept sleeping.
He turned to find Harper watching him, her eyes sleepy, her cheeks flushed.
She smiled.
And he knew for her, he’d be reckless. Foolish. That she’d be worth it.
Lifting her arm, she gently freed herself, lowering Max’s head to the chair cushion. She covered him with the blanket he’d had since he was a baby, the one he still clung to when he was tired or sick, and gently brushed his hair from his forehead before straightening.
Eddie motioned for her to follow him into the kitchen. “You didn’t have to stay with him,” he said gruffly, his resentment clear.
She yawned. “Believe me, I wish someone would’ve helped me last week when Cassidy had a major tantrum because I wouldn’t let her watch Baby Einstein. She screamed so loud, I thought my ears were going to bleed. By the end of the night, we were both in tears and I was seriously considering locking her in her room while I ate a vat of ice cream. But somehow, we both persevered. And, I even shared the ice cream with her once she’d calmed down.”
There was that smile again, the one asking him to join in on the joke, on her happiness. He wanted to. He’d never considered himself unhappy before, had never really thought of it one way or the other, but now he wondered: When was the last time he was happy? Truly happy?
Sure, he was content. He had a job he enjoyed and was good at, a kid he’d do anything for and a family he loved.
But was he happy?
He didn’t want to dwell on it because he was afraid of what the answer to that would be.
He tugged on his ear. He felt like an idiot. Hell, he was an idiot for giving Harper a bad time, for getting pissed that she’d come to help him. For not telling her how much he appreciated what she’d done.
“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you for coming over. For staying.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, as if she was the grateful one, all because he’d put his thoughts into words for her.
“He was exhausted,” she continued, unloading the groceries onto the table, “which I’m guessing played a big part in his meltdown. Once he calmed down enough to stop being so angry and upset, he fell asleep.”
“He wasn’t the only one.”
“I only shut my eyes for a moment,” she said without a hint of embarrassment at being caught snoozing. “Cass usually naps for at least two hours on the weekends. Sometimes I take advantage of that time to get housework done or plan my lessons for the week. Sometimes I read a book or watch a movie. And sometimes I sleep. It all balances out in the end.” She held up a box of Max’s favorite cereal. “Which cupboard?”
“Pantry,” he said, unable to take his eyes off her, the curve of her hips, the roundness of her breasts.
He followed her into the walk-in pantry, unsure of his intentions—though by the tightening of his body, the anticipation building along his skin, he could guess. All he knew was that he had to be near her. Had to touch her. If only for a moment.
She set the cereal next to the other varieties, made sure it was neatly lined up on the shelf. He smiled at that attention to detail. Then slid the pocket door closed, encasing them in darkness.
He felt, rather than saw, her spin around. “What—”
He flipped on the overhead light. She frowned, looked from him to the door and then to him again, her message clear.
What do you think you’re doing?
She was about to find out.
The pantry was the size of a walk-in closet with shelves taking up the left and back walls. He edged forward. She retreated, her eyes wide. He continued toward her until her back pressed against the shelves. She held up her hands as if to stop him.
“Don’t,” he murmured, so close the tips of her breasts brushed against his chest as she inhaled sharply, close enough to see the tiny freckles dotting her nose. “Don’t stop me. Not yet.”
She searched his face then slowly lowered her hand, her breath washing over him on a shaky exhale.
Settling his hands on her waist, he leaned down and kissed her. Kept the kiss light. Patient. Brushed his mouth against hers again and again until she sighed, laid her hands on his shoulders like she’d done last night. And kissed him back.
He’d let her control their kiss last night and it had stretched his willpo
wer to the limit but he understood her hesitancy. Her fears. He could only imagine how she must have felt, kissing a man who wasn’t her husband. Unlike him, she hadn’t chosen to end her marriage, hadn’t wanted to be free from the person she’d vowed to love forever. If things had happened differently that day last November, if Beau Kavanagh had stopped at the convenience store five minutes earlier, he’d still be here. He’d be alive. He’d be with Harper.
