25. Jace #2
The soft pitter patter of rain on the canvas roof drags me from sleep.
I fight it, too warm and content, not ready for it to be over.
Not ready for this bubble we created to pop, and the real world to re-enter.
Harper is still asleep. Her chestnut hair on display as it fans out around her head.
Burying my face in it, I breathe in her scent.
It’s still dark out, but no longer pitch black, telling me dawn is on its way.
Neither of us slept much, waking up all through the night, insatiable in our need to claim one another again and again.
I know she will want to be home when Lizzie wakes up.
My cock is ready for her again, but after how many times we came together, I worry she will be sore.
Fuck, I hope she is just a little. I want her reminded of me every time she moves, with every twinge of discomfort bringing back the memory of the pleasure we found together.
Slipping beneath the blankets, I find her center already wet and ready for me.
Gently, I begin running my tongue through her folds, loving the way she reacts even in sleep.
A soft moaning reaches my ears, and I smile into her pussy, loving that I get to wake her up like this.
Soon, her hands are in my hair, and her hips are undulating, riding my face.
In no time, she comes. Not loud with screams like so many times last night, but moaning my name, a litany on her lips, over and over.
For the second time in my adult life, I come in my pants, reveling in what she can do to me.
“Good morning to you, too, Jace.” She laughs when she can breathe again. Crawling up her body, I find her lips.
“Good morning, beautiful. It’s early, but I thought you might want to get home before Lizzie wakes up.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t wake me with an orgasm. I’m not sure my legs will work after last night.”
With a self-satisfied smile on my face, I pull her to me, rolling us, loving the way her body molds to mine, like it was made to be with me. Eventually, we get up and dress, never going long between touching or kissing.
“Harper,” I stop her as she starts folding blankets, tidying the tent, “let me take care of that later. I want you to be home when Lizzie wakes.”
“You’re too good to us, Jace.” Popping up on her tiptoes, she kisses me with her arms wrapped around my neck.
On the drive home, I remember something about our conversation from the night before.
“Hey, babe,” I bring her hand that’s clasped in mine to my lips for a quick kiss, “last night, you mentioned not being allowed to study what you wanted in college. What did you want to study, and what did you actually study? I don’t think you’ve mentioned that ever. ”
“Photography,” she says almost dreamily. “I was obsessed with photography in high school. Not necessarily with photographing people, you know, for family pictures and stuff. I wanted to photograph nature, or people in candid situations. I wanted to tell a story from behind the lens.”
“That wasn't an acceptable career path?” I ask, genuinely surprised.
“No, I wasn’t raised to actually want a job or career. I was supposed to be a little Stepford wife—prim, proper, and educated in the arts, but not actually perform or be employed in them. I was allowed to study art history and theory.” She rolls her eyes at that.
“I would not have fit in your world.” I shake my head, trying to imagine growing up like that.
“Good!” She laughs, scooting closer, and I’m very glad I drive a truck, so there is nothing between us.
“My turn,” she chimes happily. “Your tattoos. First, I’m obsessed, but when did you get your first? And do they have any significance or meaning?”
“Let’s see…I got my first tattoo, the one on my chest, when I was sixteen.”
“What? Your parents were okay with that?” she gasps.
“Not even a little! My mom was furious.” I laugh, remembering.
“My buddy and I got fake IDs and did it without telling her. She didn’t find out for over eight months.
Until we went to the lake, and like an idiot, I forgot and took off my shirt in front of her.
She stormed across the dock and smacked my chest hard. I made it worse by laughing.”
“Oh, I can imagine.” Harper laughs, too. “What was so important about getting one that you went to all that trouble to get it instead of waiting until you were eighteen?”
“My best friend’s older brother had some struggles.
He had bipolar disorder and they had been trying some new medications for it, but he didn’t tolerate them well and ended up taking his own life.
” Harper sucks in a breath, moving closer somehow, squeezing my hand.
