Chapter 8 #2
“You did not do one of those stupid names.” I give him a look of un-amusement.
“Carry better?” He considers it as he hands me back my phone. “Nah, I stand by Harbon.”
“It isn’t happening. I think we all just need to accept that,” I grumble.
“Sure.” He smirks as he shoves another bite of my lasagna into his mouth, the one I couldn’t get myself to eat because my stomach was in knots over Harry being out on this stupid fucking date. Fucking Austin. Fuck him.
Two days later, I am sitting at my island counter, trying so hard to focus on the contract in front of me.
I rub my eyes and I try to convince myself to not check where Harry is right now.
My doorbell rings four times followed by hard pounding.
I shove to my feet, grabbing the handgun from the drawer until I hear her voice shouting, “I know you are fucking there. I saw both your car and bike through the mail slot in the garage.”
I chuckle. I know where she is at least. I close the drawer with my gun in it, heading to the door, I yank it open. “What the fuck Harry.”
She pushes past me, stomping into my house, she pauses, her body seeming to falter a moment.
Her shoulders lift with a deep breath she drags in, she releases it in a hard push, before her shoulders seem to soften then her spine tightens as she swings to face me.
I tilt my head to the side as I spit some sarcasm her way, “Please, come in. Not like I was doing anything.”
Her chin pulls tight. Shit. I rush to her, wrapping my hands around the sides of her head. “Harry, sexy, talk to me.”
Her nose does a hard wiggle to the side as she sucks in. She pulls back looking around seeming surprised. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I came here.”
I step back into her, wrapping my hands around hers. “You are here now, so you might as well talk.”
Her head tips back as she looks up at me, eyes glassing over, her head shakes and I can see she is fighting with herself. “Where have you been?”
I shrug. “Around.”
Her eyes dart to the side before coming back to my face. “I haven’t seen you.”
“I thought you didn’t like me checking up on you,” I try to sound casual.
She shrugs, the little one she does when she is trying to play off her feelings. “I don’t. I just… I hadn’t seen you and I guess… I just needed to make sure you were alive or something stupid like that.”
“I’m alive.” I squeeze her hands, loving that she hasn’t pulled back from me again.
“Great. Well. Then. I—” Her eyes move around the room, then back to me. “I guess I should go then.”
“Or you can tell me why you really came here,” I suggest.
Her eyes drop down to my lips. “Just wanted to make sure you were alive.”
“You’re lying and I gotta be honest, I fucking hate it,” I grumble at her. “Be honest with me. Even if it’s just this once.”
Her face falls, but her eyes won’t meet mine. “Harlow, please, talk to me.”
“Did you tell him?” her words are whisper quiet.
“Who? What?” I question.
“Dad. Bobby.” She looks absolutely miserable.
“No. I would never tell anyone your secrets.” I reach up, brushing a little bit of her hair back behind her ear. “I may be a nosy fuck, but I don’t share what I learn.”
“Roxy did then. I didn’t think she would… I mean, I guess it’s reasonable, they are together, and like... forever and shit, but…” Her chin trembles. “Does Mint know?”
“I honestly don’t know, but I suspect no.” I cup the side of her head in my hand loving the way she fits so perfectly with me.
“Does it bother you?” she asks, her eyes darting to meet mine again.
“Which part?” I want to make sure I am answering exactly what she is asking.
“That I have scars,” her voice is whisper quiet again and it breaks my heart.
“I hate that you have them because someone wanted to hurt you, but the scars themselves? Never. Scars are just marks of the lives we have lived. Yours represent a strong, incredible woman that couldn’t be stopped.
A bright spirit that couldn’t be snuffed out.
” I press my forehead to hers. “There isn’t a thing about you that I could be bothered by. ”
Her hands both come up, clasping against my jaw, nails lightly press against the skin of my cheek, jaw, and neck. “Why can’t you always be like this?”
“I’d get real fucking boring if I was always like this.” I smirk.
She laughs, it’s soft, sweet, and so inherently Harlow. People think she is tough as nails, or big and bad, but really, she is just a soft sweet woman that hides behind a big ole bark. “Can you not disappear on me again? I don’t like it. I really was worried.”
I drop both of my hands to her hips, I clutch them tight, loving the feel of her petite body enclosed in them. “I am sorry for making you worry. I will be back to our regularly scheduled check-ins.”
“Good. Right.” She pulls her face back from mine, but she doesn’t pull from my grasp. Her nails press a little more into my flesh and I am living for this fucking moment, dreading when it ends.
Then she does it.
Nails scrape lightly against the stubble at my jaw.
My knees go weak.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper. I lean into her hands, her nails press a little more, then scrape downward toward my chin before dragging up.
She doesn’t stop at my ears, no, she spreads her fingers and scratches lightly up into my hair.
My head sags forward giving her better access.
I can’t remember the last time a woman touched me.
Definitely before Harry plowed into my life.
Her nails make delicious whirls across my scalp, my forehead rests against her shoulder as she slides them down the back of my head against my neck. A groan pulls from my chest.
My hands slide behind her, clutching her lower back.
I slip my hands under her low-cut black shirt, allowing myself to feel her flesh under my fingertips.
Her hot breath brushes against my ear, I let my eyes open and tell myself I need to close them again because I can see straight down her shirt, but I don’t.
I let my eyes move over the small swell of her perfect little tits.
The red lace of her bra hints along those brilliant little breasts.
I feel teeth scrape against the ridge of my ear and my brain short circuits.
I pull my head back, look her in the eyes, seeing they are half hooded, then dive in taking her plush lips with my own.
Her nails slide back up and I groan into her mouth, which gives her the room to plunge her tongue between my lips.
I tighten my arms around her, dipping down, I lift her up, carrying her back to my countertop where I deposit her ass on the edge.
Wrapping my hands around her head, so I can really deepen the kiss.
My tongue going stroke for stroke with hers.
She releases the sexiest little moan, her thighs part, I step between them, pressing my rock-hard cock against her.
One of my hands drops from her head to grip her ass, dragging her body closer to mine.
I break the kiss only to drop kisses down her chin along her throat, nipping at the tattoos coloring her skin.
Her nails drag down my spine, her hips rock against me.
“Oh shit!” I startle, jumping back when I hear a male voice coming from the other room. Harry shoves herself off the counter, both of us breathing hard as we look to see who the fuck is there. I blink over and over as I see Virus standing there. “Sorry… the door was open…”
I clear my throat. “Hey man. Uh… maybe don’t uh…”
“Nothing to tell,” he shoots out, misunderstanding what I was going to say. I was going to suggest that he maybe not walk right into my house, or be silent and back the fuck out when he sees I finally have Harry in my grasp.
He turns on his heel before taking off, throwing a “sorry” over his shoulder.
I look back at Harry, her eyes meet mine, her face morphs into a scowl. “Asshole.”
She tears off out of the house, slamming the front door behind her.
Fuck.