Chapter Nineteen
It was like studying for a final exam.
The entire surface of the coffee table was covered with various investing books I’d picked up at the local bookstore.
My laptop, tablet, and phone were each open to different research pages, looking into various stocks I was considering investing in, and the TV was on the news channel with the little stock crawl across the bottom.
I was, if you’ll forgive the pun, invested.
I’d always loved a challenge.
And, damn him, Harrison was right; investing was a lot like gambling: the risk, the reward, the careful planning mixed with gut instinct.
Everything I’d learned over the past two days had me itching to dive in.
If I wanted to win, I needed to dive in. I was just giving myself until the end of the day to research.
Then, well, it was time to trust everything I’d learned, invest, and watch things like a hawk.
It seemed like my best bet was to invest sixty to seventy percent in something stable like the S&P 500. Then I would take twenty to thirty percent for strategic growth: undervalued companies, momentum stocks, short-term catalysts.
I would keep five to ten percent as a pressure valve. This was all gut instincts and short-term, high-risk trades. I was calling it my “Idiot Fund.”
It was where I would win or lose the most dramatically.
Naturally, it was what I was also most excited about.
I’d been so fixated on learning that I’d almost completely forgotten to keep messing with Harrison.
I did spend almost the whole night before screwing with the thermostat.
Each time he got up to turn it down, I cranked it up higher.
I was in my room with the vent closed, in my underwear, with the window open because it was so damn hot.
But it was fun to hear him grumble as he made his way back into the common area each time to turn it back down.
As for the chaos I wanted to create, well, with how distracted I was with studying, I was naturally creating small messes: dishes in the sink, books and notebooks all over the place, layers I put on and stripped off all over the apartment.
I ate through just about everything in the fridge and freezer while he was at work.
Of course, I’d been so distracted by my studies that I’d forgotten what was coming up.
The weekend.
And Harrison? He seemed to like to take a half day on Fridays.
Because I was still sitting there on the floor by the coffee table, wearing nothing but my yoga pants and leisure bra, my hair in a rat’s nest, and a pen between my lips, when he came in and spotted me.
“Having fun?” he asked, his eyes going immediately warm.
“You’re home early.”
“Well, sweetheart, it appears you have the metabolism of a fifteen-year-old boy. I decided to leave early to hit the market. But I stopped home to see if you wanted to come. Pick out some snacks.”
Normally, I would say that spending more time with him was a terrible idea. But we weren’t going to accidentally have sex at the grocery store. And I really did need some snacks. Harrison was entirely too healthy for my liking. The man snacked on nuts—unsalted nuts.
“Can you give me time to shower?” I asked.
“Sure. Maybe I’ll go for a swim.”
It was cute he thought I needed that much time to get ready. But I didn’t object, just went into my room to get cleaned up.
The problem was, well, my room location.
You know… with the large windows looking out at the pool.
I was standing in my room, holding a towel to my chest and watching as he climbed out of the pool.
Water cascaded down his chest and abdomen, making need weigh down heavily on my stomach.
As if sensing the direction of my thoughts, Harrison’s head whipped over.
Then he was eye-banging me as much as I was him.
And, heaven help me, I dropped the damn towel.
Harrison’s gaze helplessly moved down my body, and I got to watch his eyes go molten.
Emboldened by his helpless reaction to me, I let my hand drift down my body, teasing over my breast, my belly.
Harrison’s chest heaved. I could practically see his heart beating in his throat.
I slowly walked backward until I hit the bed, then climbed up and scooted back.
Gaze on his, I slipped my hand between my legs.
He leaned against the window, watching me for a long moment.
Then he pushed off and disappeared.
But it was only for a moment.
Then he was there in the doorway, his breath frantic, his hunger palpable.
He paused only for a moment, long enough to wrangle his wet trunks down his legs.
Then his water-cold body was against mine, his hips slotting between mine, his hard length against my aching need.
His lips claimed mine, as hard and hungry as the need pulsing through me.
My legs encircled him.
My hips rose and rocked.
“Harrison, please,” I whimpered, the need growing to a sharp ache.
“I don’t have—”
“I’m clear if you are,” I told him. “And I’m on the Pill.”
I’d never brushed aside protection before. And maybe the intimacy was stupid with someone I was trying not to develop feelings for.
But I was too desperate to care.
And, well, we were married. If ever there was a time when it was okay, it was then.
“I’m clear,” he assured me.
Then he pressed up.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Harrison groaned.
Then he shifted, positioned, and surged deep inside me.
Our gasps tangled as the heat enveloped us.
Then it was just friction, heat, movement, moans.
Complete and utter pleasure in the most devastating way imaginable.
Then, when the climax came, I splintered like glass in sunlight, each shard humming with light.
“Fuck, Layna,” Harrison groaned, feeling me clenching around him.
Then he buried deep and shuddered as he came with me.
