20. Harper
TWENTY
Harper
Harper’s Pool House
6:44 PM
The backyard is lit with a soft glow from the underwater pool lights. Ripples of muted blue slivers cast onto the fence and nearby hedges.
The air is still surprisingly warm even though the sun is long gone. It's just cool enough to make the heated water inviting. I’ve set out a small tray of snacks and a couple of cold beers on the patio table. Nothing fancy—pretzels, a few slices of cheese, and crackers—but I imagine Jonah will be hungry after a long day at work and then the gym. Casual. Easy.
As I check the pool temperature one more time, I catch myself smiling. My nerves oddly creep up on me despite my best efforts. I tell myself it’s not a date, just two maybe-more-than-friends hanging out. But the little flutter in my stomach when I hear Jonah’s car pull up says otherwise.
I grab the towel draped over my chair and step toward the gate just as he comes through, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His smile is easy and familiar, but there’s something in his eyes—a flicker of heat, maybe—that makes my pulse skip.
“You weren’t kidding about the setup,” he says, nodding toward the pool and snacks. “This is pretty swanky for a Monday night.”
I shrug, keeping my tone light. “The Norrises know how to live, and I’m not above taking advantage while they’re gone. Help yourself to a beer.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” he says, dropping his bag and grabbing a bottle. His gaze lingers on me for a moment longer than usual before he cracks it open. “This is the best clinic day wrap-up I’ve ever had.”
I raise an eyebrow, smirking. “Rough day?”
“Not exactly,” he says, leaning against the patio table. “More like... entertaining. I had a patient come in convinced his stomach cramps were because his wife was poisoning him.”
I laugh, unable to stop myself. “Oh no.”
“Right? I mean, the man was dead serious. Said she’s been slipping antifreeze into his sweet tea for months.”
“And was she?” I ask, unable to hide my curiosity.
Jonah shakes his head, grinning. “Nope. Turns out he’s just severely constipated and refuses to drink water. The nurse told him to start hydrating or risk keeling over, and I swear he looked disappointed she didn’t prescribe divorce papers.”
I snort, shaking my head. “That sounds exactly like something that would happen in clinic. Please tell me you didn’t laugh in his face.”
“Not even a chuckle,” Jonah says, holding up three fingers. “But, it is a lot of work to keep a straight face and say, 'Mr. Billings, no one is trying to poison you. You're just full of shit.'”
The banter comes easy, the kind of rhythm we’ve always had, but there’s an undercurrent now, something more significant. I feel it in the way his eyes track my movements, in the way my skin prickles under his gaze.
When we finally get into the pool, the water is as warm as promised, a perfect contrast to the cool evening air. Jonah dives in first, surfacing with a shake of his head that sends water droplets flying everywhere. He’s grinning like a kid, the playful energy infectious.
“Come on, Gray. You’re not afraid of a little water, are you?”
“Not remotely,” I say, sliding in. The heat wraps around me instantly, and I can’t help but sigh at how good it feels.
We splash, trade barbs, and let the conversation ebb and flow with the water. But it doesn’t take long for the teasing to shift to something more sultry.
Jonah drifts closer. His movements are slower, and his eyes hold me slightly longer than they did before. There is a palpable shift in my chest, and my pulse ticks faster as the space between us disappears.
The warmth of his skin on mine in the water does something to me that makes my body practically vibrate with excitement.
“You’re staring,” I say, keeping my voice steady even as my heart is fluttering in full gear.
“I’m appreciating,” he counters in a low voice. “Is that a crime?”
“Depends on the context,” I reply, a smirk playing on my lips. “And the intent.”
His grin softens into something more serious, more focused. “Harper,” he says, his voice barely above a murmur. “You make me a crazy man.”
I tilt my head, the playful edge fading. “Don't even think about blaming that on me,” I say with a laugh as he pulls me tight against his delicious body.
His gaze drops to my lips, and for a moment, the world narrows to just us, the water rippling softly around us, the air charged with anticipation.
My breath catches as I press my middle into his, wanting to feel him as close as I can get.
“I mean it,” he says, his hand brushing my arm, the touch sending a shiver down my spine. “You’ve been in my head all day. Hell, longer than that. I couldn't wait to get back to you.”
I don’t have a response, not in words, anyway. Instead, I wrap my leg around his, savoring the feel of his hair on my smooth legs in the water. His hands find my waist. His grip is firm but unhurried, and when our lips meet, it’s with a kind of urgency that leaves no room for doubt.
The kiss deepens, and the water around us is forgotten as the heat between us takes over. His hands slide lower, anchoring me to him as the tension that’s been building for weeks culminates here and now.
I barely register when he pulls us toward the side of the pool, where he uses his body to press me to it. The world narrows to just him—his touch, his breath, the way he murmurs my name like a promise.
