Chapter 11
H arper had an extra spring in her step the next morning. She had slept like a rock, once again ending up in Luke’s arms at some point during the night. And Luke’s part-time bookkeeper was coming back to work today.
Harper was excited about the prospect of some company around the office and an extra pair of hands to help tackle the work.
Ready for a shower, Harper tugged the t-shirt over her head and dropped it on the floor next to her shorts. Luke was out for a run, his long one. No one was going to witness her mostly naked streak downstairs to grab the new body wash she had left in her bag in the kitchen.
She crooned along to Bruno Mars wailing through her ear buds and busted some serious moves down the stairs. She grabbed the body wash and, since she was in the kitchen, decided she’d pour herself a glass of juice to enjoy after her shower.
She found the juice behind a bag of salad mix and the steaks Luke was going to grill for dinner that night. In her opinion, the fridge’s contents had vastly improved since she moved in. Harper stood on tiptoe to reach for a plastic cup out of the cabinet. Damn it. Couldn’t quite reach.
She levered herself up onto her knees on the counter and grabbed the cup. Just as she moved to hop back down someone grabbed her.
She screamed loud enough that she could hear it over the music thundering in her ears and threw an elbow. She flailed and kicked as she was plucked off the countertop. Her heel grazed solid flesh, and together they went down in a heap.
She crawled forward, scrambling frantically. A hand grabbed at her hip and came away with a fistful of the waistband of her underwear. She shrieked before a hand clamped over her mouth.
Her ear buds were yanked out.
“Jesus Christ, Harper! Stop kicking!”
“Luke?” Harper tried to look over her shoulder and found his face looming over her. “Oh my God! You scared the crap out of me! I thought you were some crazy rapist.”
“What the hell were you doing? I come in, and you’re shaking your ass on the counter.” He was shouting.
“I was getting a cup for juice,” Harper shouted back. “I thought you were out for a run.”
“I was,” he gritted out. “I have an early meeting.”
“Oh.”
“Why don’t you have any clothes on?”
Harper realized that her bare breasts were smashed into the kitchen floor and her underwear was halfway down her thighs.
“Oh my God!” Harper tried to wriggle free.
“For the love of God, Harper, stop wiggling.”
“Just let me… Oh.” He was hard. She felt him through the incredibly thin gym shorts, nestled against the juncture of her thighs. “Luke?”
“Just give me a minute,” he muttered.
“You sound mad,” she whispered.
“Harper!” He barked her name, and she felt him twitch against her. He sighed. His breath was a warm breeze on her neck. “Okay. Get up.”
He pushed himself off the floor and pulled her up by the elbow. Harper set about yanking her underwear back into place with one hand while trying to cover her breasts with the other arm.
“What’s the point, Harp? I’ve already seen it all.” He looked annoyed.
“Fine.” She dropped her arm and put her hands on her hips. “You’re this mad because I climbed up on the counter?”
His gaze flickered up to her face and back down again. Harper set her jaw. “Eyes up here, buddy.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”
“Why are you so pissed?”
“Fuck it.” He grabbed her—again by the waistband of her underwear—and yanked her against him.
They stood that way, mouths a breath apart, for a second and then another one.
Harper moved first. She brought her hands to his shoulders.
When he didn’t move, she rose on tiptoe and slowly brought her lips to his.
His mouth, like the rest of him, was hard.
His hands moved, splaying across her back and pulling her tighter as his mouth moved in deeper. Harper’s head tilted back to accommodate the assault. His tongue forced her mouth open wider. She surrendered to him. He tasted, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders.
He shoved her back against the fridge, his lips never breaking contact. Harper let her hands slide under his tank top. He helped her tug it over his head and moved back in.
Her nipples pebbled against his warm skin. She could feel his heart pounding under the phoenix tattoo. Hers drummed a matching staccato beat.
She nibbled on his lower lip, and he inhaled sharply. Luke skimmed his hands up her sides to cup the undersides of her breasts. She sighed against him, and his thumbs brushed over her sensitive peaks.
The delicate torture made her ache for him. She slid her hand in the waistband of his mesh shorts and wrapped her fingers around his shaft.
“Harper.” It was half groan and half warning.
She stroked his erection down to the thick root and back to the tip. He lowered his forehead to hers trying to catch his breath. His hands stilled on her breasts.
Boldly, she stroked him again. His fingers tightened around her nipples, tugging and teasing. Harper felt moisture bead at the tip of his penis. She wiped it against her stomach, smearing the wetness on her skin.
