Tides That Bind

Chapter 32

After sending Harper home in my car, I hop in the outdoor shower to rinse off. I’ve got a lot to catch up on for The Shack’s books and figured it might make Finn happy to see me get a jump on it when he gets here.

But I nearly drop my towel when I emerge from the outdoor shower minutes later, finding Caroline sitting on the bench.

She’s frowning.

Great .

“Hi. Good morning?”

“Seems it was for you,” Caroline snarks. “We need to talk.”

Extra great. She knows.

I tighten the towel on my waist. “Can I get dressed?”

Caroline presses her lips together and I know her answer to that question is no , but I go into my office and throw on swim trunks and a t-shirt anyway.

I watch through the front glass doors as she paces in the sand. I hate when people pace. It reminds me of my father.

I lift my head to the ceiling and groan, flinging open the door and marching out to the bench where my sister sits.

“I’m here to remind you you’re my sister and you married my best friend after sneaking around with him for almost a year .”

Caroline whips her head to me. “You think I’m upset because you’re sleeping with my friend?”

I drop my head, but I don’t even know why. Of all the things, the fact that Harper and Caroline are friends is the least problematic component of our relationship.

She turns to face me. “Riley—”

I tsk and look up at the beach, rubbing my temples. “She’s Nate’s wife and Nate was my best friend and—”

“And she’s fragile , Riley. And there’s a kid involved.”

“I know there’s a kid involved. God, Caroline, do you think I’m doing all this shit willy-nilly? I helped raise Lucas. I love that boy. I…I loved him before I loved her.”

My confession makes both of our eyes widen at the exact same time.

“You’re my brother. My only brother, and I love you and you’ve been through hell and you know what? You’ve never really had it all that easy. I know I’ve been traveling a lot and I haven’t been there for you as much as I should have lately, especially after the accident.” Caroline squeezes my hand.

“I don’t need any mothering,” I tell her.

What I’m looking for, what I’ve always been looking for, is simple. It’s support. It’s the words like, good idea, Riley. You can do this, Riley .

I used to get that from Nate.

Now, I get that from Harper.

Caroline might’ve not talked me out of the lawsuit, but she wasn’t enthusiastic about it. I know my sister well enough to understand when she’s trying to be considerate of my feelings and handle me with care, and it’s been like that from the jump.

“Just have a little faith in me, that’s all I’m asking for. Believe I can do something right in this life. Believe I can do right by her.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. You do a lot of things right. You run a business. You’re being a stand-up guy and looking after Lucas when he’s not your responsibility.” Caroline sighs. “I’ve seen the change, Riley, I really have. And if Harper and Lucas have something to do with that, who am I to say anything? I didn’t come here to spy. I came because I have something for you.”

Caroline pulls out piece of paper from her bag.

“I got this last night, but you had already left Ship-Slapped.”

“What’s this?” I flip to the second page, an entry printed out of a data base.

“Tides.”

I furrow my brow.

Caroline folds her lips together. “Silas. He said he passed by the other day, but you and him kind of got into it.”

Lifting my head to the clouds, I curse under my breath.

Caroline points at the entry. “Tides was initially assigned a new handler, except that handler got transferred to a different town. Since Tides is technically property of Oceanside, he didn’t go and he hasn’t been assigned a new handler. He’s in a kennel.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, because now, I really feel fucking awful.

“Technically,” Caroline continues. “He’s a non-working police K9.”

My eyes shoot open and I turn to my sister. “They’re in violation of contract.”

Caroline presses her lips together and nods.

The dead weight that’s been plaguing my chest finally loosens, and the cloud over my head finally floats away.

“We can win this then.” I turn to Caroline. “We can really win this then.”

My sister smiles. “No, Riley. You can.”

I park across from Harper’s studio. Apart from people slowly making their way out the door, the quaint street in Oceanside is quiet.

“Oh. The class just ended,” a woman tells me as she slips through the door I hold open.

I find it funny anyone is thinking I’m here for yoga when I’m wearing jeans . “I’m just dropping in,” I tell her as she walks by.

In the small lobby of the studio I’m met with a light, sweet smell, something clean and airy, just faint enough to tickle my nose’s attention at first and then pull me in for another inhale.

Even Harper’s work smells like…Harper.

“Can I help you?” a woman surrounded by a few lingering yogis at the front desk asks.

