If You Give a CEO a Chance (Aspen Grove #3)

Chapter 21

A fter dinner, Harrison steps into his office for a work call, so I check on Cat. He’s in the middle of tearing apart one of my towels, giving me a disinterested glance when I enter the bathroom. The bowl I left in the corner earlier has been licked clean, not a trace of salmon delight in sight. If I hadn’t left him with an extra portion, the towel might not have been his only casualty.

When he notices the door ajar, he saunters toward it, meowing loudly, begging for freedom.

I widen my stance, blocking his exit. “I’ll let you out if you promise not to cause any mayhem tonight. Harrison is in a good mood, and the last thing we need is to mess that up.” When I step aside, Cat darts out of the bathroom, tail flicking as if taunting me to chase him.

“You better behave,” I call out after him.

Not that there’s much I can do if he doesn’t. That cat has me wrapped around his finger, whether I like it or not.

I follow close behind, keeping an eye on him in case he tries anything mischievous. He makes a beeline for the living room, hopping on the couch, and curls up in the blanket he’s now claimed as his. Once he lays his head down, signaling that he’s not going anywhere, I take it as my cue to leave.

I head into the dining area to collect the dirty dishes from dinner and carry them to the kitchen. I set them in the sink and turn on the faucet for hot water. I’m just about to start washing them when Harrison strolls in, sporting gray sweats low on his hips and a dark green T-shirt stretching across his chest. He must have changed out of his suit after his call. Thank god he has no idea that seeing him in casual clothes is my kryptonite—otherwise, he’d probably wear them around the apartment just to torment me. Now I’m convinced that’s why he has a problem with me wearing shorts and tank tops.

Damn our mutual attraction.

I’ve learned the hard way that taking risks with men—Harrison included—only leads to pain. It’s difficult to imagine a situation where it could turn out for the better. If things go south, not only would I lose my place to live, but also the generous salary I’m using to save up for my restaurant.

Harrison steps behind me and nudges my shoulder. “Scoot over,” he instructs.

I stay rooted in place, still dazed by how good he looks in sweats. “Why?”

“You made dinner, so it’s only fair that I help with the dishes.” He edges closer, his leg brushing against mine. “Why don’t you rinse, and I’ll load the dishwasher,” he suggests.

I absentmindedly nod, and my senses becoming hyperaware of the subtle pressure as his proximity fills the space. A simple touch shouldn’t hold this kind of power, yet here I am, fighting the urge to lean in.

To stay busy, I grab the dishcloth hanging from the faucet and swipe one of the plates clean. I hand it off to Harrison, careful that our hands don’t touch, not wanting to risk inciting a spark I won’t be able to extinguish.

Harrison moves with practiced precision, his motions steady and efficient. I scrub a dish, barely noticing the water running over my hand, too caught up in watching the way his thumb strokes the edge of a plate before setting it into the dishwasher. He exhales softly, a slow, controlled breath sending a shiver down my spine.

“I didn’t peg you for a dishwasher pro,” I tease. “I’m impressed.”

He rolls his eyes. “My family may be wealthy, but my parents taught us the importance of humility and hard work, regardless of the balance of our bank account. That’s why they raised us in Aspen Grove—to prioritize giving us a loving, supportive environment where we could stay grounded.”

I swallow back the lump in my throat. His words trigger memories of living with my parents in a row house with peeling linoleum floors, where the heat rarely worked. My dad worked construction, and my mom waited tables at the diner down the street.

Every day after school, my mom waited for me at home, pulling me into a warm embrace when I stepped through the door. She always let me help her with dinner, and we’d gather around the kitchen table as a family. We didn’t have much, but love was in endless supply. Now it feels like a relic of another life—a rare treasure, no longer within reach. I miss my parents so much. Their absence is a hollow space in my heart I’ll never be able to fill, no matter how much time passes.

Harrison gives me a concerned look, wiping his hand on a towel before resting his hand on my arm. “Fallon, where did you go just now?”

I stare at him, tempted to lie, but the truth weighs heavy tonight. “Listening to you talk about your family makes me miss my parents,” I admit.

“Do they live in London?” he asks with genuine curiosity.

My heart clenches in my chest as I shake my head. “They passed when I was twelve,” I whisper.

During our weekend together, I didn’t open up about my past. I prefer to keep it private unless I’m close with someone—I’ve never been one to invite pity from strangers or acquaintances.

“I’m sorry, I had no idea,” Harrison says, his expression softening. “That must have been really hard losing them so young, I can’t even imagine.” He gives my arm a gentle squeeze, letting the silence hang between us. “They must have been amazing people to have raised someone like you. If you ever want to talk about them, I’d love to listen.”

