Chapter 4 Harlan
Harlan
With champagne flutes in hand, we head to the balcony—alone. It’s deserted out here, and I’m over the moon because I’m eager to gobble up more time with her then find the perfect moment for a kiss.
After that, I’m hoping we can kick it up more than a few notches at my place or hers. I’ve got a feeling Katie is game for that too.
I clink my glass to hers. “To weddings.”
“To wedding kisses,” she adds.
Yup. Perfect night.
I take a drink and she does too. We set our glasses on the terrace wall at the same moment, then she puts her pink purse next to them.
“You truly can’t beat this view,” she declares as she gazes at the ocean. “I’ll miss San Francisco.”
“Wait. Hold on. Are you leaving the city?”
Quickly, she shakes her head. “I mean if I leave. I’d miss it. That’s what I meant to say.”
I arch a dubious brow. “Are you sure? Are you Cinderella, planning to take off at the stroke of midnight?”
She laughs, a buoyant sound that kind of turns me on. “I promise I’ll leave behind a glass slipper if I do.”
My eyes coast down to her shoes. “They’re silver, Katie. Not quite glass.”
“But close enough?” she asks, like she’s hoping the answer is yes.
“Do you want to be Cinderella?”
“I have no desire to be in a fairy tale.” Her eyes flicker with hints of naughtiness. Or maybe I’m just seeing my own wishes reflected back. “Unless…it’s the dirty kind.”
Ah, and naughty hope wins the night. I step closer, brushing her hair off her shoulder. She trembles, and I don’t think it’s from the night air. “And now we’re talking the same language.”
I savor the anticipation in this moment.
The moment before.
There is little I love more than teasing a woman, than drawing out the high of expectation.
I play with her hair, running the strands through my fingers, then dart my thumb to her cheek, stroking a soft line across her jaw.
She breathes a shuddery sigh, and I inch closer but still don’t touch. I wait, staring at those glossy pink lips.
Katie lifts her chin slightly. “My language says kiss me. What does yours say?”
I slide my palm over her shoulder, then down her bare arm. Goose bumps rise in its wake. “Same, but a gentleman should ask, Katie,” I say. “May I kiss you?”
“Get your lips on mine.”
“You’re my kind of woman,” I tell her, then I shut the fuck up. I close my eyes and brush my lips across hers.
A jolt of pleasure slides down my spine as I taste her—lip gloss and sweetness and a hint of champagne.
Sugar and sparkles.
So damn fitting.
I start slow, exploring her lips with a gentle sweep of mine, letting the moment expand, enjoying every sensation—from the hitch in her breath, to the jut of her hips, to her soft hands traveling up my chest.
I cup her cheek, running my thumb along her face, then I thread my hands into her hair. Soft strands slide through my fingers as I flick my tongue across the seam of her mouth, pressing a little harder.
She parts her lips, inviting me in.
Her eager hands fall to my hips, and in one swift move, she jerks me against her.
Yes, ma’am.
Wrapping a hand around the back of her head, I draw her lips close and her body closer. As we kiss, my other hand skims down her back to her ass.
I squeeze, savoring the handful of flesh.
This full-body kiss causes my bones to hum.
She makes the sexiest sounds—little murmurs and sighs as our tongues get to know each other.
Katie kisses like she talks—flirty, fiery, and full of sass.
She doesn’t simply relax as I take the lead.
She kisses back all hard and rough, and I love it.
Love it even more when she draws my bottom lip between hers, then nips me.
It’s like a zap of pleasure.
We break apart for a second. “Do I have a biter in my arms?” I ask.
Her eyes blaze with a yes. “Maybe a little. Promise I won’t hurt you, Harlan,” she says, a little coy.
“Maybe I like a little hurt. A nibble here or there would do the trick.”
She tests me by running her lips along my jaw, then nipping. A sizzle of pleasure shoots through me.
“Oh yes,” I rasp as I grab her ass harder.
With a throaty purr, her lips journey up my neck, peppering me with hungry kisses. When she reaches my ear, she nips on the lobe, then lets out a little roar like a lioness.
I believe I have met my match.
She’s the fire to my fire. I want all her passion, and I want to give her every ounce of mine.
I let go, back her up against the terrace edge, and meet her heated gaze. “You like it the same way, sweetheart?” I ask, my voice low and smoky.
“Seems I do,” she says, reaching her hands around my neck, playing with the ends of my hair as I crowd her against the stone railing, my whole frame lined up with hers.
So she can feel me.
Know how aroused I am.
Experience what she’s done to me.
I slide my hands down her sides, savoring her curves—enjoying, too, the wild look in her eyes as I touch her body.
She shudders, and the sound urges me on.
I drop my lips to the hollow of her throat where I can lick, kiss, suck.