“I’m looking for—”

“Riley.”

I turn to the side, finding Harper standing in the doorway. “It’s okay,” she tells the other woman. “He’s here to help me.”

I wrinkle my brow, but follow anyway when Harper tips her head. She shuts the door behind us.

“What are you doing here?”

“You told me I could drop in.” Glancing around, I find a bunch of put-out, well burned candles sitting on a table in the corner.

Harper leans against the wall, giggling. “I meant for a class .”

“Yeah, well,” I begin, pocketing my hands and rocking on my heels. “I prefer something a little more private.”

Pushing off the wall, Harper takes a step closer. “I could stretch you out in private at home,” she offers coyly as her mouth slides into a tiny grin.

“How long until you’re done for the night? Let’s grab dinner at the diner.”

Harper raises her eyebrows. “The diner?”

I shrug. “You said you didn’t have time for anything fancy tonight. I’m starving and there’s no food at home. Are you ready to go? ”

“I need a few minutes.” She presses up onto her toes, kissing me. “If you help me, it’ll go by faster. Can you put those in the box and bring them back to the new studio space? Whatever isn’t worth saving you can leave. We’ll recycle them.”

Before Harper moves away, I slide my hands from her hips down to her ass hiding beneath her tight, spandex shorts and squeeze it.

“Thanks, Riley.” Harper calls over her shoulder with a smile as she heads for the door.

I chuckle, moving to the table and pulling out the box from beneath it to pack up the candles that still have something left worth burning.

Shutting the box, I lift it and head back out the lobby, down the smooth, concrete floors until I get to the curtained off partition. The new space looks a lot different than the last—and only time—I was here. The floors are no longer dusty. Gone are the folding tables and chairs. Hammocks hang on the hinges that were previously unloaded.

And of course, there’s the hoop.

I press my lips together in a tight line, remembering Harper’s body as she arched and molded herself into a shape I’d say is totally unnatural, but seems totally reasonable for her.

Shaking my head, I eye the closets flanking the wall to my side. The jarred candles rattle inside the box as I balance its weight with one hand so I can open the door, finding mostly vacant shelves. I slide it inside.

I should head back into the main studio and see what else Harper needs help with so we can get out of here. But I don’t.

Physically, I’m here in the studio’s addition, watching ten, light green hammocks drift back and forth from an invisible breeze. I’m looking at the high ceilings, the large windows that have tarp over them.

And then, I’m looking at the hoop.

Mentally, I’m halfway through a daydream…

“Alright, I’m all cleared out. I locked up the front. We’ll go out the back. Are you ready?” Harper pushes through the curtain. “It looks great with everything up now, don’t you think?”

She looks great. She already looked great before, when she was just in a sports bra and those damn tight shorts. But now, she’s playing with the zipper of my hoodie that hangs open on her, landing mid-thigh. The sight of my sweatshirt on her does something to me it didn’t do the other night, lights this kind of proud, possessive fire in my chest now that all walls have turned into rubble at our feet.

Yeah, I think to myself as I smirk. That’s my girl.

Harper pushes back her long braid that’s fallen in front of her shoulder. The movement makes a few, front locks slip free, covering her face.

I scowl.

“I already locked up out front. We need to go out the”—Harper pauses when I stomp over to her—“what are you…”

I lift the loose braid, slipping off the tie at the end. “Turn around.”

Harper knits her brows together.

“Turn around, please ,” I tell her again as I free the tresses from the braid, letting my fingers comb through the silky ends. I look at the hair tie of hers I just removed and hand it back to her. “This goes in the trash.”

“What?” Harper asks. “Why”

I pull off the extra rubber band from my wrist. “There’s something about you that bothers me,” I say, taking a hold of her hair.

“Just one thing? I expected a full list,” Harper teases.

I give her hair a playful tug and she gasps. I collect all of it in my hand, lifting it up and smoothing it back.

“It’s this.”

“My hair?”

“Mmm,” I answer, using the rubber band to fasten the long locks together. “I’ve got a love-hate relationship with it. On one hand, it drives me crazy .”

I lean forward, nuzzling the space behind her ear.

Harper’s breathing sharpens. “And on the other hand?”

“Every time it hides even a centimeter of your gorgeous face I’m tempted to shave it off.” I secure the bun and slide my hands to Harper’s waist and turn her around to face me. “That’s better.”