We stayed that way for a long time after, bodies thrumming with pleasure, pulse and breath in sync.
When he finally tried to pull away, some part of me panicked and clutched him tighter.
“I’m not leaving,” he told me, voice soft.
This time, when he shifted, he took me with him, both of us on our sides, bodies close.
I knew I needed to pull away, to clean up, get dressed, and get some space.
But with Harrison’s fingers drifting gently over my body, I couldn’t force myself to move away.
I arched into his touch.
I melted into his warmth.
Until, suddenly, my damn stomach growled.
Harrison chuckled.
“Guess I need to feed you before we go food shopping.”
The spell momentarily broken, I pulled back.
“Yeah,” I agreed, moving to sit off the side of the bed.
Harrison moved to kneel behind me, his lips meeting my neck from behind.
There was a crack in my chest.
And I knew that if I didn’t move right then, he was going to sink right in.
So I got up and rushed to the bathroom, climbing back in the shower and scrubbing myself until my skin was red and sore.
By the time I made my way back out, Harrison was gone, along with his swim trunks.
I exhaled hard, threw on jeans and a tee, then made my way into the common area.
Harrison was waiting for me, changed out of the trunks, but not in one of his usual suits. No, this was Harrison in casual mode. He had on well-fitting chinos, a brown belt, and a tucked-in black polo shirt.
It was somehow just as hot as his suits, even if he didn’t have sleeves to roll up and torture me with.
That wasn’t the only thing different about Harrison, though.
There was something guarded about him.
“Do you have an idea what you want for dinner?” he asked.
There was a chill in his voice.
My arms crossed, my hands rubbing up over the goosebumps on my skin.
“I’m not picky,” I said, barely resisting the urge to shift my feet. “We can just grab something on the way.”
“Okay,” he agreed, turning to grab his wallet, then making his way to the door.
I slid my feet into shoes behind the door, watching him turn away from me and go into the vestibule.
Something had changed.
He had changed.
And that change had my heart feeling deflated in my chest.
I figured maybe it was just a fleeting mood. We all had them. But then he barely spoke a word to me when we ducked into a sandwich shop, just waited for me to order my food, ordered his own, and paid for us both.
We ate and walked, so maybe that shouldn’t have felt uncomfortable that we didn’t speak, but my stomach twisted itself into knots the whole way to the shop. Enough that I lost my appetite after the first half of my sandwich and gave the rest to an unhoused man we passed.
The market was just as awkward. To anyone passing, we likely looked like a couple who’d just gotten into an awful argument and didn’t want to be anywhere near each other.
The thought of eating anything made me queasy, but I tossed one or two snacks into the cart as Harrison filled it up.
By the time we got back to the apartment, I had the strangest, almost overwhelming urge to cry.
I tried to focus on my studies, but the words swam. My room felt claustrophobic. Nothing on TV held my attention.
And Harrison was silently rearranging the damn pantry.
Not sure what else to do, I got into some workout clothes, slipped into sneakers, and made my way out of my room.
“I’m going for a run.”
Harrison glanced over his shoulder at me.
“You hate running.”
“I do.”
It turned out I hated being in the apartment with him and the weird, complicated feelings stirring between us all the more.
So I did the real mature thing.
And physically ran away from my problems.
Until my knees were wobbly.
Until my head was pounding from dehydration.
Until I barely had the energy to go home, do a quick body shower, and slip into sweats.
But when I tried to get into my bed, I smelled him on the sheets.
I ripped the bedding off with a growl, carrying it out into the hall where I’d heard Harrison’s clothes swishing around in a closet at night.
Emotionally raw and exhausted, I curled up on the couch with some silly sitcom on the TV and started to drift off.
I came awake with a start as the world fell away from under me.
“You’re okay,” Harrison said. “Why aren’t you in bed?” he asked as he pulled me against his chest.
“Sheets smelled like you,” I admitted, still too asleep to remember I didn’t want to admit things like that to him.
The admission had him tensing.
“I’ll put you in the other room.”
Then he was turning, walking, carrying me away.
“Why do you care?” I asked, leaning my face against his bare shoulder.
“I’ve been asking myself the same question,” he admitted before dropping me down on the mattress.
Then he turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
I sat up, fully awake, feeling a sinking sensation in my chest.
Why?
Because he was finally over his infatuation with me?
Like I’d been wanting?
Like I’d been waiting for?
“Oh, for God’s sake,” I grumbled, feeling the wetness dripping down my cheeks.
This had to stop.
I needed to spend the next day planning, then just invest the damn money. Watch the stocks, adjust as necessary, and get Harrison the fifteen percent he wanted from me.
Then he’d sign the papers.
And I never had to see him again.
I was just going to have to pretend that the idea of that didn’t make my heart feel smashed to pieces in my chest.
It was a good thing I was practiced in the art of bluffing.