Chapter 34
Lark
“I don’t understand.”
Water pours on me, soaking my hair, my skin, all of me as steam billows in the air. Tears fall like the rain in the shower, blending in and streaming over me to the drain. It doesn’t matter how wet my body is, I’m desperate to wash the betrayal of my friend down the drain. I don’t understand.
I reach for the body wash, but I have no energy for such tasks. I should have taken a bath where I sunk under the water and disappeared. But Harbor needs my help, so I clean myself and wash my hair at his insistence. His theory is that showers always make you feel better. I’m not convinced.
I finish and dry off. With the towel wrapped around me, I hold the pieces together and open the door.
Harbor’s lying on the bed in his underwear.
Resting with pillows under his head and shoulders, he has one leg bent while an ice pack covers some of his ribs on the other side of his body.
His gaze goes from the TV to me, and he asks, “How was the shower?”
“Am I wrong for feeling like this?” I glance out the window to the lights beyond and then drop my head into my hand.
“How do you feel?”
“Lost.” I look up at him, this incredible man, and confess what I should never say to him. “Empty, like I’m being left all over again. It makes me feel like I’m being ridiculous, petty, even though I don’t care about the financial value.”
“Come here.” Propping himself up, he growls when moving and holds his side. I sit down carefully, not wanting to cause him more pain.
Rubbing my back, he runs his fingers lightly over my skin. He catches a drop of water I missed and brings it to his mouth, running it across his bottom lip. Although it seems impossible to think about anything else, my body reacts, sending a shiver over my skin and leaving goose bumps in its wake.
My nipples push against the soft fabric of the towel, so I tighten it as a wave of confusion comes over me. How can I feel this attraction to him when I’m so emotionally drained?
But as I let my gaze run over his body—the muscles creating hills and valleys, hard edges and sharp planes—I realize I feel so much because of him, not in spite of.
He drops the ice pack to the floor and then reaches for my hand tucked against the towel and my chest. His fingers are cold, but a warmth blooms in my chest and begins to spread.
As he unwraps the towel like a present, exposing my body to the heated air and his craving gaze, I drop my eyes to my lap and gulp.
Pressing the palm of his hand to my skin, I suck in a staggered breath. “Look at me, Lark.” I can’t. It’s not him but the conflicting emotions battling inside me. “Hey,” he says, lifting my chin until my eyes reach his. “Don’t ever look down, not ever. You hold your head up and demand respect.”
“I don’t know how to feel. It’s too much and then nothing at all.”
“Because you’re thinking. How does your heart feel?”
He looks at me like he’s the lucky one, but he’s not the lucky one when it comes to us. I am. “Not as lost as my head.”
Sliding his hand down my neck and resting it on my collarbone, he whispers, “How does your body feel?”
“Comforted by your touch,” I whisper in return.
When his hand grazes over my skin and dips between my legs, he doesn’t say anything.
He slides through the slickness of my lips first, and then says, “Your body is feeling, experiencing, reacting. It’s your head that’s doing you in.
” He slides his finger up and down a few times and then rubs gently over my clit.
“Just feel, baby. Relax your mind and listen to your body.”
As if that was the permission I needed, I slowly grind against his hand in reaction. That will only be a temporary high. I need more of him, his hands on my body, and everything at the same time.
Lifting onto my knees, I allow the towel to fall from the bed. I bend over and kiss his ribs gently and then his mouth. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He caresses my cheek and says, “I feel the same about you.”
I don’t doubt the love he has for me. I’ve been doubting myself. I refuse to do it anymore.
Stop thinking.
Just feel.
I crawl all the way onto the bed and move close and straddle him. He catches me by the hips before I’m seated on his lap, and says, “I think it might be better if I’m on top this time, considering this rib situation.”
“Oh no.” I lift and slip off him. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, baby,” he says, his voice deliciously dulcet. “I’m bruised, not broken.”
The light from the bathroom trails across the room, catching us in the tail of it. I maneuver off him and lie down on the mattress instead. My body doesn’t tremble despite having my emotions and weaknesses on display.
His eyes are hooded as if he’s dreaming, and then he kisses me. Is that what I am? A kiss and dream? The rough of his fingertips awakens my skin as he grazes over my shoulder and down my arm, encircling what I imagine is where he really wants to be.
Harbor usually asks how I want to be pleasured. Not this time. Just feel. When he hovers over me and we kiss, a fire is unleashed between us. My legs spread, but he parts them even farther, roughly thumbing over my thighs.