I gasp as Jonah's lips trail down my neck, leaving a path of heated kisses along my collarbone and shoulders. The warm water swirls around us, but I'm consumed by the fire of his touch. His hands grip my waist firmly, pulling me flush against him as he murmurs my name against my skin.
"Harper," he breathes, his voice low and husky. "God, I've wanted this for so long."
I arch into him. My body responds instinctively to his touch. Jonah's fingers slip around the edge of my bikini bottoms, teasing for just a moment before sliding inside. The sudden intrusion makes me cry out as my hips buck against his hand.
"Jonah," I moan, clinging to his shoulders as he works his fingers expertly. The combination of the heated water and his touch is overwhelming. I'm already so close, teetering on the edge embarrassingly quickly.
He seems to sense it, curling his fingers just so, and I'm gone. The orgasm crashes over me like a wave, leaving me trembling and gasping his name. Jonah holds me close, his lips brushing my ear as he whispers praise.
"That's it, sweetheart. You're so beautiful when you come."
As I come down from the high, Jonah slowly guides me toward the pool's steps. His strength is evident as he lifts me out of the water, carrying me to the lounger beside the pool. The spring breeze brushes across my wet skin, making me shiver and heightening every sensation.
Jonah lowers himself between my legs, his intent clear in the hungry look in his eyes. He starts with soft kisses along my inner thighs, each one sending sparks of pleasure through me. When his tongue finally makes contact with my sensitive flesh, I can't hold back a loud moan.
"Jonah, fuck," I gasp, my hands finding their way into his damp hair.
He takes his time, alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and focused attention on my clit. The pleasure builds slowly but steadily, coiling tighter with each expert movement. Jonah's hands grip my thighs, holding me open for him as he works me higher and higher.
"You taste so good," he murmurs against me, the vibrations of his voice adding to the sensation. "I could do this all night."
His words, combined with a particularly clever flick of his tongue, send me over the edge again. This orgasm is even more intense than the first, leaving me shaking and crying out his name. Jonah doesn't let up, drawing out my pleasure until I'm practically sobbing from the intensity.
As I come down, Jonah kisses his way up my body, paying special attention to my breasts before capturing my lips in a searing kiss. I can taste myself on his tongue, and it only fuels the fire burning between us.
Jonah pulls back slightly, his eyes locked on mine as he reaches for his discarded scrub pants. He retrieves a condom, tearing the foil with his teeth without breaking our gaze. The anticipation builds as I watch him roll it on, my heart pounding in time with the deep connection we've felt all evening.
"You're sure?" he asks, always the gentleman even now.
"God, yes," I breathe, pulling him down for another kiss. “Shut up and do it!”
Jonah enters me slowly, giving me time to adjust to his size. We both groan at the sensation, our bodies fitting together perfectly. He starts to move, setting a rhythm that has me seeing stars.
"Fuck, Harper," he groans, his forehead pressed against mine. "You feel incredible."
I wrap my legs around his waist, changing the angle and drawing him even deeper. "So do you," I gasp. "Don't stop."
Our bodies move together under the open sky, the stars above adding to the surreal intensity of the moment. The warm water evaporating off our skin contrasts beautifully with the cool breeze, heightening every touch and sensation.
"You like that?" Jonah asks, his voice rough with exertion and arousal. "You like feeling me deep inside you?"
"Yes," I moan, my nails digging into his back. "God, Jonah, you feel so good."
He smirks, that cocky grin I both love and hate. "Just good? I think we can do better than that."
Jonah shifts, hitching one of my legs over his shoulder and driving even deeper. The new angle has me crying out, pleasure coursing through every nerve ending.
"That's it," he growls. "Let me hear you, sweetheart."
I'm beyond words at this point, reduced to incoherent moans and gasps of his name. Jonah's not much better. His usual eloquence is replaced by grunts and curses as we climb higher together.
The tension builds, coiling tighter and tighter until it finally snaps. I come with a scream of Jonah's name, my body clenching around him. He follows soon after, his hips stuttering as he groans my name like a prayer.
We collapse together, breathless and sated. Jonah holds me close, and I breathe in the scent of his skin - chlorine, sweat, and something uniquely him. It's comforting and exhilarating all at once.
As our breathing slows, I can't help but giggle. "Well, that was..."
"Yeah," Jonah agrees, a lazy smile on his face. "It certainly was."
A shiver runs through me as the night air cools our damp skin. "I'm getting a bit chilly," I admit. "Think you're up for round two in the pool house?"
Jonah's eyes light up with that familiar mischievous glint. "Oh, I'm always up for you, Gray."
He stands, pulling me up with him. We dash towards the pool house, laughing like teenagers. Just before we reach the door, Jonah's hand comes down on my bare ass with a playful smack.