Harper bites her bottom lip, raising her hand to her head. “You’re going to give me breakage with the rubber band.”

I draw circles against the bare skin of her waist before I dip to her ear again. “You won’t be complaining about anything after I’m done with you.”

Harper draws a sharp breath when I catch the top of her ear between my teeth. Like a reflex, she grabs onto me.

Beyond her, my eyes find the hoop. “Take off your clothes.”

Harper tenses.

“You said we’re alone. Take off your clothes so I can see all of you.”

I slide one hand from Harper’s waist, moving across her stomach and down where I cup her. I groan from how she warms my palm immediately.

“You said that last night. You saw all of me last night,” Harper reminds me, clutching my shoulders. Her breathing grows faster when I press my hand firmer against her. A soft moan escapes her lips when I push the heel of my hand higher.

When she starts rocking against me, I back away. Harper’s shoulders slump.

I run my tongue across my lips as I watch the way her chest rises and falls with need.

Need for me .

Stepping closer so I’m able to tilt Harper’s chin up, I tell her, “If you thought last night filled my cup of you, you’re wrong. It wasn’t even a tasting.”

Harper’s eyes flutter shut and she leans forward but I step out of reach again. If I kiss her now, we’ll be fucking on the floor. And, while I’m normally happy to be a man without a plan, right now I have one worth sticking to.

Harper sighs deeply and slips off my hoodie, tossing it at me. I bring it to my nose, inhaling the scent of her imbedded into the fabric. I nearly deviate again, tempted to burrow into the sweet smell that mirrors the scent of the perfect valleys carved by her collarbones.

But when Harper lifts her sports bra over her head and I get a glimpse of her tight, pink nipple, I remember I’m not a patron visiting a bakery just to admire the whiffs of the pastries of the day.

I rub my chin when she steps out of her shoes, socks, and tugs her shorts down.

I came to feast.

With her hair pulled tightly back and the low, studio light illuminating her body, I’m satisfied, but only to an extent.

I motion at the hoop.

“Get on.”

Harper’s head follows the direction before she whips it back to me. “Like this?” She holds her arms up for emphasis.

I quickly move to her, unable to stop myself from cupping her breast and teasing her nipple with the pad of my thumb. “Yes. Get up there like this,” I tell her, watching her beautiful eyes shut from my touch. “But spread your legs. All the way.”

My orders draw a whimper from her mouth. I slide my hand down, but stop in the middle of her stomach, giving her a soft push backward toward the hoop.

She turns. Every step she takes away from me is torture. But somehow, admiring the curve of her ass makes it sting less and made even better Harper reaches up to grab the curved sides of the hoop, lifting her body with ease and sliding into it. She adjusts, slipping her feet through to sit balanced and I lick my lips again in anticipation.

I move to her. “Bring your legs up. ”

Harper bends her knees, pulling them up.

“All the way up. And straighten them. When I told you I daydreamed about yoga, this is what I meant,” I tell her. “Your pussy at the right level.”

In my head, Harper doing this for me is wild. When she points her toes and straightens her legs, folding her body and keeping herself on display for me, I nearly blow my load in my pants.

And when I see her toes curl around the top arch of the hoop, I nearly pass out.

I cock my tongue against the inside of my cheek. “Don’t close your eyes. Shame to waste a perfect view of what I’m going to do to you.”

I bite what is the back of her thigh right in front of me, right beside her pulsing heat. Harper gasps, and one hand comes down to find my hair.

I tsk against her skin and she moves her hand back up. “With what I’m about to do, you’re going to need to hold on for dear life.”

Before I even make full contact, Harper is already moaning. When my tongue sinks into her, she’s practically screaming.

My name fleeing her mouth like that—desperate, so damn wanted —will be my undoing. I’m dizzy from her taste, frantic for more, like I’m licking and lapping at an aphrodisiac-flavored lollipop and not Harper’s clit.

I reach up and flatten my palm into the small of her back because Harper is writhing against my mouth. The rim of the hoop can’t be more than two inches thick so I do what I can to sandwich her tighter between my hand and mouth.

And god, when she bucks with what little space she has against my face, I know she loves it.

And shit, when she drips against my chin, do I like it.

“That’s it,” I say against her.