As I move along her sweet-and-spicy skin to her collarbone, I graze my teeth over her flesh.
“Ohhhh,” she says on a shiver, trembling in my arms.
I nip a little harder, push my pelvis against her, meeting her move for move, moan for moan, giving as good as she gave.
Tit for tat.
Speaking of…
Letting go of her hip, I roam a hand upward over the pink silk, then up a little higher, then higher still.
Katie gasps—a needy, sexy sound.
A lovely plea inviting me to indulge.
So I do, cupping a breast, filling my hand. I squeeze, and she lets go of my mouth, tosses her head back, and moans against the night, “You.”
Indeed.
I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you very much.
But I want more. I want to please this woman to the stars and back. It’s my kink, my passion, my pleasure. Giving.
“Katie, tell me what you want to do tonight,” I murmur. I don’t want to lead her into temptation. I want her to find it from within.
She pouts. “I want you to take me home, spread me out on my bed, and do dirty things to me all night long.”
Yes, there is a God.
“Taxi,” I say, then bring my fingers to my lips like I’m about to whistle for one.
“But…”
That word is the door slamming on all my wedding fantasies. “Aww, why does there have to be a ‘but’ when I want to deliver everything you want?”
She smiles softly, but sadly too. “I have to leave soon. My sister, Olive, is flying in tonight, and I need to pick her up in an hour. We have a meeting tomorrow morning for a new business venture.”
That sounds exciting.
And thoroughly cock-blocking.
But if I’ve learned one thing playing pro ball, it’s that the play doesn’t always go the way you planned. Sometimes your quarterback hands off so you can run with the ball. Sometimes he calls an audible and passes. Your success depends on how quickly you react to the action on the field.
“Let’s see, then,” I say, because I can react damn quickly. “It’s Thursday night now. I’m on game lockdown Friday through Sunday. I have a sponsor event Monday night. How’s Tuesday?”
She blinks, taking a second to catch up to my question. But she quickly does, and her blue eyes twinkle.
To be sure, though, I add, “By ‘Tuesday,’ I mean I’m asking you on a date. I want to take you out on the town. Have a good time with you. Then do to you all those decadent things that are racing through my head right now.”
Katie’s nimble fingers make their way up my tie.
She tugs, yanking me closer. “Tell me one naughty thing. Wait. Hold on. Tell me where you’re going to take me out first,” she says, letting go of my tie to run her palms down my chest, covering my pecs.
“Then you can tell me something deliciously dirty.”
Oh, I like the way her mind works. She knows her worth.
My fingers wander across her stomach, making playful circles as I answer. “I bet you’d like to do something a little competitive, a little showy.”
Her eyebrows rise. “I’m showy? You think I’m showy?”
“I sure do, and I think it’s sexy as hell. Now, let me finish, woman.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine, fine. Finish.”
I tap my chin like I’m deep in thought. “I could take you out bowling, ballroom dancing, or to play my second-favorite sport.”
“Sex is your second-favorite sport?” She bats her lashes ever so innocently.
I toss my head back, laughing. “Sweetheart, sex is not a sport. For it to be a sport, it would require rules, regulations, and competition. And sex should never be a competition.”
“What is it, then?”
I don’t answer right away, but shoot her a sly, knowing grin. Then I speak the truth from the bottom of my heart…and cock. “Sex is a devotion, ideally to the woman’s pleasure.”
She murmurs her approval. “Ultimate Charmer. That’s you.”
“I will wear that title with pride. Now, as I was saying, my second-favorite sport. Want to know what that is?”
“You know I do.”
“It’s only one letter different from the one I play for a living…” I trail off, eager to see how quickly she’ll figure it out.
She furrows her brow, and then one, two seconds, later, her eyes pop. “Foosball! I love foosball.” She pokes my chest. “Bowling and foosball, pretty please. Then…devotion,” she says, all low and seductive, like a phone sex operator.
“Tuesday night, Katie. It is on.” I haul her in for another hot, passionate kiss, and we seal our plans for the best kind of date. I swallow her sighs, devouring her sounds.
Maybe I’m a player. Maybe I came here tonight with my one-track mind on a mission. And yes, I desperately want to get Katie naked and writhing under me, but I’m also having a fantastic time talking to her.
I’ve got a feeling with her, one I’ve never had before.
A feeling that there’s something brewing.
Something that sparks with fresh and daring possibilities.
But tonight, the clock is ticking, so I break the kiss. “When do you need to go, sweetheart?”
She reaches for her purse from the wall, clicks it open, and takes out her phone. “I should leave in fifteen minutes.” Her blue irises flicker with mischief. “You know, there’s a lot we can do in fifteen minutes.”
How did I get so lucky and this woman so amazing?
I must have been a very good boy in a past life.