I tilt my head, giving him a faint smile. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

A few days ago, I never would have confided in him, worried that he’d make light of my situation. However, now I know the truth. He cares more than I give him credit for, and he’s not judging me or making me feel less than. Instead, he’s simply here, acknowledging the invisible scars I carry, and it means more than I care to admit.

Harrison’s hand drifts down my arm as I speak. “I was just a kid when I lost them,” I continue. “One minute we were having breakfast together. The next, the police were at our doorstep that night, telling me my parents had been in an accident on their way home from a concert.” I glance down at the bubbles swirling in the sink, fighting back tears, the emotions I’ve kept buried for so long bubbling to the surface. “My mom had a passion for cooking, and because of her experience with her nut allergy, she often talked about opening a restaurant that catered to those with food allergies. But she never got the chance.” The last part comes out in a whisper. “She was my inspiration to become a chef, and when I open my own place someday, it will be in her honor.”

“That’s a beautiful sentiment. I know there’s nothing I can say to ease the pain of losing her, but I hope you know she’d be so proud of you,” Harrison says gently.

“It means a lot for you to say that. I want to name it Catherine’s Table, after her.”

“I love that. It’s the perfect name for a restaurant that will undoubtedly be a successful venture,” he states. “You’re a talented chef who has a gift for turning simple ingredients into a culinary masterpiece. Not to mention you’re driven, determined, and have unwavering focus—traits every successful entrepreneur needs.”

“If you say so.” I laugh lightly. “My aspirations pale in comparison to building a billion-dollar empire.”

One thing about Harrison is his unrelenting work ethic. He’s like the Energizer Bunny, always on the move, fueled by ambition and impossible standards.

Harrison laughs dryly. “My grandpa and dad were the ones who built Stafford Holdings from the ground up. All I had to do was step in and take the reins.” He briefly pauses to load several utensils into the dishwasher. “What you’re doing is far more impressive. There aren’t many people willing to put in the work and create a business from the ground up.”

I offer him a shy grin, my cheeks flushing slightly. “It’s definitely scary, but without risk, there’s no reward.”

I’m not used to his praise, so it takes me a moment to fully appreciate it, especially coming from someone as successful as him.

The quiet hum of the running water is a welcome distraction. It’s impossible not to keep stealing glances at Harrison. His hair is tousled, giving him a roguish look compared to the polished man he usually is, while the scent of pine needles and fresh mint surrounds me, wrapping around me like a subtle invitation.

“You might break that if you scrub any harder,” Harrison warns, nodding toward the bowl I’m washing.

“Oops,” I say, heat rising to my cheeks.

Our hands brush when I give it to him, and my breath catches as the warmth of his skin sends a shiver up my arm.

Harrison has a way of making me react before I can think twice, and the fact that we’re in uncharted territory only amplifies the charge in the air.

“There are only a few dishes left. Go take a break. I know you’ve been on your feet a lot the last few days,” Harrison says, expecting me to obey without argument.

“I think this might be the one time I actually like it when you’re bossy,” I quip, nudging his shoulder playfully.

Harrison raises an eyebrow, his lips curving into a sly smile. “If you want to see me bossy, that can be arranged.”

He moves behind me, his chest pressing against my back, effectively pinning me to the sink. The hard lines of his body against mine sets my pulse racing.

“It’s difficult to think straight when you’re this close,” I say softly, tilting my head to look at him.

Harrison leans in to switch the faucet off, his breath whispering across my neck. “I could say the same thing about you.”

I arch a brow. “Just a few months ago you were adamant against me moving in.”

“That was before you won me over with your interior decorating skills.”

“Cute. Are you always this charming?” I ask sarcastically.

“Only when it comes to things I care too much about to lose,” he murmurs.

I shift to the side, trying to put distance between us, all too aware of how close he is.

“Twenty-four hours ago, you couldn’t stand me and were probably plotting your next prank,” I speak slowly, willing my voice to remain steady.

He doesn’t move, forcing me to tilt my head to look at him.

“Who says I’ve stopped?” He leans in, his mouth grazing my ear, sending a ripple of heat across my skin. “Just because our kiss is all I can think about, doesn’t mean my usual antics are on hold.” His tone playful.

“Good to know I’m still keeping you on your toes.” There’s a hunger in his gaze, as if he’s devouring every inch of me with his eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I whisper.

“Like what?” He trails his hand down my cheek, his touch lingering as he twirls a strand of my hair around his fingertip.

“Like you’re starving, and I’m the only thing on the menu.”

