“Damn it,” he said under his breath as his hand lost the battle and came up under her hair.
No. She should be mad. He was playing with her. He was such—but God, he was him. He was Jake. He was the only one she truly let go with. Before she knew better. Now, she needed to walk away, where his smell didn’t surround her, where her senses couldn’t cave and her hands couldn’t pull him closer. Somewhere black and white and crisp and clear and not fogged up with Jake-ness. Something was trying to reach her though. Words that were buzzing around the edges of reality, banging on windows.
The only time in my life I ever felt something real.
“Wait, what?” Letting go of his shirt, she splayed her fingers against his chest, pressing him back. “Real?”
Jake blinked several times as if that would make him release her.
“Nothing.” He let her push him backward and ran a hand over his face. “Forget I said that.”
Not damn likely.
“So real you walked away?” she said. “Well, that’s a ringing endorsement.”
His eyes flashed, but she didn’t care. Her body missed his closeness, but her mind was swinging wildly through a circus of monkeys, trying to find some sense in the crazy.
“You’re right.” He backed up another step, his eyes unfocused. “I was an ass. And this—” He gestured between them. Harper moved sideways down the sidewalk, her skin still tingling from his touch.
“Is a bad idea,” she finished.
She watched him swallow. “Exactly,” he said.
“We’re not—” she began, faltering, unsure who was using her mouth.
“Good for each other.”
Wham.
Harper felt that all the way to her toes. “So I’m gonna get back to work,” she said, focusing on each and every word so that none of them came out wiggly.
“Yeah, I’m—I’m going back in there,” Jake said.
With one last lingering look, he turned and disappeared back inside. She stared at the door for another moment in case—in case what? He came bursting back out declaring his unending love? She turned and slowly returned to the Steaming Mug, hearing her steps hit the pavement one at a time. She would not cry. She wouldn’t give him that. None of it mattered. He was right. They weren’t good for each other, regardless of what their chemistry did when mixed.
Pulling open the door, hearing her bell chime over her head as she walked back into the eerie stillness of no electricity, she mentally walked away as well.
Chapter Seven
Jake had bought the penthouse apartment on sight because of the phenomenal view. At night, the city came alive with a million colors, and in the daylight the gray of the city was muted by the vibrancy of water and green in the distance. A gentle reminder that there was more out there.
This was a city-is-alive kind of moment, brought to him by a sleepless night that even two warm showers and Boston’s Greatest Hits couldn’t cure.
Jake wanted to blame it on the Plan, as Marco started calling it. He wanted to believe that the hope and worry and stress over this fifty-fifty shot of a project was the reason his mind wouldn’t shut off, but he knew otherwise.
For once, this enviable view meant nothing. All it drove home was the real reason he couldn’t act on the maddening, aching impulse churning his blood.
Harper Haley.
And not just for the most logical reason. Of course he wanted her naked—obviously—his dick had been hard for two days. But he kept going back to the shop and working together. Her laughing with the customers. He’d enjoyed it. All of it. Including kissing her last night and everything today except how it ended.
He’d almost blown it. She’d pushed his buttons and his mouth overloaded his brain, nearly letting out what she’d meant to him years ago. He’d felt it as soon as she was pressed up against him. All the old feelings raging to the surface, out of his reach. Out of his control. Unexpected and uninvited. He couldn’t let that control him again, only to crush them both. Again.
He needed to quit this. Jake Smith might have a purpose, but he also had an expiration date.
Frankie wouldn’t let him forget that. He kept telling him to come clean or move on, but he couldn’t tell people he was a Jericho and still do what he was doing.
Or he could. And there would be no more Harper. Although after today’s little production, there may not be anyway.
That was how it needed to be, right?
Fuck.
Jake got up, pulled on a pair of jeans, and hit speed dial.
• • •
“You know, I could get a job at three different companies making the same money and never have to see what three thirty a.m. looks like,” Marco said, rubbing his eyes under his low ball cap.
“Where’s the love, Marco?” Jake said, already eyeing her building.
“Would you bring me to a booty call at three thirty in the morning?” Marco asked. “No. I’d have to live with blue balls. So there’s your love.”
“It’s not a booty call. I need to talk to her.”
“Uh-huh,” Marco said. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate a conversation right now.”
Jake blew out a breath. “Sorry, man. You’re the only one with a car.”
“Buy one. Your friends will love you for it,” Marco said. “So tell me again why we’re stalking Brooklyn?” He held up his hands. “I mean, I get the neighborhood redo and sticking it to your dad. I really do. But what’s with the blonde? I don’t buy that we’re doing all this out of some civic purpose. You’re not that noble.”
Jake’s eyes went back to her window as a faint light came on. She was up. Damn, that didn’t help his resistance. He heard what Marco said, and wished it wasn’t true. Wished he could write her off as easily as that normally came to him. Wished he could believe what he’d told her earlier.
We aren’t good for each other.
Such bullshit. She was the best thing that ever happened to him. But he couldn’t tell her that. Because he wasn’t Jake Smith.
“Does it matter why?” Jake said finally, hearing the admission in his words.
