Colton #2
“Wade is setting up motion sensors in my office in case the camera is ever compromised, but this doesn’t seem like a conversation to have in front of people,” she says, glancing up at the camera in the center ceiling.
She takes out her phone and sends off a text, glancing back up at the camera, red light blinking away.
She scowls, glancing back at her phone before angrily typing again.
Evidently, Sadie doesn’t like letting Harper turn the cameras off anywhere anymore.
She waits until the red light disappears before she tosses her phone onto the end of the couch.
“What the hell was that, Colton?” she says, holding her hands against her hips in accusation.
“Exactly what I was thinking, Harper,” I bite back, walking further into the room to stand on the opposite side of the couch, facing the mirrors instead of my heart.
Of all the ways I saw this falling apart, I never considered it would be losing her like this, because she didn’t feel the same way.
I told her this wasn’t just sex for me, I told her I was hers, I showed her what I would do for her, and it still wasn’t enough.
I wasn’t enough. I’ve been falling hard and fast and she’s still dating.
“I should fire you for that. That’s how you treat my guests, and an important one at that,” she huffs, throwing her hands in exasperation. Like I’m being the unreasonable one.
My head snaps up to the mirror before me, catching her eyes over my shoulder, “Then fire me.” She sucks in a breath, not expecting me to call her on the pathetic threat. “If he’s so important to you, then fire me.”
“I don’t want to fire you, you stupid ass. I want you to tell me what’s wrong. I don’t under—”
“He touched you, held your hand, made you laugh, and the way you looked at him—you don’t look at anyone like that, Harper.
” I’m pacing the length of the couch now, feeling like a caged animal, unable to run away from the emotions coursing through me.
“Here I am, thinking this is it, she’s finally letting me in, and I’m so fucking lucky to get to love her.
Then I see you with this guy and you look happy, so fucking happy Harper.
You looked at him like I look at you, like he saved you. ”
She moves to stand in front of me, halting my pacing and forcing me to look at her.
When her hand reaches out to me, I stand frozen for a moment, unsure if I want her hands on me right now.
If she’s going to rip my heart out, I can’t weaken at her touch, can’t take comfort from the one person capable of breaking me.
“Here I am, loving you, and you’re introducing me to your dates, like I’m nothing but another employee. Are you trying to torture me? Is that it? Then fire me. Tell me to go, put me out of my misery.”
Harper’s hand glides from my chest to my neck before settling against my cheek. I don’t know what I expected. Perhaps reassurance, an excuse that it wasn’t what it looked like. I get none of those. Harper laughs, and suddenly her soft caress feels like a slap.
I snap, gripping the back of her neck and pulling her to me, crashing my lips to hers.
It’s bruising, claiming, all-consuming. I lift her, legs wrapping around my waist, forcing the black silk to ride obscenely high against her thighs as I walk a step back until my legs hit the couch and sit, pulling her to straddle me.
“I love you, Harper. I meant it when I said I am yours and you are mine, and I don’t share what’s mine.” I growl into her mouth, planting kisses down her jaw and neck as she pants.
She throws her head back as I pull one of her nipples into my mouth through the fabric of her dress.
“Say it again,” she pants.
I thread one hand through her dark locks, the other on her waist, dragging her across my hard cock that’s pressing desperately against my pants. “You. Are. Mine.” I accentuate each word with a pulse across her core.
She shakes her head, nails dragging down my arms, sure to leave marks, even with the fabric of my shirt between us.
She brings her lips back to mine, kissing me fiercely, dragging her teeth across my bottom lip that has me feral.
She pulls back, not far, just enough to whisper against my lips, “Say it again.” I realize the words she wants to hear again, the whispered request making my heart beat wildly against my ribs.
I didn’t even mean to say it the first time. The words that have been on the tip of my tongue for weeks finally escaped. I love Harper Mathers with everything I am, even if I don’t deserve to.
I press my forehead to hers. “I love you, Harper. I knew it the first moment we met, from the moment you told me to dance for you.” I chuckle softly at the memory.
“I love the smirk that teases with mischief, the smile that promises joy and the scowl that screams danger. I love that you get a little line here,” I brush my thumb between her eyes, “when you’re worried.
I love that this side of your mouth,” a quick brush of my lips on the right corner of hers, “turns up first when you’re thinking something dirty.
I love your brave heart, and how fiercely you wield it to protect others.
You saved me before I knew I was in danger, and I will always love you. ”
She breathes out slowly, a weight lifted off her chest, before she pulls away from my lap to stand.
She takes a few measured breaths, just staring down at me, eyes traveling from my face to take in the rest of me sprawled on the couch.
My white shirt is unbuttoned at the neck, suspenders still held firmly in place on my shoulders, the gold clasps glinting in the mirrors encasing us.
She turns away from me, walking to where the tablet is mounted on the wall, pressing a few buttons until a slow beat permeates through the hidden speakers, slow and seductive.
She walks back to stand in front of me, but she turns away to face the mirrored wall, knowing I can still see every angle of her as she smiles.
Painfully slowly, she drags her hands along the outer sides of her thighs, swaying to the beat as her hands reach her waist, wrapping around her middle.
I lean forward, eyes darting everywhere, desperate not to miss a single sway of her curves as she slides her hands over her breasts to the nape of her neck.
She pauses, catching my eyes in the mirror, before she slowly takes one end of the satin bow and extends her arm to the side, pulling the fabric taut and releasing the material.
The black fabric slinks down her body like spilled ink, pooling at her feet before she delicately lifts one foot, then the other, leaving the fabric behind as she turns to me.
I’m painfully aware of the half-naked goddess in front of me, baring herself to me, yet I can’t look away from her eyes, drowning in the molten pools of gold.
She doesn’t speak, just tilts her head to the side, a hand trailing her collarbone while the other sweeps across her lower stomach, the question in her gaze snapping mine to take in the present she thoughtfully unwrapped for me.
The top she wears is strapless to accommodate the style of the dress, a black mesh fabric covering only a portion of her, leaving the tops of her breasts exposed.
A black, darker material is woven through the mesh, placed perfectly to cover her nipples.
The material is making a valiant effort, but there is no hiding the way they tighten and pebble as I rake my eyes over them, wanting to pull them back to my greedy lips.
I move my gaze lower, watching her skin shiver as I take my time, getting my fill. There is a black garter belt around her waist, a few inches thick, made of the same darker fabric that patterns the mesh of her bra and matching underwear.
My God. The underwear, if you can call it that, is held together by two flimsy straps sitting high on either hip.
The clasps on the garter lay over the thin material of her underwear, clipping onto her thigh-high stockings.
All of it accentuating her strong thighs and hips I want to sink my fingers into.