Eddie wasn’t glad Beau’s life had been taken, that a good man had died too young, that Cassidy would never know her father. But he was glad that out of all the men Harper could’ve chosen, she was letting Eddie kiss her. Touch her.
He was glad she was with him.
He should tell her, but he’d never been good at finding the right words, had always struggled to make himself clear. He’d have to show her.
He slid his hands under her shirt, seeking her warm, soft skin. Rubbed his thumbs back and forth across the indentation of her waist, his fingers spread along her lower back. All the while he kissed her, again and again, longer, slower, deeper kisses until they were both breathing hard.
He couldn’t stop from edging closer, bringing their hips together, his erection pressed against her center. She gasped into his mouth, her body going rigid, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
Keeping his touch light, soothing, he trailed his mouth across her jaw, up her neck to her ear. “That’s what you do to me,” he breathed. “You turn me inside out, Harper.”
He went back to her mouth, that mouth he couldn’t get enough of, kept his kiss undemanding until she relaxed. She slid her hands up, linking them behind his neck, her fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of his nape.
Triumph roared through him and he kissed her harder, pressing her between the shelves and his body. He rolled his hips against her, reveled in the feel of her softness, the sound of her low moan. He moved his hands up her sides, his fingers skimming the underside of her breasts.
Shoving against his chest, she broke the kiss. “The kids...”
He took a half step back, moved his hands back to her waist. “They’re sleeping.”
She licked her lips, looked adorably mussed and well kissed. Dazed. Aroused. His ego swelled along with his body.
“What if they wake up?”
“If they do,” he whispered, “we’ll hear them.”
Because she didn’t seem convinced, because the last thing he wanted was to stop now, he tugged aside the collar of her shirt, kissed her collarbone, then rubbed his mouth up and down the long line of her neck. Her head fell back, bumping the shelf with a soft thud.
He straightened and lifted his finger to his lip in the universal shh sign. Then, holding her gaze, he dragged her shirt up, inch by inch, his knuckles brushing against the silky skin of her stomach.
When he revealed her ribs, she squeezed her elbows against her sides, stopping his progress. He leaned in close and spoke directly into her ear. “Trust me.”
* * *
TRUST ME.
Harper tried to swallow but her mouth was completely dry. Eddie watched her, his eyes hot with want. With desire.
For her.
Oh, dear.
She had no idea what to do, what to say. Those two simple words said in his deep, sexy voice had thrown her for a loop. His hands warm and sure on her skin, his thumbs rubbing light circles over the silky sides of her bra teased her. Tempted her.
Trust me.
Could she? Should she? Did it even matter when her body responded so heatedly, so wantonly? But even that was wrong, wasn’t it? She was in a pantry, for goodness’ sake, with her daughter and one of her students sleeping barely two rooms away.
Eddie leaned forward slowly—so slowly she could’ve evaded him at any time, could have easily stepped aside and walked away.
She didn’t move. He brushed his mouth over hers then settled it there for a drugging kiss. Her eyes drifted shut and she curled her fingers into his shirt, his chest solid beneath her hands. Trust me.
She wasn’t sure she did. But she wanted to. Or maybe she just wanted him. Too much to be rational and reasonable. Too much to feel guilty or worried. Too much.
His kiss grew hotter, hungrier and more insistent until she clung to him, her body molded to his, her hands roaming over his biceps and chest. He caressed her stomach, traced his nails up her rib cage, then slid those rough hands under her bra, cupping her breasts.
She exhaled, a cross between a shuddering breath and a sigh of pure pleasure. He kneaded her flesh gently, had her body warming, desire pooling low in her stomach and between her legs. Still kissing her, he pinched her nipples lightly then rolled the tight buds between his fingers. She squirmed, her breathing harsh and ragged. An ache built at her core, her panties grew damp.
Stabbing one hand into the hair at the nape of her neck, he held her head still while he took the kiss deeper. Wetter. Hotter. His other hand skimmed her stomach and she sucked in. She wasn’t skinny like his ex-wife. He was probably used to dating women with flat abs, toned bodies. Not a curved stomach and faint stretch marks marring her skin.
