Harlow
She walked into the bar and noticed that the place was empty. She spotted Wade behind the bar, cleaning a glass, and when he looked up at her, she thought her heart might stop. He looked so angry, and so fucking handsome, she nearly lost her ability to speak.
“What?” he asked.
“You’ve been avoiding me for weeks now. You don’t even say two words to me when I’m here working, not even as my boss, and I’m sick of it, Wade,” she insisted.
“You want to talk, so talk,” he said. “You should just tell me that you’re done with me, and I’ll accept it. If you want to keep working here until you find something else, I’d be fine with that too,” he said.
“What makes you think that I’m going to be done with you, Wade?” she asked.
“You just said that you’re sick of me,” he reminded.
“No, I said that I was sick of the silent treatment that you’ve been giving me. But I’m not done with you. I’ve taken three weeks, hoping that you’d figure out how you feel about me, but I decided weeks ago what I want.”
His brows drew together. “What do you want, Harlow?” he asked.
“I want you, Wade,” she breathed.
“When did you make that decision?” he asked.
“Probably a few days after I moved in with Butcher and Princess. I was angry at first, but I knew that leaving you was a mistake, not that you gave me much choice,” she reminded.
“And you've been making me suffer for three fucking weeks?” he asked.
Her mouth fell open. “Making you suffer?” she asked.
“Yeah, you’ve made me suffer, Harlow,” he said.
“You're the one who pushed me away! You’re the one who said that I needed space,” she said.
“I gave you space to figure out what you wanted,” he insisted.
“You gave me space because you were afraid that I’d leave you eventually. You didn’t give me the benefit of the doubt and let me figure out that I was right where I belonged. You pushed me away and ignored me.”
“I was trying not to pressure you,” he insisted.
“You barely even looked at me over the past three weeks,” she breathed. “You made me feel invisible and unimportant.”
Wade stared at her. “Harlow, I've spent three weeks trying not to drag you into my office every time you walked behind that bar. You definitely were not invisible to me.”
She blinked up at him. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh,” he breathed.
Heat spread through her, and she shook her head. “You could've told me.”
“Well, you could have told me that you made your decision,” he said.
They stared at each other, and Harlow laughed. “We're terrible at this,” she said.
“Apparently,” he breathed. His expression turned serious. “Do you really want me?”
Harlow reached for his hand. “I want you.” Wade went still.
“I want to work at your bar. I want your terrible attitude.
I want you telling me I've over poured a drink when we both know I did it on purpose.” His mouth twitched.
“I want the man who slept in a chair in the bedroom because I was scared.” His fingers tightened around hers.
“I want the man who gave me a job when I told him I needed to earn my own money.
And I want the idiot who pushed me away because he was so determined to make sure I had a choice that he nearly convinced me he didn't want me anymore.”
Wade winced. “Yeah. That was fucked up. But I should warn you that I’ll probably fuck up again, Harlow,” he admitted.
She stepped closer. “I’m aware,” she said. “But I had three weeks at Butcher's house to think, and I realized that I don't need you, Wade.”
Something flickered across his face. Harlow smiled. “I choose you.” His breath left him. “There's a difference.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said.
“I could stay with Butcher and Princess.”
“I know,” he said.
“I could find somewhere else eventually, and I could walk away from you.” His jaw tightened. “But I don't want to.” That was all it took. Wade pulled her against him and kissed her. Three weeks of distance disappeared in seconds.
When he finally lifted his head, Harlow was breathless. “I love you,” he said.
She smiled. “I love you too.”
His forehead dropped against hers. Then, because he was still Wade, he said, “You're coming home with me tonight. I’ll pack your shit myself if I have to.”
Harlow laughed. “Bossy asshole.”
“You've been living with my Prez for three weeks. I'm taking my woman home.”
“Your woman?” she asked.
His expression changed. “You got a problem with that?”
Harlow pretended to think and smiled at him. “No. I do not have a problem with being your woman.”
“Good,” he said.
“But I'm packing my own bag,” she insisted.
“Fine,” he said.
“And I'm telling Princess myself,” she said.
“Fine,” he breathed.
“And you're not ordering me around the entire time,” she added.
Wade stared at her. “Let's not get fucking ridiculous.”
Harlow laughed as he wrapped her in his arms. She was finally going home, and she couldn’t wait to start her new forever with Wade.
That night, Harlow stood in Wade's bedroom again. Only this time, she wasn't there because she had nowhere else to go. Her bag sat beside the dresser. Princess had hugged her before she'd left and whispered, “Took you long enough.”