“I’m curious if our next kiss will be as intense as the last one,” he admits without shame, his eyes locking on my mouth.

I shake my head. “There won’t be a next time.”

“Oh really? And why is that?”

“Have you forgotten the past month? Obviously, we’re not compatible.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, trouble,” Harrison tells me. “We might have misjudged each other, but if memory serves me right, we had one hell of a connection ten years ago, and let’s not forget how great the sex was,” he adds with a wistful smile.

My gaze falls to his mouth as his tongue glides along his lower lip, annoyance creeping in since I can’t seem to control my reaction to him. “Physical attraction only goes so far. We can’t even go five minutes without arguing.”

“That means the makeup sex will be explosive,” he says with a smug grin. “Like they say, all is fair in love and war, baby.”

The term of endearment is nearly my undoing, but I force my lips into a neutral line, swallowing the warmth rising in my chest. The last thing I want right now is to feed his ego into thinking I’m falling for his charms. But damn, his smile makes it hard to pretend.

“I’m not your baby.”

Harrison runs a finger along my arm, an electric thrill shooting through me, leaving my skin covered in goose bumps.

“Not yet,” he says it like it’s a promise of what’s to come.

There are countless reasons why I should walk out of this room, but the main one is that he has the ability to shatter me completely if I let him—body and soul. Yet, as he stands mere inches from me, I can’t help but wish he’d draw me against him and kiss me with everything he’s got.

My hand betrays me, settling over Harrison’s, which is now resting on my hip. I exhale deeply as I move my hand to the hem of his sweats, my thumb tracing under his shirt to the heated skin above his V-line. A deep growl rumbles from him, his eyes igniting with raw intensity.

I wet my lips, tilting my chin to meet his piercing gaze. He lowers his head, his mouth inches from mine, when the sound of shattering glass from the living room interrupts us. Harrison draws me into his arms, shielding me from whatever caused the noise.

“What the hell was that?” he asks.

I sigh deeply into his chest. “Probably Cat knocking the flowers off the table.”

That’s what I get for letting him out of my bathroom.

I go to move, but Harrison tugs me closer.

“I’ll handle it.”

“You will?” I ask, surprised. “Why?”

He shakes his head. “I’m going to clean up the glass, so neither of you gets hurt. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your aversion to shoes.” He gestures to my fuzzy socks.

Without giving me a chance to respond, he releases me and grabs a roll of paper towels off the counter and a broom from the pantry. He heads into the dining room to assess the damage.

My head is spinning, struggling to grasp how quickly things have shifted. Just yesterday, Harrison and I were at odds, constantly butting heads, and now that tension has shifted into something much more intense—pure, undeniable lust.

During our weekend together, he was practically a stranger, and still, I felt a strong connection with him. However, this time, if things go further, there’s a real chance I’ll have to confront the feelings I’ve left buried for the past ten years, and that terrifies me beyond belief. Now that he’s showing his thoughtful and caring side again, it’s a reminder that I don’t actually hate him and why I was intrigued by him from the start.

Cat protested Harrison’s efforts to clean up the mess in the dining room. However, after bribing the troublemaker with a dish of chicken and rice, the deviant feline retreated to his bed in the kitchen, making it possible for Harrison to work without disruption. Apparently, wreaking havoc really takes it out of Cat because he never causes a disturbance at night.

Harrison’s presence is all-consuming, his gentle touches and unexpected chivalry leaving me flustered, leaving me hot and bothered. When I finally retreat to my bedroom, I’m eager for a release.

I’m ready for a long shower, and after closing my bedroom door, I strip down to my bra and panties, tossing my shirt and jeans in the hamper. I stop at my nightstand to retrieve my trusty black rabbit vibrator. I haven’t used it since I moved in, which explains why I’m so desperate for a release. I’m wound like a spring and just need to relieve the tension so I can sleep.

With Harrison on the other side of the apartment, he won’t ever know. Not if I’m in the shower, the water drowning out any sound.

I’m stunned speechless when I pull my vibrator out to find the handle has been bedazzled in the same pink and blue gemstones that I used for the hockey stick.

Harrison.

Oh my god.

He touched my vibrator, and I hate that I’m more turned on by it than anything. Still, he has some explaining to do.

All rational thought goes out the window, and I storm out of my bedroom, vibrator in hand, and march down the hall to find Harrison.

I storm past the empty living room and Harrison’s office, entering the primary bedroom without knocking, and coming to a sudden halt when I see him standing near the bed. The only thing he’s wearing is a towel wrapped around his waist, and his hair is damp like he just got out of the shower.

Seems like we had the same idea.

“Ever heard of knocking?” He scowls, using a second towel to dry his hair before tossing it over the closet door to dry.