Luke abandoned a breast and brought his fingertips to her center, forcing her thighs apart with a knee. He ran two fingers over the damp fabric of her underwear, and Harper felt her world go gray. She ached for those fingers to be deep inside her, driving her need.
He skimmed over the fabric, back and forth in time to Harper’s strokes. When his thumb brushed her nipple again, Harper thought she would come apart.
On a growl, Luke tugged the cotton to the side and cupped her. His warm fingers pressed against her wet center. He hitched her leg over his hip to give him better access. Spread open to him, she welcomed the pressure of his rough hand.
He bent his knees, lowering his mouth to her breast.
With the new angle, Harper rubbed the tip of his shaft against her bare core.
He suckled with an intensity that had Harper’s knees shaking. Her strokes became shorter and harder, notching him against her sex.
So close. Just an inch lower and?—
The doorbell broke through their haze.
Luke’s hands froze on her flesh and then disappeared as he hastily stepped back. He swore, readjusting the waistband of his shorts to pin down his hard-on.
“It’s Frank. He’s riding with me to the meeting.” Luke wiped a hand over his face. “Shit.”
Harper sagged against the cold metal of the refrigerator, her breasts heaving as she tried to catch her breath.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and lowered his forehead to hers. “I need you to go upstairs. Now.”
Harper nodded but didn’t move. He sighed and grabbed his tank top off the floor. “Come on, let’s cover you up.” Yanking it over her head, he pulled it down her torso. The deep armholes did little to cover her breasts, but at least her nipples were hidden from view.
Luke tugged her underwear back in place, and Harper shivered when his fingers brushed her sensitive flesh.
He grabbed her by the back of the neck and yanked her to him. He looked like he wanted to say something but instead gave her a hard kiss on the mouth. “Now get upstairs before I let Frank in.”
Harper nodded and hurried to the stairs at the front of the house, careful not to look out the sidelights to see if Frank was witnessing her walk of shame.
Luke waited until she made it into the bedroom before opening the door.
She heard Frank snicker. “Am I interrupting, boss?”
What the hell was wrong with him? He had been nothing but clear with her—and himself—and this is how he played it. Ripping her off the kitchen counter and practically banging her against the fridge.
Great, and now he was hard again like he had been most of the day.
He was avoiding the office like the plague because he knew as soon as he saw her, he’d want to do it all over again and more. Frank was yammering on next to him about the job, and he hadn’t heard a word of it.
Was he going to get a hard-on every time he went to the kitchen for a beer now?
This was supposed to be a simple, uncomplicated arrangement. He gave her a job and a place to stay, and she played a role. But obviously that role was getting tangled up for both of them. He was going to have to set things straight. Set boundaries.
How was he supposed to sleep next to her tonight without tearing that white t-shirt off her and slamming his cock into her now that he’d tasted her?
“Are you even listening to me?” Frank was staring at him expectantly.
Luke gritted his teeth. “Just handle it, Frank. I have to go.”
“Women make you stupid,” Frank warned him as he climbed into his truck.
“Ain’t that the truth,” Luke muttered under his breath as he threw the truck in reverse. Now where the hell was he supposed to go? There was no way he was going to go into the office. One look at her with those soft curves and sweet lips and he was going to bend her over his desk and?—
“God damn it.” He punched the steering wheel. Frank was right. Harper was making him stupid. He never should have let her stay. He should have helped her find a nice little apartment on the other side of town where he’d never see her dancing naked on the kitchen counter.
What if Frank hadn’t interrupted this morning? What if he had just shredded her underwear and slammed into her tight, hot?—
His hands tightened on the wheel as his cock got even harder. His brain was full of reasons why it was a bad idea. But his body wasn’t interested in listening to a single one of them.
What if he just stopped thinking about it? Let it happen? The attraction was obviously mutual. He remembered the heat in those deep gray eyes as he touched her. The girl couldn’t hide anything if she wanted to. Those eyes would always give her away.
If he gave in, he knew it would be fucking crazy. Just the way she responded to his touch, like she craved it more than oxygen. Could Harper handle it if it were just sex? Would it be just sex?
He shook his head. She deserved better than a quick, casual fuck.
And he knew with a dark certainty that when he was inside her it would be anything but just sex. It would be a fucking religious experience, and he wasn’t ready for that.
Even if it was just temporary. He was leaving and soon. That should be reason enough to keep his dick in his pants. So why in the hell did it feel like a better reason to do it ?
He wasn’t even stupid enough to pretend that he didn’t want it more than he wanted his next breath. If she lived in that house with him, slept in the bed next to him, it was only a matter of time before he lost control.
But for now he needed distance. And the longest, coldest fucking shower in the history of man.