by Harper James
“Then why are you acting like you do have ulterior motives?”
He was silent as he flicked the blinker on, turning down Orville road. “I offered this to you for a reason. I want to help you. You’re not the same girl I grew up with. The same girl I left behind.”
I couldn’t decide if I was flattered or hurt by his response. “What’s that mean?”
“You lost your mom. That changes people. I get that, I really do. But I miss the way your eyes used to light up. The way you used to crack those stupid popsicle stick jokes. The way your brother would bitch and moan the way he does, and you’d make faces at him behind his back.”
I found my lips curling upward, as I was warmed by the memories. Warmed by the thought of all those hot summer nights as I tagged along with Landon and Matt, pining for Landon without a word. Desperate for him to turn and look at me, even though he never did. Even though sometimes other girls would sit beside me in this car, and he’d drop me off at home and drive away with them, breaking my heart over and over.
We shared so many memories, even though I knew he viewed them through an entirely different lens.
“Do you remember when the three of us went to the ocean?” I asked, rolling down the window.
“Yeah. We barley had enough money for the hotel room, but you wanted an ocean view.” He grinned, thinking about it.
“After we checked in you went to the front desk and told them you were under the impression that our room would have a view. They moved us to one with a balcony overlooking the water. No extra charge.”
He chuckled under his breath. “I can be persuasive when I want to be.”
“I guess I should’ve seen then that nobody ever says no to you.”
“I’ve missed you,” he said, sliding a hand over my bare thigh. His hands were callused, like even though he was white collar, he’d never let go of his blue-collar beginnings.
“I missed you too,” I replied. “I thought of you so much while you were gone.” Just saying it made my eyes get a little glossy and I tried to remind myself not to cry. Crying was not what I wanted to be doing right then.
“We should just keep driving,” he said, his fingers curling back and forth, stroking along my skin. “Go find that hotel.”
“That place was a crap hole,” I said, laughing. “They probably have the same sheets.”
His grin was toothy this time, a glimpse of the Landon I knew before he went away, when his smiles came more easily. I wasn’t the only one who’d grown more serious in the years since we last saw each other.
We took a turn and wound upwards, onto the ridge overlooking Orting. We must’ve been in Puyallup, but it wasn’t until we took two more turns that I realized where were going.
“The theater?” I asked, hoping he couldn’t hear the surprised delight in my voice.
“It reopened a year ago,” he said, flicking a glance over at me, as if to register my reaction.
“I know,” I said. “I just didn’t think you knew.” The truth was, I hadn’t been back. Tried not to look at it each time I drove past, because it reminded me too much of him.
We pulled into the parking lot, and I tried to process how it looked the last time I was sitting in this car beside Landon. Tried not to think of how my heart had hammered out of control as he placed his hand over mine on the stick shift, trying to explain how to find first gear. How he’d kept urging me to ease into it and I couldn’t stop thinking of other things I wanted to ease into. Or onto.
“They only have two screens so it’s a romance or a drama.”
“Romance, obviously.” I grinned.
“So maybe you haven’t totally changed.”
My grin widened as I remembered forcing Landon and Matt through The Notebook. They’d groaned and whined but by the end they were totally on team Noah and Allie.
We walked to the door hand in hand, and at the window, Landon paid for both tickets. He bought popcorn and candy and sodas, and then we strolled through the double doors of the theater.
The place was empty, so we settled into a back seat. Landon wrapped his arm around me, pushing the armrest up from between us, so I could settle against his chest.
The opening credits rolled across the screen, as if the movie had waited for us to start.
“You didn’t tell me it was in French,” I whispered.
“It’s an independent theater,” he said, and without looking I could tell he was smiling. “Just be happy you picked the romance. The drama was in Dutch.”
I snickered. He let his hand fall down my arm, skimming along my skin so that I turned to look up at him. He tipped my chin back further, leaning down and brushing his lips against mine.
It was soft, tender, slow. It was more like a first kiss, as if we hadn’t done so much more over the last few days.
And yet it made my heart explode, made me think of a future with him where we did this more than once. Where he called me his girlfriend and took me on dates, showing me in public, rather than the two of us slinking around in the shadows.
We pulled apart, and then I leaned back against him, his arms holding me up against him.
I wanted to live in this moment forever.
9
Later that night, Landon led me into his house, one finger hooked around mine. Like we were halfway between holding hands and letting go.
Or maybe like it was a comfortable thing. Like he didn’t have to lay claim to me, but instead we’d fallen into a comfortable rhythm. Which was… terrifying. Because at the end of the day, there was nothing holding us together. I’d decided to get comfortable with him, to stop second-guessing how this would all go.
I wasn’t sure why I wanted so badly to trust this man. My brother had warned me away. My instincts had warned me away. I turned in the entry, following as we headed up the stairs to the master bedroom.
To his bedroom. The word master fit him too well. He was master of his world… master of me.
There was something different tonight, compared to the way he’d been in his office only hours before. He wasn’t in a rush, dragging me up the stairs.
But he wasn’t hesitant, either. He knew I’d follow him, and he walked with purpose, steadily leading me toward his room.