Butcher had shaken Wade's hand, then told him not to screw it up again. Harlow had laughed the entire way to Wade's truck. Now, she wasn't laughing, because Wade had closed the bedroom door behind them, and the look on his face made heat rush through every inch of her.
Three weeks—three fucking weeks she'd wanted him. Three weeks of seeing him at the bar. Three weeks of pretending she didn't notice him watching her. Three weeks without his hands on her, his mouth on her lips, or his body beside hers at night.
Wade leaned against the closed door. “You sure?” Harlow smiled at that question. He always asked that question—even when his eyes were dark with need. Even when his hands were clenched at his sides, like keeping them off her required actual effort.
“Yes, I’m sure,” she said.
“You could stay with Princess longer,” he offered.
“I know,” she breathed.
“You don't have to move back just because we're together,” he said.
“I know,” she said. “Wade.”
“What?” he asked.
“Shut up,” she whispered. Harlow crossed the room, and his eyebrows rose.
“That's how we're starting this?” he asked.
“Yes.” She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled his mouth down to hers.
Wade lasted about half a second before his control snapped.
His arms wrapped around her, dragging her against the solid length of his body.
Harlow gasped into his mouth. There was no careful distance, no polite Wade, and no pretending he didn't want her.
His kiss was hungry and demanding. It was everything she'd spent three weeks missing.
Harlow threaded her fingers into his hair and kissed him back just as hard.
Wade made a rough sound deep in his chest. “Fuck, I missed you.”
“Then show me,” she challenged.
His hands tightened at her waist. “Harlow.”
“What?” she breathed.
“You've got about two seconds to stop saying shit like that,” he warned.
She smiled against his mouth. “Or what?” she asked.
“Woman,” he growled, grabbing her ass with both hands.
“That's not an answer.” Wade kissed her again, and Harlow's back met the door.
The impact wasn't hard, but the sudden press of Wade's body against her stole her breath.
His hands settled on her hips—warm and strong.
They were possessive without trapping her.
His mouth moved from her lips to her jaw, and then lower.
The scrape of his beard against the sensitive skin of her neck sent a shiver through her.
“Wade.”
His mouth stilled. “Good?”
She swallowed. “Very.”
“You sure?” he asked.
Harlow caught his face between her hands and pulled him back to her mouth. “Does that answer you?”
“Getting there,” he breathed. She laughed as his mouth returned to her neck. He took his time, almost as if he was teasing her. Harlow tipped her head, giving him more room, and Wade took advantage. His beard scratched her skin while his lips followed the curve beneath her ear.
She gripped his shoulders. “God.”
“Been thinking about this for three weeks,” he admitted.
“This specifically?” she asked.
“This.” Another kiss against her neck. “This.” His hand slid along her waist. “And a whole lot of shit I'm trying really hard not to say right now.”
Harlow laughed breathlessly. “Your restraint is touching.”
“Keep laughing,” he whispered.
“Is that a threat?” she asked.
“Promise.” His teeth grazed lightly over the place where her neck met her shoulder, and Harlow's laughter disappeared. Wade pulled back, and the satisfaction on his face made her narrow her eyes.
“Don't look so smug,” she said.
“Can't help it,” he admitted.
“Asshole,” she breathed.
“Yep.” Harlow pushed her hands beneath the hem of his shirt. Wade's stomach tightened beneath her palms. She slowly moved them higher over his warm skin and hard muscle. The familiar roughness of scars she hadn't had nearly enough time to memorize yet. Wade went very still, and Harlow smiled.
“Problem?” she asked.
“Keep touching me and find out,” he growled.
“That sounded like encouragement,” she teased.
“It fucking was.” She pushed his shirt higher, and Wade caught the back of it and pulled it over his head.
Harlow's mouth went dry. She'd seen him like this before and touched him before.
She had slept beside him and made love with him, but none of that mattered.
Three weeks apart had apparently reset her ability to handle a shirtless Wade.
His tattoos stretched over muscle. Dark hair covered part of his chest. His beard made him look dangerous, and the way he was staring at her made him look hungrier.
Harlow put her palm flat against his chest, and his heartbeat pounded beneath it—fast.
She looked up. “You're nervous.”
“Nope,” he said.
“Your heart says otherwise,” she pointed out.
“Not nervous,” he insisted.
“What then?” Wade caught her hand and pressed it harder against his chest.