“Depends,” Marco said. “Are you planning to tell Rapunzel up there who you are? Because the whole old-town-vibe plan goes to shit if you do.”
There was a long stretch of silence before Jake spoke.
“Go home. Grab some more sleep,” he said. “I’ll call a cab or something if this goes south.”
Marco shrugged. “Good luck, man.”
He was going to need it.
• • •
Pretending to sleep was useless. Harper had tried hot milk, a hot bath, reading, but nothing would put her troubled mind to rest. Nothing would wipe the look on his face as he said they weren’t good for each other out of her memory. It went hand in hand with the look he’d given her twelve years ago. In the back of a Cutlass Supreme. When she’d given him the ultimate gift and he realized it, when he held her face in his hands and kissed her again, and she’d said the words straight from the deepest part of her.
“This was your first—” He’d struggled with the words. “Harper, why didn’t you tell me, I would’ve—”
“I didn’t want it to be a thing.” Her fingers wound in his hair, her body still buzzing from the crescendo he’d brought her to. “I didn’t want anything to stop us,” she said, kissing him softly. “I just wanted you.”
The look of wonder in his eyes mixed with something else she couldn’t read. Something painful. Something she wanted to soothe away. And the words flowed out of her as naturally as air.
“I love you, Jake,” she said. “Nothing could be more perfect.”
Instead of making the pain in his eyes dissolve, however, it increased off the charts. He pulled her to him, wrapping himself around her, holding her face in his hands and kissing her. Touching her as if he needed to memorize everything.
Turns out, he did.
That was the same look he gave her yesterday.
Harper glanced at the cl
ock: 3:37. Good Lord. Thankfully, today was Sunday, and her blessed day off. She could be lazy. That might not be a good thing, however. Not working left her thoughts open to—
“Shit!”
The buzzer on her door nearly pulled her out of her skin, putting her on full alert. Who the hell would be downstairs, buzzing her at this time?
Wrapping her fraying robe around herself, because clearly the buzzer would know she was only in a braless spaghetti-strap tank top and boy’s pajama boxers, Harper padded to the door. Grabbing a nearby pen as a weapon, she pressed the button.
“Who’s there?”
There was a pause. And then a click.
“Me.”
The pen clattered to the floor. Even after only two days, she’d know that me anywhere. Her breath hitched, and her finger froze over the button. How to respond? Hello, maybe? It’s late, why are you here? Harper’s mouth worked on all of those but none of them came out.
“Harper—”
She jolted and hit the other button—the one that unlocked the door. A full five seconds ticked by before that thought fully came together.
Jake was coming.
Harper spun, taking in the room. No laundry out. Not dirty plate on the coffee table. Smut novel on the couch—Harper lunged to grab it and tucked it under a large pillow.
The knock on the door spun her back around. She hadn’t thought about what she looked like, hair still damp and curling on the ends, no makeup, a tattered robe over her pajamas.
“Too late now,” she whispered. Not that it mattered. He’d said his piece. Her heart sank into her stomach. He was saying good-bye.
All her nerves laid down as she opened the door and looked into the same expression. Wanting, but in pain. Happy to see her, but sad. And more fucking delicious than before.
“Trouble sleeping?” she managed, her voice coming out a little froggy.
He opened his mouth and then closed it, leaning one arm on the door frame. “I saw the light,” he said.
Harper cocked an eyebrow. “Be—cause you’re living on the boardwalk now?”
He closed his eyes, and Harper’s hope for levity failed. She sensed there was a much more serious tone to the visit. It had to be what she thought.
“Are you disappearing again?” she asked.
When he looked at her again, the mix was gone. It was all pain. Enough to send a stab to her chest and a burn to her eyes. What on earth?
“I should,” he said.
Harper’s mouth went dry. “Then what’s stopping you?”
One step forward on his part, and his hands were in her hair and his mouth was on hers. There was no hesitation this time. No freeze. Harper’s hands slid up his chest to his neck, his head, her fingers winding together in his hair to pull him in as he dove into her mouth. She arched against him as his hands slid down her back, kneading her skin through the thin fabric. Each move fed upon the other. Her press against him sent his kiss to a hungry level, making her sigh into his mouth, which brought a growl from him she could feel in her toes.
Pulling her arms down, he peeled the robe from her body, his lips and tongue dragging from her mouth down her neck, his whiskers making her gasp as he whispered her name against her hot skin.
She wrapped her arms around his head as he moved lower, his kisses hotter, wetter, teasing the cleavage above her tank top as his hands moved over her ass to the backs of her thighs. He picked her up off her feet as if she weighed nothing, pulling her legs around him.
Harper was breathless, shaking as she clenched them tightly around him, needing to feel him.
“God, baby, I—” he growled against her mouth, turning and pinning her to a wall, driving himself hard against her and cutting off his own words with a moan.
“Oh!” Harper cried, capturing his moan in her kiss, the sensation between her legs zinging through all her nerve endings. His hands moved along her thighs as he pushed himself in a torturous rhythm. It was too much. It was too much to have without a release. She needed all of him.