“It was rough, and Jackson wanted to get a memorial tattoo on the anniversary of his death. Lee, his brother, had always loved Greek Mythology, so we both got a Trident on our chest to match the one he had gotten on his eighteenth birthday. Mom was pissed that I had marred my, according to her, perfect beautiful skin, but when she recognized it, she burst into tears, hugging me. Then smacking the back of my head saying, ‘It’s a beautiful tribute, you little shit!’”
“I think I would like your mom.” Harper laughs, just as my phone chimes. It’s in a holder on the dash, and when it lights up showing three missed calls and six texts, she gasps, grabbing my phone.
“Speak of the devil.” I laugh, seeing the word Mom flash on the screen.
“Jace! Are you ignoring your mom? What if it’s an emergency?”
“It’s not.” I laugh, I can’t help it, she’s so riled up.
“They want to make sure I’m going to be at our family dinner next weekend.
We have one every month at my folks’ house in Washington, and I have missed the last few.
She threatened to come down and drag me back by my ear if I skipped again. This is her holding to her threat.”
“Why have you been missing?”
“I may have been a bit distracted by a sexy brunette I met, and not ready to drive hours away and risk missing her at the coffee shop or around town."
“Jace.” This time, she says my name with more of an aw.
“Speaking of which. Uh…” Suddenly, I’m nervous. I feel like a teenage boy calling a girl's house, praying she answers and not her dad, forcing me to ask for his daughter. “What would you say to you and Lizzie coming with me? Mom would love it. She’s in her element when she’s hosting.”
She bites her lip, looking out the passenger window. We are almost back to her place, and I slow, wanting to finish this conversation before getting to her house when we would have an audience.
“Are you sure you want her to meet me? Single moms aren’t exactly catches.”
Swerving to the shoulder, I throw the truck into park, and gravel skitters at the abrupt stop.
“Never say anything like that again, Harper. Having Lizzie does not somehow make you less desirable, or less impressive. If anything, the fact that you run a business, raise a child, and help your community, all on your own, while still having more to offer, fuck, you’re incredible.
I’m the lucky one, and it is an honor and a damn privilege to get to be beside you, watching the way you shine, the way you love so fiercely.
You’re so beautiful, and strong, and I know it’s too soon to say things like this, but I’m in awe of you and helpless to stop the way I’m falling for you more and more each day.
” My words settle between us, the weight of them hanging in the air.
Her eyes blink rapidly in an attempt to stop the tears pooling there. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
“Yeah, babe, I do.” The kiss we share is full of promises, and fuck, if I’m not going to lose my mind being patient waiting for those promises to happen.
Pulling into the drive, my breathing is still ragged. The depth of my feelings for Harper constantly catches me off guard.
“No!” she cries softly. “Next weekend is the Fall Fest. I promised Bree I would help at her booth. It’s her biggest event of the year, and she has always been there for me, and watched Lizzie so I could focus at the Berry Festival.”
“Next weekend? Oh, I forgot. I have, of course, seen the signs and banners all over town. I’ll just call my mom. I can go next month.”
“Oh, no,” she interrupts, putting her finger in my chest. “You are not going to disappoint your mother on my account. How will that make me look when I do meet her?”
She plans to meet her, and the smile on my face is so wide that my cheeks start to cramp. At her stern look, I put my hands up in surrender.
“Of course! It’s Saturday, so I can hurry back on Sunday and at least meet you and Lizzie at the fest for one day, right?”
“Definitely.” Leaning in for another kiss, I nearly fly out of my seat at the thunk of something hitting the windshield.
On instinct, I grab Harper and push her into my lap, ready to shield her from whatever attack is coming.
Instead, I find Bree on the porch, eyes wide, hand over her mouth, and Wren laughing so hard she’s bent over the rail.
Then I spot the soccer ball rolling across the driveway.
“I might have to fire my best employee.” Harper laughs when she sits up and sees the scene before her and her friends cackling on the porch.