“Why should I respect your boundaries when you haven’t done the same for me?” I challenge, holding out my bedazzled vibrator.

He steps closer, scrutinizing it like it’s an object he’s never seen before. “That looks like a vibrator, but personally I’ve never used one, so I could be wrong,” he says, his tone smug.

I raise a brow. “Are you implying it bedazzled itself?”

“Could be.” He shrugs. “Or maybe you have a habit of leaving your nightstand drawer open, and someone spotted it while looking around for prank inspiration.”

I blow out a breath, attempting to keep my attention on his face, but his bare chest makes it nearly impossible. Several droplets of water cling to his chest, running along his abs, past his V-line.

“My eyes are up here,” Harrison taunts, tilting my chin to meet his gaze.

“I’m just wondering where the rest of your clothes are,” I retort.

He snorts. “I could ask you the same question, trouble.”

I purse my lips, glancing down at myself. My eyes widen when it dawns on me that I’m standing here in just my bra and underwear. I was in such a hurry to confront him that I forgot to put my clothes back on.

I fold my arms across my chest and square my shoulders. “If you’re not ashamed of walking around practically naked, why should I be?”

His eyes trace over me, from head to toe, before settling on my face, his voice low and deliberate when he says, “You shouldn’t be. You’re beautiful.”

I squint my eyes. “Has that line worked for you in the past?”

“You tell me. You’re the only one I’ve ever tried it on.”

“I find that hard to believe.” The slight tremor in my voice betrays me.

“I’m many things, but a liar isn’t one of them. So, I mean it when I say, you’re fucking gorgeous.” My nipples harden at his words and smoldering stare. “Looks like only the handle has been bedazzled, so I imagine it’s still usable,” Harrison adds, motioning to the device I’m gripping like a lifeline. “Unlike my hockey stick that’s covered from butt end to blade in sparkles.”

“This is not usable,” I say, holding out my vibrator.

Harrison cocks a brow. “May I?”

He holds out his hand, and I hesitantly give him the device, the warmth of his touch making my breath hitch.

I watch with bated breath as he tinkers with the settings, pushing several buttons until the device starts to vibrate. He looks at me with a grin spreading across his face, and I duck my head to hide the heat rising in my cheeks.

“Hmm. Seems to work just fine. Why don’t you give it a test drive while I supervise?”

I lift my head, eyes wide. “What?” I’m convinced I heard him wrong.

“Stop overthinking, and let me make you feel good, trouble,” he says softly. “Get on the bed, and you’ll see what I mean.”

The stillness hangs in the air as Harrison turns off the vibrator and gives it to me, the silence thick with anticipation. His eyes, dark with desire, leave no doubt that this is my decision to make. I could walk away if I wanted to, but why would I? Not when he’s offering me the release, I’ve wanted all night.

I inhale deeply, and with my vibrator in hand, I crawl to the middle of the bed and lie on my back, the mattress molding to my body. I glance over to find Harrison’s heated gaze on me as I take off my bra, flinging it to the ground, then shimmy out of my underwear, tossing them in his direction. He easily catches the panties, a frantic beat pulsing through me when he lifts them to his nose and inhales deeply.

Oh my god.

“Take the vibrator and slip the tip into your pussy,” he orders, my lacy underwear still gripped in his hand. “Unless you’re not up to the challenge,” he taunts.

I shoot him a glare. Part of me wants to protest out of principle, but a bigger part craves the pleasure I know he’s capable of offering, thrilled by the thought of him watching me.

Anticipation crackles in the air as I push the vibrator inside me, groaning at the welcome intrusion. I’m already soaked from fantasizing about Harrison’s thick cock behind that towel. The sensation feels incredible, given my heightened state.

“Don’t put it in any farther,” Harrison warns, chuckling when a groan passes my lips.

“Is this another way to torment me?” I mutter.

I wouldn’t put it past him to try and deprive me of an orgasm.

He leans over the bed, pressing a chaste kiss to my mouth. “Turn the vibrator on, and you’ll find out,” he says with a small smirk. “But only use shallow strokes, and don’t go near your clit.”

I narrow my eyes as he pulls back, making it clear it’s my move.

There’s no chance I’m giving him the upper hand, especially not when an orgasm is on the line.

I exhale sharply, shoving all doubts to the back of my mind, and focus solely on the gratification he’s promised. A soft hum buzzes through the air when I turn the device on. The pulse courses through me, and I moan softly as the vibrations tease my entrance.

“With your free hand, tease your nipples,” Harrison orders.