And yet even though I’ve had him, just hours earlier—even though I should’ve been satisfied--the need and want battled in my veins as we walk into his room. My mouth grew dry even as I could feel my panties grow damp. He was still only keeping his finger hooked around mine, and yet I was dying for him.
He turned to me, his hands sliding over my elbows so that he could back me up against his bed. My calves brushed the soft, luxurious textures of his bedding.
“Today, in my office,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “I fucked you hard and fast. Tonight, I’m going to take my time with you.”
I could do nothing more than nod, mute.
My breath disappeared from my lungs. He pushed me back, so that I fell against the bed. The blankets swelled up around me, so that I felt as if I’d fallen into a snow bank, but instead of cold, it was nothing but soft, burning heat.
His body pressed down against mine, as one hand slid up my body, his fingers curling around the back of my neck. “God you’re beautiful.”
Heat swelled inside, and I tried to steady my jagged breaths. Tried to slow down, the way he seemed to be, to enjoy the silk of his hands traveling my body, his softer kisses. It took so little to make me want him, to leave me begging for him to settle himself between my legs.
Yet I knew, tonight he would not rush this.
Tonight would be different.
“Did you think of me during the years I was gone?” His breath was hot and heavy, possessive. He wanted to hear how much I thought of him, of the two of us between the sheets, skin on skin.
I wanted to shove him away. Or deny it. But I was hot, panting, desperate for him.
“Yes,” I breathed. “All the time.”
And it wasn’t a lie. I’d thought of
him. Every time I’d touched myself, I’d pictured him, perched over me, fucking me harder with each grown. Every time I lay beneath someone else, I’d wanted it to be him. There’d been only a couple of men in time since he left. The first, because I thought someone else would get him out of my system, make me realize that all I really wanted was sex. It didn’t matter who it was on top of me.
But that had been a lie, because it only left me feeling empty and sad. Used. Because that man had gotten what he wanted, and I’d gotten nothing. I’d woken up that morning thinking of Landon and wishing it had been him beside me in the bed.
The second was hardly better. A drunken, messy hook up after a year of taking care of my own needs. The guy had tried hard—really hard—but it had been sweaty and awkward and unfulfilling.
Yet things with Landon were so different from those other men that it was like they’d been aliens. Aliens pretending to be men.
Landon was a real man. The only man, it seemed, who did anything for me.
He slid my skirt off with practiced ease, letting his fingertips trail over my hips and thighs, down to my toes. Instead of yanking my clothing off, he let his touch linger, let his heat build. The way his hands trailed my body was tender, intimate in a way our sex earlier today hadn’t been. Like he wanted to savor each touch. Like he wanted to memorize the curve of my body. His fingers touched the soft underside of my thighs as I parted for him, letting him settle against me.
He kissed me, his lips hot and wet, slow and sensual against mine. Our tongues slid across one another, wet with the heat of what was to come. I bit his lower lip, teasing it between my teeth, barely holding back from the desire to bite down hard.
He didn’t want tonight to be wild fucking.
Tonight, he was making love to me, worshiping my body in a way that required my restraint.
But God, it was hard to take it slow. To not bite his lip and yank his pants off, beg him to fuck me hard and fast.
I pulled him against me, my palms against his lower back, urging him to stop with the teasing and plunge inside me. But it was like he knew what I was after and enjoyed making me wait.
He pulled my shirt over my head, then lowered himself against me, so that our bodies were pressed together, so that I could feel the hard length of his cock grinding against my panties.
“You’re driving me insane,” I said, bucking my hips against him. Desperate for more contact.
In response, he pulled back, kneeling above me, propped up on his hands, too much space between our bodies. And then he just… stayed there, the picture of restraint, as I panted. Begging for him. “You’re beautiful,” he said, his gaze raking over me.
I reached out, my fingers raking across the elastic edge of his boxers. His lips curled upward. He loved that I wanted him so badly, that his patience was driving me to the brink.
And yet, he pushed my hand away, shaking his head. Denying me.
Instead, he waited at the edge of the bed, staring at me in such an intense way it nearly made me self-conscious. Like he wanted to drink his fill. He kept staring as he pushed his boxers down his hips, his cock springing to life. Kept staring as he took himself in his hand, slowly pumping up and down, his bottom lip sucked in as he teased it between his teeth.
I stayed that way, my knees open, my body exposed. And then he crawled over top of me, propping himself up on his elbows on either side of my shoulders. “I could come just looking at you,” he said, nudging my knees further apart with this.
He kissed me, slow and tender, his breathing jagged, the first clue that his restraint was not as easy as it looked. I slid my arms around his back, and his skin was hot to the touch, setting me on fire.
His lips were still on mine, his tongue sliding across my own as he plunged inside, painstakingly slow and easy. I was wet, ready for him, accepting his thickness.
Landon kept kissing me, slowly, deeply, his body picking up a rhythm my own body matched. My arms tightened around him, my fingers raking across his back.
And as he picked up an agonizingly slow, but steady pace, gritted my teeth to keep from crying out, my fingers twisting in the sheets.
