Chapter 45
HARLOW
“What the hell am I doing?” I ask myself as I sit outside the gate in Spencer’s driveway.
I should put the car in reverse and back the hell away from this bad decision, but the gates open, which means he already knows I’m here.
“Fuck,” I curse, squeezing my eyes shut.
Shaking my head, I drive forward and up the long driveway. I park beside an unfamiliar blue vehicle, my stomach dropping.
He’s not alone.
He wouldn’t have buzzed me in if he’s here with a woman, right?
Why wouldn’t he? You have Jameson and he comes around when he’s there, what would be the big deal for you to be around a woman he’s seeing?
My thoughts are spiraling in a million directions, but I’m already here and he knows it, so I might as well get my shit together and head inside. I grab my bag off the passenger seat and sling it over my shoulder. Since the garage doors are closed, I head to the front door and press the bell.
“Why the hell are you here, Harlow?” I ask myself, crossing my arms over my chest.
The door opens and I’m met with a shirtless and sweaty Spencer. A pair of workout shorts hang so low on his hips that I’m certain he’s not wearing any underwear underneath.
Oh my god, I totally caught him in the middle of sex.
“I’m so sorry,” I blurt. “I can … uh … see that you’re busy.” I turn around, ready to make a hasty departure, but his hand closes around my elbow.
“What’s up?” he asks, clearly out of breath still. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
I look up at the sky, not wanting to look at him when he’s in this … state. I wonder where the woman is, if she’s still inside waiting for me to leave or if he told her to go out through the garage.
“It’s okay. I’m interrupting … something and I’m sorry. It’s my bad.”
“Interrupting something?” When I force myself to look at him, I find his brows furrowed. “I promise you’re not. We were just finishing up.”
I flinch. “Right. Okay. I’m just going to go. It’s no biggie.”
He chuckles, clearly amused. “I don’t know what has you so spooked.”
Does he need to spell it out for him?
I gesture to his barely clothed, sweaty body. “You’re clearly with a woman and I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m not even sure what brought me here in the first place,” I admit, ducking my head.
His peals of laughter have me raising my head. He has his head thrown back, his entire body shaking.
Sobering, he says, “My personal trainer is here. We were just finishing up in the gym when I got the alert on my phone that you were here.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” He grins, planting his hands on his hips. The gesture has his shorts dipping even lower in the front and I force myself to keep my gaze on his face. “You gonna come in now?” He gestures with his thumb over his shoulder.
I swallow my embarrassment down. “I might as well.”
“Mhm,” he hums, clearly amused by this whole thing. “Might as well,” he echoes.
I follow him into the house and at least this time I manage not to openly gawk at the beautiful home.
He heads for the kitchen and fills a glass of water. “Thirsty?” he asks me.
“I’m okay.” I slide onto the stool.
“What brings you to Malibu?” he asks, amusement coloring his tone.
“You.” No point in lying. There’s no other reason for me to be here.
He drinks about half of the glass of water and sets it down. “I have to say I’m honestly more than a little surprised to see you here alone after…” He trails off, fingers lazily drifting through the air to convey that I need to fill in the blanks, which is easy enough.
“I’m surprised, too,” I admit. “My mom offered to take Roe for the day so I could catch up on schoolwork and I found myself here instead.”
“Interesting.” He taps his blunt nails against the side of the glass.
Steps sound behind me, and I turn to find a good-looking man with wavy blond hair. He’s probably in his thirties, maybe around thirty-five, with a kind smile.
“Everything’s cleaned up and I’m going to head out.”
“Thanks, Sean.” Spencer steps away from the counter to clasp hands with the man. “Oh.” He turns to me. “Let me introduce you to my … Harlow.”
“Hi.” I shake hands with the man. He’s tall—even taller than Jameson and Spencer. “Nice to meet you.”
“Sean is my personal trainer,” Spencer offers, but I’ve already put the pieces together.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Sean says, letting go of my hand and stepping back. He sends a grin Spencer’s way.
“Well, she is the mother of my child,” Spencer mutters softly, a blush staining his cheeks.
Sean’s grin only grows. “I’ll talk to you later,” he says. “It was good to finally meet you.” He nods his head in my direction before he leaves the kitchen.
Neither of us speak until we hear the garage door close.
“You talk about me, huh?” I tease.
Spencer sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Of course I do.”
“Why?” I’m not trying to be accusatory. I’m truly curious. Why hasn’t he been able to let go and move on?