"Hey!" I yelp, but I'm grinning too much to sound properly indignant.
"Couldn't resist," he says with a wink, ushering me inside. "Now, where were we?"
8:51 PM
The room is quiet except for the steady click of the uneven ceiling fan in the other room and our soft, uneven breaths.
Jonah lies beside me, his arm draped across my waist, as I trail my fingers lazily over his chest. His skin is warm under my touch, and my eyes catch the lines of ink covering his shoulder and arm. These tattoos weren’t here the last time—at least, not all of them.
My hand stops on the raised line of skin near his ribs.
“What’s this from?” I ask, my voice quiet but curious as I trace the scar.
He tenses slightly, just enough for me to notice. “A souvenir from my dumbest teenage moment,” he says, his tone light but edged with something deeper. “A reminder that we carry a little of everything with us—the good, the bad, and the really stupid.”
I glance up at him, resting my chin on his chest. “Tell me more,” I say softly. I’m intrigued, but there’s a part of me that feels almost voyeuristic, knowing how much he hates delving deep. This feels like uncharted territory for both of us—an exercise in trust, but one we need if we’re going to move beyond the surface.
He lets out a breath, his fingers absently brushing along my arm. “I was a stupid kid,” he finally says, his voice quieter than usual. “Climbed a fire lookout tower with my best friend, even though we weren’t supposed to. Thought it’d be a good time, something to laugh about later.”
He stops there, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, like he’s willing the moment to pass. I don’t say anything right away, letting the pause stretch. But my curiosity, and the way his voice faltered, won’t let me leave it alone.
“And?” I ask gently, my fingers stilling against his chest. “What happened?”
He hesitates, his jaw tightening. “I don’t usually talk about that part of the story.”
“Do you want to?” I offer, keeping my voice soft. “I’m not pushing, but I'd love to know more about the younger Jonah.”
His fingers pause on my arm, his grip just a little firmer. “You probably don't. Luckily, he grew up."
"Try me."
“We made it to the top, but once we were up there...” He pauses, his voice dropping lower, laced with something heavier. “We were messing around—goofing off, like idiots. He lost his footing, and…. It was a hundred and fifty feet up, if you catch my drift.”
I feel his arm tense beneath my hand, his jaw tightening as if holding back more words.
Oh, God. Suddenly, I feel like the world's biggest jerk for pushing him to talk more about it. I can tell he is upset, and I don't know how to make it better.
My heart clenches at the weight of his words, and my eyes catch on the ink winding across his ribs near the scar. It’s intricate but dark—a tower rising out of jagged shapes that could be rocks or shadows. I trace it lightly with my fingertip. “This... is it connected to him?”
He nods once. I can see his Adam’s apple bobbing as his throat works to swallow. “Yeah. I got it to remember him. Or maybe to make peace with it, I don’t know.” His tone is rough, like the words are scraping their way out. “I thought if I carried it on me, I would forget... like I ever could.”
I let my fingers rest on the tattoo, grounding both of us. “Jonah, you were just a kid. I can't imagine how that must have affected you.”
He doesn’t answer right away, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. “It changed the course of my life. He’s gone, and I’m still here.”
His words hang in the air, heavy with guilt he’s clearly carried for years. I lean closer, pressing my forehead to his shoulder. “Like you said, the good, the bad, the stupid—it all shapes us. I'm sure he is smiling down on you, proud of the man you've become.”
He exhales slowly, his arm tightening around me. “Maybe,” he murmurs. “But sometimes I don't feel like I deserve anything good.” My chest tightens, the weight of his words sinking in. “Jonah...”
“I shouldn’t have pushed him to do it,” he says, cutting me off gently but firmly. “He didn’t want to go, but I kept at him. I thought... I don’t know what I thought.”
“You were a kid,” I say, my voice steady but not dismissive. “You couldn’t have known.”
He’s quiet for a moment, his hand stilling on my arm. “Doesn’t stop it from feeling like it’s on me. And that’s just one scar. There are others—some you can’t see.” He looks at me then, his gaze steady but guarded, like he’s offering me a glimpse into a part of himself he rarely shares.
I reach up and brush my fingers along his jaw, grounding him. “You carry so much, Jonah. Sharing that was brave. I can see that it is still painful.”
He shakes his head slightly, a faint, self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t feel brave. Honestly, I've never told that story to anyone who didn’t already know Dell and what happened.” His voice softens when he says his friend’s name, and the sound of it makes my chest tighten.
I let my fingers drift lower, tracing the edge of the tattoo near his ribs before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to it. He exhales, his body relaxing slightly beneath my touch. Then I move up to kiss him on the lips, hoping to say what words can’t.
When I pull back, I meet his eyes. “Thank you for trusting me with that.”