His length is hard and ready to plunge, the sight of him in such a desirous stage causing my body to throb in eager anticipation. I pull him down by his shoulders, and our lips come together as our bodies reunite. He withdraws, and the emptiness instantly returns. “Don’t tease, babe.”
He teases his tip against my entrance. Sexy bastard.
And while his body taunts mine, the hunger in his eyes makes me think this might not be gentle. A hard thrust knocks my head into the padded headboard. Scrambling to find purchase, I fist the sheet with one hand and press the other over my head on the headboard.
Every thrust is more fuel for the fire, sending sparks shooting through my veins and my body coming alive. It’s never less, always more—whether we fuck or make love or like now, both at the same time. He knows how to make me forget everything beyond the two of us.
His abs are taut as he moves over me, my whole body being touched, consumed, loved so deep that my insides clench to hinder the oncoming storm just to keep experiencing this sense of freedom I have with him.
But it’s too much . . . he’s too much. When he pushes harder and moves faster, losing control on top of me, it’s not ecstasy I see. It’s love staring back at me.
Perfection.
Just as the winds of my release pick up, I grapple to hold his shoulders before the onslaught.
It’s too late. Too hard to hold on to that middle ground between the indulgence of the chase to the gratification of the release.
I’m not ready to stop, but my body caves in, my back arching as a moan drifts from my lips.
“Harbor,” rips from my throat, stolen as I’m kissed.
My nails embed as he thrusts until he hits his release and then settles slowly on top of me. “Ow,” he says, and then rolls carefully to the side.
Slowly catching my breath, I swallow to coat my dry throat, and then ask, “Are you okay?”
He chuckles. “That might be the first time I’ve ever been asked that after sex.
” Turning to look at me, a smile, though pained as he touches his side, he adds, “For the record, guys are always great after sex. Doesn’t matter how busted up they are.
It will still be the best fucking high they’ll ever achieve if they’re with the woman they love. ”
Despite his pain, he leans over and kisses my shoulder. “Like I am.”
“Good to know.” I grin and roll to my side to look at him. His hand is light to his side, but his jaw is starting to swell. I reach over and barely touch his face. “It’s swelling.”
He breathes a sigh, more annoyed than upset as he gets up. “That fucking uppercut he landed when I looked away. I’ll put an ice pack on it.”
“I’m sorry.” I push up, resting my weight on a hand to the mattress.
Stopping on the edge of the bed, he looks back at me over his slumped shoulder. “Why are you sorry?” Genuine confusion is laced through his brows.
“Because you wouldn’t be hurt if it weren’t for me.”
He turns away from me, scrubbing his face in his hands and then resting his arms forward on his legs.
“You didn’t cause that fight, Lark. He said what he said, but his grudge goes way back.
We’ve crossed paths before. He didn’t lie about Lucas and me combing his parties for girls.
Hell,” he says, looking back at me again.
This time with a smirk. “We even stole his booze.” He stands as slow as he can, his hand protectively covering his side.
When he turns around, the grin is gone, and I already miss it.
I look away as he says what he needs to get off his chest. “I’m damn sure not pleading a case.
Facts are facts, but I’m telling you, no one in my past matters. ”
As much as I want Harbor not to focus on Dane and what he said, partly because it hurts to know I caused it, but also because I know Harbor would have blown it all off if it didn’t affect him.
“You don’t have to justify your past to me.
” Rolling my head to the side, I ask, “Do you think I would believe him over you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to leave it to chance.”
I slide out of bed and into his arms. “If I were ever forced to choose a side, I’m always choosing you, Harbor. Always. But you know that. So what’s the real reason you’re telling me?”
His head lowers, his gaze taken with it.
Pressing his temple against mine, he stays and inhales.
The rough scruff on his face scratches against my soft cheek, and then I’m granted the warmth of his eyes again.
“Because your so-called friend wants you to believe you’re nothing but another Friday night fuck to me.
You’re not.” Cupping my face, he kisses me and leans his forehead against mine.
“You’re the whole fucking universe. You’re where time begins and ends and every moment in between. ”
I didn’t know it was possible for a heart to soar, but I cover his hands, holding him so tight that he never lets me go, or I just might float away. “I love you,” I whisper, though the words aren’t adequate for how I feel about him.
Our heads straighten, but our eyes reestablish the connection as we stare into each other’s gaze. He says, “I’ll get your brooch back.”
“How?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out.” He kisses me and then whispers against my lips. “I promise you, Lark. One day, you’ll have it back.”
It’s not what he says or even his tone. When his soul made a pact with mine, I knew he’d keep his promise.