He shrugs. “Like I said, you’re Roe’s mom.”
“But that’s not why you talk about me, is it?” I press further.
He looks like he wishes a hole would open and swallow him. “You already know the answer.”
“I want to hear you say it,” I breathe.
I’m playing with fire, but the problem is I want to get burned.
This is a dangerous game, one I should know better than to indulge in.
All the things that had me call things off with Spencer in the past still exist. He’s an actor now.
He’s famous on a level I can’t comprehend, and his career is still relatively new.
There’s no telling where things might continue to go for him.
I don’t like that lifestyle. I don’t want that for Monroe.
But I … I can no longer deny that my feelings for him have never went away, and somehow in my attempt to ignore them, they’ve grown bigger instead.
Simmering somewhere I didn’t even know they existed and that kiss has unleashed them.
He steps closer to me, grazing his finger over my cheek.
“I talk about you, because even this many years later, you still consume me. You owned my heart when I was seventeen and I’ve never gotten it back.
I don’t want it back. It’s yours and it’ll always be yours, even if I’m not.
” I hold my breath as he gently brushes some of my hair behind my ear.
He leaves his hand there, cupping my cheek and I can’t help but lean into his touch.
“I’m sure most think I’m absolutely insane for not moving on, and I’ve tried, but when you’ve had the best there’s no replacing it. ”
“Spencer.” Tears burn my eyes. “Be serious, how many people find the love of their life in high school?”
His eyes widen and he taps a hand over his heart. “I did, Harlow. I did.”
I believe him, I really do, and the thing I don’t want to admit is I think I did too.
I’m not sure who reaches for who first, but suddenly I’m in his arms with my legs wrapped around his waist. We’re a tangle of mouths and tongues and arms as he carries me away from the kitchen.
He acts as if I weigh nothing as he goes up the stairs with me in his arms. He pushes a door open down the hall and carries me over to the bed, never breaking the kiss.
He settles his big body over top of mine, the hard and insistent press of his cock pushing against me.
I reach for his shorts, but he’s quick to grab my hands, pinning them above me. His mattress feels like heaven beneath me, soft and luxurious and perfect.
He doesn’t release my hands from his hold even as he kisses his way down my neck and over my collarbone. My t-shirt has ridden up, exposing my stomach, and he pays attention to that bare skin next.
He looks up at me and the intensity in his blue eyes holds me captive. “What are we doing, Harlow?”
“I-I don’t know,” I gasp, squirming in his hold.
He wets his lips with his tongue, looking me over. Something wars behind his eyes and I desperately wish I could know what he’s thinking.
“But I know I want you,” I add. “I know I shouldn’t. I know this makes me a horrible person.”
“You’re still with Jameson.” It’s a statement, not a question, and I hear the blatant annoyance in his tone.
“Yes.” The word comes out as a broken gasp.
He closes his eyes, and I expect him to be the smart one of the two of us. To tell me he can’t, in good conscience, do what we both know is about to happen.
But instead, he shakes his head and says, “If I was a better person I’d throw you out right now, but I fucking can’t. Forgive me, because if this is my last chance I have to be with you, then I’m fucking taking it.”
His mouth is on mine again and I practically melt into his kiss.
Somehow, he’s even better at it than he was when we were together, but I suppose he’s kissed many co-stars, and despite what he’s said about not sleeping with anyone, that doesn’t mean he hasn’t gone on dates and kissed other women.
I shove thoughts of them out of my mind and focus on the here and now.
On how my body responds to the flow of us, how we’ve always matched each other perfectly and even years apart hasn’t dimmed that connection.
My lips feel swollen and puffy by the time he lets go of my hands and slides down my body. He pops the button on my shorts and slides them down my hips and off my legs. He grins at my panties, a yellow pair with a sun embroidered on the hip.
“Cute.” He loops his fingers in the sides and yanks them down. “But I want them gone.”
When they’re off, he tosses them, and they land on the lampshade on his dresser.
“Open wider for me, baby,” he commands, urging me to spread my legs.
I oblige and whimper as he settles between them, his big shoulders forcing my legs open even more.
“Fuck,” he growls, gently spreading the folds of my pussy. “Look how pretty and wet you are.” I whimper at the praise. “You want me to lick this pussy?”
I nod vigorously. “Yes. Please. God, yes.”
He grins. “I think I like it when you beg.”