He broke the kiss, lifting his head, his eyes narrowed as he watched her, watched what he did to her when he touched her. She wished he’d kept the light off. She wasn’t even wearing a fancy bra and underwear. Had planned on staying home today.
He undid the button of her jeans, tugged the zipper down and she stiffened. It took all her willpower not to cross her arms over herself and shove him away. She was torn between doing what she knew was right, was safe and best for her, and what her body demanded from him. But she had no idea what he wanted.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Could she do it? Could she have sex in the man’s pantry while their children slept in the same house? Could she have sex with another man—quick, completely commitment-free sex—with someone who wasn’t her husband? Was she ready to take this step, ready to share her body with someone else?
“Stop,” Eddie said on barely a breath of a sound.
Her eyes flew open. “What?”
His lips tickled her ear as he spoke. “Stop thinking.”
And then his hand was between her legs, warm and sure and insistent. It felt good. So, so good. She bit her lip to hold back a whimper. He stroked her, kept that other hand on her hair, his grip just tight enough to have a bit of bite to it, a bit of excitement. Bending his head, he took one nipple in his mouth and sucked hard. Her back arched, her hips bucked violently, urging him on, silently begging him to go faster, to touch her harder.
Her body heated as pressure built but she held it back, shook her head as if that alone could stop it. She wasn’t sure why she fought it when she wanted it so badly, only that she had to, she couldn’t succumb to it fully, not if she wanted to keep her self-respect. Her heart safe.
But then he tugged her head back farther and gently bit down on her nipple. The world exploded into a million pieces. Her orgasm washed over her with wave after wave of intense pleasure that rocked her to her core, leaving her breathless and boneless and shuddering with the strength of her climax.
Finally her body came down, her breathing and pulse slowed. Eddie straightened and pulled her bra back into place, his expression hard. Fierce. He tugged her shirt down and then gently, almost reverently, combed his fingers through her hair.
Tears stung her eyes and she ducked her head so he couldn’t see, but she wondered if he sensed them because he backed up a step, then another. “I’ll check on the kids,” he said softly before slipping out and shutting the door behind him.
Harper slumped against the shelves, her hands shaking as she buttoned and zipped her jeans. She wanted to crawl next to the canned goods and hide out in here for, oh, the next few days if possible. But avoidance wasn’t an option. She did wait the few minutes it took to get her heart rate and breathing back to n
ormal before opening the door.
Eddie stood by the sink, held up a glass of water. “Kids are still sleeping.”
She accepted the water and drank deeply. Avoided his eyes but she couldn’t ignore what had happened, not when her body still tingled with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Not when the evidence of what they’d done—and what they hadn’t—was so visible behind the zipper of his jeans.
Lowering the glass, she inhaled deeply. “Why did you do that?”
She winced. That hadn’t been the exact question she’d meant to ask. She’d meant to ask if he was okay. To explain that, despite what had happened in the pantry—what she’d allowed to happen, what she’d thoroughly, obviously enjoyed—she wasn’t ready to sleep with him.
“I thought you might be thirsty.”
She frowned, shook her head. “No. Not that.” She licked her lips. Tipped her head toward the pantry—she’d never be able to look at canned goods the same way again. “That.”
He stepped closer. Lowered his voice. “Why did I touch you? Why did I kiss you? Why did I make you come?”
Hearing him say it, his words washing over her like a caress, had her body responding again. “Yes.”
“I find you very attractive. I enjoy touching you. Kissing you. I want you, Harper.”
Her heart soared but panic managed to find its way in and ground it again. “I’m not ready,” she blurted, setting the glass down with a soft clink. “For...sex.”
He nodded. “I know. I can wait.”
She glanced at the proof that he hadn’t been unaffected by their pantry encounter. “I’m sorry.”
“I think I’ll live.”
And that reminder that he would, that her husband hadn’t, almost knocked her to her knees. She locked them. It was just an expression, one people said every day, one she herself said. She’d only taken it that way because her feelings were messed up, her head spinning.
She tried to smile. “Good to know.”
“I’ll wait for you, Harper,” he said, all sexy and honest and intense. Then he kissed her, a long, lingering kiss.