A jolt of pleasure shoots through me at his command, and I don’t hesitate to grab my left breast, cupping it tightly before flicking the nipple like he ordered. His heated gaze is locked on me, watching my every move from his spot by the bed.

“Pinch your nipple hard,” he demands.

I squeeze it firmly between my fingers, my mouth parting open in a surprised gasp.

“Now push the vibrator in and out deeper, but go slow.”

I move the device in a steady motion, my mind wandering to an image of Harrison using his skilled tongue, licking me as he coaxes pleasure from my body. His fingers pressed into the tender flesh of my thighs. I pick up my pace, desperate for more friction, letting out a groan.

“Slower,” Harrison scolds gently.

I tilt my head toward him, frowning. “I hate you.”

He chuckles. “Doesn’t sound like you hate me.”

My eyes widen when he drops his towel, revealing his thick cock, pre-cum already leaking from the tip.

Maybe I should be self-conscious that I’m spread eagle on the bed with a vibrator shoved in my pussy while my boss, and the man who’s been the bane of my existence, looks on like he can’t get enough.

I’m emboldened, aware that while Harrison may be calling the shots, I have all the power in this situation. Especially when I look over to find him wrapping the lace panties around his shaft and stroking it in slow, steady pumps. He lets out a sharp hiss as he rubs the lace against his skin, sending a shock of arousal through my veins as I watch.

“Okay, so hate might be a strong word,” I say on a gasp. “But you are infuriating.”

“Likewise,” he taunts. “Now move the vibrator to your clit.”

Thank god.

I pull the device from my entrance and press it against my clit, my muscles taut with the prospect of a climax.

“You’ll look at me when you come,” Harrison states, and my gaze instinctively meets his. “Imagine I’m kneeling before you, my hands gripping your thighs.” The pace of my breathing picks up when I turn up the speed of the vibrator. “I’m licking your pussy with my tongue as I play with those pretty little nipples of yours, squeezing them so damn hard.” He tightens his grip on his cock as he watches me rub the device over my clit in frantic strokes. “I’d make you writhe beneath me, begging until your voice was hoarse, and only then would I allow you to fall over the edge.”

“Oh god, Harrison,” I cry out.

“That’s it, baby,” he croons, his chocolate-brown eyes ablaze with heat. “Come for me.”

I put more pressure on my clit, and with my other hand, I pinch my nipple hard. My back arches off the bed as I chase my release.

“Fuck Fallon, those noises you make are my undoing,” Harrison pants.

He finds his own frenzied release with my panties wrapped around his cock, pumping it roughly. Watching him sends me over the edge, our mingled moans filling the room.

My body is simmering with a lustful haze, and I feel like I’m floating, suspended on a cloud of pleasure. The lingering aftershocks bring a smile to my face as my head falls back on the pillow to catch my breath.

I look over to find Harrison wiping his cock with my panties, tossing them into the hamper in the corner. He crawls onto the bed, lying down next to me, and slides his arm down my hip, pulling me into his side. “That was fucking incredible, trouble.”

I tilt my head, running my finger along his lips. “It was nice.” I shrug.

Fucking incredible actually.

He arches a brow. “Based on the wet spot on my comforter, I’d say that was more than nice .”

Heat rises to my cheeks as I glance down at the evidence, not ready to admit it out loud.

After we lay a clean blanket on the bed, I relax into his protective arms as they tighten around me, overcome by a sense of belonging, like this is where I was always meant to be. Cared for and worshipped by a man who makes me feel cherished in ways I’ve never experienced before.

As Harrison runs his fingers through my hair, I’m reminded of just how long I’ve gone without affection. Being on my own has never been easy, and right now, I just want to believe even for a moment that this could be real.

But that’s also when the fear creeps in, remembering what happened the last time I let my guard down. The threat of getting hurt again has me retreating behind my walls, desperate to shield myself from the vulnerability I’m not ready to face. A knot of panic coils in my stomach, its tendrils spreading until my hands tremble. I clench my fists, refusing to let Harrison catch a glimpse of the chaos swirling inside me.

Reluctantly, I slide out of Harrison’s arms, easing off the bed.

He sits up, watching me. “Where are you going?” His voice carries a hint of confusion.

“It’s late. I better get back to my room since I have to be up earlier to prep breakfast in the morning.” I grab the vibrator and bend down to get my discarded bra off the floor and bolt for the door. “Thanks for the orgasm, Harrison,” I call over my shoulder as I exit the room, shutting the door behind me before he can ask me any more questions.

I slump against the wall, breathing in deep. The walls I’ve built around my heart are now so fragile, and I’m afraid even the smallest crack could shatter them completely.

Then again, is that really such a bad thing?