I’m fumbling with the button at my waist, trying to help my cock spring free, just to give it a stroke or two to try and calm it down because I won’t let myself go now. I’m going to make Harper come with my nose smashed against her mound and my lips around her clit, the butt of my chin spreading her open.

And me? Come hell or high water, I’m losing myself balls deep in her.

“More,” she mewls over and over. “Riley…”

Each plea makes my hand below move frantic and I groan into her when I wrap a hand around my shaft, applying as much pressure as I can handle, trying to keep my focus on Harper, her body, her smell, her taste, these little, tiny pulses she makes against my mouth.

I hiss when she whimpers my name again.

I lose my focus when I feel Harper lean back, challenging my hand helping secure her. My eyes fling up and I find her staring, biting her lip so hard I’m sure she could draw blood.

She leans back again.

I press a kiss to her center and look up. “What are you doing?”

Harper’s eyes leave mine and peer further down. “Do you want to see a party trick?”

Before I even can respond, Harper lowers her legs so she just sits on the bar with her knees now in my face, blocking me. I grip them, annoyed. “What are you doing?”

I get everything back and more when Harper arches and leans back, her body draped over the hoop.

I hold my breath for a second as she shimmies a bit, opening her legs more, returning what I now consider my most prized possession.

Because she’s mine. Harper is mine.

I gasp when I look down as she reaches out, taking my hips.

She follows the kiss to my swollen tip with a whisper. “Don’t let me fall.”

Everything in my body tightens—my toes inside my shoes, my balls, my fingers that now dig into her thighs, securing her .

“Never,” I promise, sandwiching my head between her thighs and sealing it with a kiss.

And I don’t let Harper even come close to the ground. With my tongue and lips I lift her up and over the edge I’m desperate to jump off myself and never more than when she comes, her voice vibrating against my cock she’s got in her mouth.

“Jesus,” I hiss against her when her tongue massages the thick vein on the underside.

I cry out when I slip from her mouth as Harper makes her way back up to the hoop. It amazes me how in the sea of aftershocks her strength floats to the surface. When she’s back up and safely secure, I lean forward, scraping my teeth along her knee.

I can feel the way her body has relaxed, has loosened, as if this was merely a warm up.

“Riley.” Harper runs her hands in my hair, pulling my attention up to her. “Catch me,” she whispers.

When Harper slides her body off the hoop, my mouth runs up from her center right up her stomach and to her lips. Her legs wrap around my waist.

While I don’t have the strength, stamina, or grace of an acrobat, I manage to guide us over to the mirrored wall with my pants still shackling my ankles. I have to drop her now, because I’m not letting her miss this.

My chest rises and falls quickly. “Turn.” I give her ass a slap and then guide her closer to the mirror. Running my hands from her shoulders down her arms, I smile at the goosebumps they leave on her smooth skin. I grab her hands. Harper leans back into me, but I push her forward, abandoning one of her hands so I can trace the valley of her spine.

“I told you, you need to hold on.” I wait until Harper grabs the bar. “If your knuckles aren’t white, you aren’t holding tight enough.”

Leaning forward, I slide against her slick entrance. Harper gasps.

“Better. And see? Rubber band did the trick. Now I can see every inch of your gorgeous face while I fuck you from the back.” I lean forward. “And have full access to this perfect neck.”

I pepper the column with kisses from back to front, each one melting Harper’s body more against me. And the moment I feel her relax, I whisper her name so she finds my eyes in the mirror.

I push in, and out of her mouth? My name. Over and over again, punctuated by no other words, only whimpers, heavy breaths, the sound of my balls slapping against her.

“I can’t,” I finally whine. “I can’t you’re too perfect.”

I grip her hips tighter, trying to hold off, to savor every feel and squeeze of her heat. I keep repeating into her skin how perfect she is, how in her depth, I’m lost, unable to tell up from down, left from right. The only direction I know is forward, is in.

I tighten and swell, my strokes frantic, and Harper must know. Because she calls my name a different way.

“Riley…”

When I find Harper’s eyes again, I find all of her.

I don’t look away, don’t bury my head into the crook of her neck, or close my eyes when I come.

And I keep looking at her after while my body shakes and trembles above and inside her.

I realize, in this moment, because of Harper, it’s not that I’ve lost myself. It’s that I’ve been found.