“You feel so good,” he said, his voice more like a hot, tender whisper, the words hissing out between clenched teeth. It was like a fire was spreading in my veins, starting at the place he was pumping into me. In and out, in and out, the friction kept building, making stars dance in my vision, like white-hot pulses of light.
I’d wanted him to fuck me hard, to drive me to climax, but this was something else entirely. All I could feel was the place he was plunging in and out, the way my pulse kept building, higher and higher with each thrust, dancing closer and closer to climax.
He pressed me down into the mattress, bringing up one of his knees, forcing my legs to part further. Allowing him deeper access.
And then finally, when I couldn’t stand it anymore, he fucked me harder, his balls slapping against me, his grunts growing guttural, louder and louder.
His fingers wove into my hair, entwining with the strands as he leaned down against me, his mouth hot against my neck. He kissed and nipped on my throat, setting me aflame.
And I couldn’t get enough. But then suddenly he was there, pounding into me with all the force of a Mack truck. Each moment he pulled back and I grew desperate for him, he slammed back into me. The bed screeched under us, as if the force of our movement was too much.
With his left hand—the one not twisted into my hair—He reached around my hip, until he was cupping my ass, his fingers gripping me so tightly I thought he might leave a bruise. What I thought was fireworks exploded into something more as he kissed me again, his tender lips so at odds with how fast, how hard he was thrusting into me.
I groaned, bucking against him. I was spiraling upward, my pulse roaring ever louder in my ear.
“Do you like that?” he asked, his tongue tracing my lips as his dick plunged in and out, harder and harder with each passing moment. Now he was giving me everything I had thought I wanted and even more, driving me over the edge of what I could take.
The pleasure had become so intense as to be almost unbearable.
“Yes,” I said, on a whisper, barley able to breathe.
“What do you want?” he said, but it’s more of a command.
“Harder,” I replied, breathless. “Harder.”
He obliged, picking up the pace and slamming back into me, our skin slapping together. Faster and faster and faster, his dick plunging in and out, heat spiraling through me.
I reached up and grabbed my own breast, twisting it in my fingers, desperate for more. I played with my nipple, pinching it too hard between my fingers but unable to care. I was building, careening toward a cliff that I so desperately craved.
“You’re so tight,” he murmured. He let his right hand slide out of my hair so that he could push my hand off my breast, so that he could replace my fingers with this tongue, circling my nipple, teasing me. Biting at the place I’d been pinching.
He didn’t stop thrusting, and with this other hand, he let his own fingers play over my other nipple, twisting and pulling at it.
My breathing grew raspy. His body was hot and hard against me, and I reached down, cupping his firm ass in each hand, yanking him up against me. Wanting more… more… more.
The rhythm of his cock slamming into me made my breath come in short, ragged gasps, driving me closer and closer to the cliff I was heading towards.
“You’re going to make me cum,” I said, arching my back, straining for the right angle as he brought me to climax.
“Come for me,” he growled, his dick plunging deeper and deeper with each thrust.
I started to cry out as everything released and I went over the edge, falling, falling.
“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, as he fell with me.
10
Hours later, the dawn light crept into his bedroom. Unable to find my shirt, I pulled on one of Landon’s button-downs while he was in the shower. Alth
ough I was tempted to stay forever, maybe wait for an encore of last night, I needed to creep back home before my brother and dad caught on to the fact that I hadn’t returned. I was pushing it as it was, and they already hated that I’d chosen Landon’s internship over the one in Dallas.
Growing up, I’d loved how protective Matt had been when it came to me. I’d loved that when kids picked on me in the second grade, Matt was there to stand up for me. In high school, after I went to homecoming with a football player, and he’d bragged to all of his friends about sleeping with me—which wasn’t even true—Matt had been there. When the guy had showed up to school a few days later with a black eye, I didn’t have to ask him where he’d gotten it. I knew.
Just as I knew why Matt warned me away from Landon. My brother was just doing what he’d always done—looking out for his sister.
And I couldn’t blame him. Even I knew that Landon was bad news.
But something had shifted since yesterday. Landon wasn’t treating me like I was his flavor of the week. First he’d taken me on a real date, and then last night, when we’d slept together, it had felt different. More meaningful.
It would take Matt time to see that maybe, just maybe, he had pegged it wrong. Time to come around to the idea of Landon and I.
Together.
I headed downstairs, searching for my phone. Hoping that it hadn’t blown up with calls and texts after we’d fallen asleep.
I was halfway to the kitchen when the doorbell rang. I hesitated, glancing at the clock over the mantle. Who the hell would ring the doorbell before 7AM?
Dread hit me like a freight train.
It had to be Matt. He knew I was here, and he probably thought he could just retrieve me like some twelve-year-old kid sister. I headed down the hall, crossing over the intricate inlay in the hardwood surrounding the foyer, and yanked open Landon’s enormous front door.
Except it wasn’t Matt.
The woman standing on the front porch was stunning, with dark wavy hair that tumbled down her shoulders, curling gently at the ends. With olive skin and stunning green eyes, she looked like she came from the catwalks of Milan. Yet… I knew, too, that she came from money. Her Burberry jacket, simple silk skirt, and understated black heels screamed an elegance that didn’t need to be flashy.