“Jake,” she breathed against his mouth. “Did you—”
“Yes.”
“Bedroom,” she said. “Please.”
In half a second, she was off the wall and being carried down the short hall, expecting to be tossed onto her bed and ravaged. Instead, he laid her down gently, both of them breathing fast, and looked into her eyes. It was—it was intense. Heavy. Like a deep squeeze of her heart. It took her breath away, and when she touched his face, his breathing changed. He closed his eyes and kissed her palm, then lowered his face to her chest.
Kissing his way down her belly, he raised her shirt and made a trail back up. Teasing her nipples, making love to them with his mouth, driving her mad with the sudden slow tempo. Cranking up her desire to almost unbearable, before heading south again.
“Oh, God, Jake,” she breathed as he partially pulled down her shorts, stopping at the barely covered point, hovering wet kisses just above the point of madness. He’d gotten good at the tease.
Then her shorts were history.
But Harper had another plan. Pushing him over gently, she dropped kisses down his stomach as she unfastened his jeans, his dick a rock-hard mound that sprang free as she slowly unzipped.
“Fuck,” Jake hissed through his teeth.
“I’m working on it.” She winked at him while she trailed her lips down one side, then pulled his jeans off and crawled back up his body.
“Harper,” he said, drawing out her name so slowly she almost finished right there.
Running her tongue up the length of him, she took him in her mouth long enough to jolt him to a sitting position, grabbing her head with wild unfocused eyes.
“Front pocket,” he croaked. “Please.”
Scrambling down, she retrieved the package, rolling it onto him with trembling fingers as she straddled him, gasping as his fingers had their way with her. She was no virgin this time, but it had been a while. A long while. And dear God, she was about to come apart.
“I need you,” she breathed, lowering herself onto him inch by inch, pumping her body in a teasing torture until he grabbed her hips and thrust upward, digging his fingers into her flesh.
“I need you more.” He pumped her hips, muscles flexing with the strain. “Roll over, baby. I need all of you.”
In seconds she was on her back, and déjà vu rushed through her body as once again Jake had her legs over his shoulders and his eyes boring into hers. Sinking into her with all he had. Harder. Harder. Her whole body started to shake with the pending wave, and she let go of him as her back arched off the bed and guttural, primal sounds came from her throat. The room crashed around her as the world’s most delicious release washed over her.
And then he roared. Pumping into her for what felt like forever as his own orgasm took him down.
As he collapsed in her arms, their bodies heaving to breathe, slick with sweat, Harper heard the words in her head.
I love you, Jake.
She’d said them last time, and never saw him again.
This time Harper didn’t say a word.
Chapter Eight
Jake awoke from a dead sleep, blinking against the light pouring in the window, unsure why there was light pouring in anywhere. His bedroom window covers were never open. And then the woman in his arms brought it all back. The very warm, sexy-sweet smelling woman, her hair messy and tousled against his chest, her bare body curled against his. It was the simplest and most basic of things, and it kicked him in the nuts with the force of a raging bull.
He had stayed, and made love to her a second time. Talked about the Plan. About life. About family—or as much as he could. He’d fallen asleep with her in his arms. Hell, he had fallen asleep. Period. And he had no sense of panic. No urge to run. He was breaking his own rules, and yet—he wanted to stay. He liked laying beside her, listening to her breathe, feeling her velvety skin under his fingers. Twirling a lock of her hair. Why couldn’t this be real?
And there
was the panic.
Because it wasn’t.
This life—this reality Jake just woke up to—it wasn’t his. It belonged to Jake Smith. Liar Extraordinaire.
He had stood outside her door with every intention of telling her. Throwing the plan to hell, hoping she’d let him save it, but needing to come clean more. Then she opened the door looking like a warm, sexy dessert, and oh so sad. Asking if he was going to leave again. And suddenly he had to have her in his arms, in his mouth, in his—Jake shut his eyes and clenched his teeth together before the word could sprout roots.
Walk away.
“Mmm,” Harper sighed, stretching her body against him like a very sexy cat. Her leg brushed against his nuts, and hello—she had his full attention.
No. He couldn’t do it again. He should think cold thoughts. He stretched for his phone, careful not to wake her, and texted Frankie with one thumb.
Need a ride back to the city if you can.
A minute or so later, his phone buzzed.
Where are you?
Brooklyn.
A pause. Why?
Part of him missed the yes-sir-no-sir responses that their relationship used to comprise of, when he didn’t have to explain himself. Now they were more. Frankie had become a friend of sorts, and certainly a partner in his deception.
Are you available?
“What are you doing?” Harper asked sleepily, resting her chin on his chest.
God help him, but nothing in this world was sexier than a woman’s satisfied smile and knowing you put it there.
“Seeing if I can catch a ride with Frankie,” he said, smoothing hair out of her eyes.
Her eyebrows dipped together. “How did you get here?”
“A cab,” he lied. He couldn’t keep claiming friends. No one had friends that good that weren’t being paid. “But Frankie has to go into the city anyway, so . . .”
Hero in Disguise Page 6
