I sink into her little by little until I’m balls deep.
“Levi,” she groans. She likes it hard and fast when she’s one orgasm up on me.
So I give her what she wants. I grip her waist, pull out, and thrust in. Harder. Faster. But I’m careful, too, deliberate in my movements so I’ll get her to the finish line one more time before me. I tilt her hips just so, angle my body against hers just right, and lean forward to suck on the nape of her neck. She’s got a spot behind her earlobe that drives her crazy when I put my mouth there.
She clutches the comforter. I use my tongue and teeth, whisper how sexy she is and how good she feels squeezing my cock. We keep this up for a while, and then she straightens, lifting her arms up and wrapping them around my neck. I reach around her to cup and play with her tits. My thrusts slow, but she doesn’t seem to mind.
I slide one hand down her stomach to rub the hard, swollen bundle of nerves in the small landing strip of dark curls between her legs. She turns her head to kiss me. It’s short, but hot, and then she’s back on her elbows.
My hold goes to her waist once again, fingers digging into her soft skin. I pound into her with more urgency. My vision starts to blur; white-hot heat burns through my veins. Then she’s yelling, “Yes, right there!” I keep up the pace until her tremors slow and I find my own release, the pleasure so intense I see stars.
I’m never in a rush to pull out of her, so I stay seated until she makes a move to roll onto her back. She’s spectacular lying against my white sheets with a thoroughly satiated look on her face. I bend over and kiss her. A slow, relaxed openmouthed kiss that leaves us both panting before I get up to dispose of the condom and wash my hands.
On the return, I grab the two fortune cookies from the takeout bag on my desk. Harper scoots up to sit against my headboard. I offer her first pick of the cookies and get comfortable beside her.
“Thanks.” She breaks her cookie in half and pulls out her fortune. “You will find a thing. It may be important.” She looks over at me, a huge smile tugging up the corners of her lips. “In bed.” She cracks ups. She can’t stop giggling. The beautiful, happy sound should be recorded and used for therapy.
I break my cookie and grin when I read the fortune. “There’s been a mix up.” I hand her my tiny slip of paper and take hers.
“A man with”—she glances at me—“brown eyes has a surprise for you.”
“In bed,” I add.
We both burst into a fit of laughter. I twirl several strands of hair hanging over her tit around my finger, brushing the ample skin with the back of my knuckle. She places her hand on my thigh.
After we quiet, she kicks down the covers and crawls underneath them. “I’m tired.”
“Okay.” I slip under, too, more than ready to fall asleep with her in my arms. It’s early, so this might not be an overnight thing, but I’ll take it for however long it lasts.
She cuddles right up against me with her head on my chest, a leg tangled with mine, and her palm over my heart. A few peaceful beats pass before she says, “I saved someone at my parents’ house this morning. He was choking.”
I’m not sure if she wants my praise or congratulations or something else, so I don’t say anything. I squeeze her closer, hoping to convey she’s truly amazing.
“It brought back a lot of uncomfortable memories for me. I was already out of sorts before it happened.”
I kiss the top of her head, silently telling her I’m here if she wants to share more. Keep going, Harper. Keep going.
“On my sixteenth birthday, my boyfriend, Joe, drowned.”
Fucking hell. On her birthday? Her boyfriend? Pain crowds my chest. My muscles clench. And I’m ashamed to admit jealousy stabs me. She loved Joe enough to carry this with her all these years.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“I was so in love with him. He’d never learned to swim, and I was going to teach him.”
I shut my eyes and press my lips together. Her pain is my pain. I wish I could wipe the bad memories away for her.
Moisture coats the side of my chest.
Teardrops.
“Harper…” I try to draw her up, to look at her and comfort her and kiss her, make love to her, whatever it takes to ease the suffering I hear in her voice and feel in her quivers. But she one-arm hugs me to keep me in place. Shakes her head. She doesn’t want me to see her as she talks.
“He…he drowned in our swimming pool.”
Fuuuccck.
“It was my Sweet Sixteen and my parents threw me a huge party in the backyard. I remember it like it was yesterday—Joe and me dancing to “Just the Way You Are” by Bruno Mars. It was our song, and even though he didn’t like to dance, he did with me. He put his hands on my waist. I wrapped my arms around his neck and looked up into his gorgeous face. Everyone else around us disappeared, and then he gave me a quick kiss on the lips. He told me he loved my dress. That it was the prettiest he’d ever seen. Whenever he was close to me, I grinned like a fool. I couldn’t help it. He made me feel safe, womanly, loved.”
“Ham…” I say softly. Of course he loved her. I imagine a lot of guys did from afar.
“Colleen came up to us on the dance floor.”
“Your cousin Colleen?”
She nods. “She smuggled some alcohol into the party and wanted us to do shots with her. I knew she was bringing tequila, so it wasn’t a surprise, and she assured me a couple of shots would be fun and harmless. With my strict swimming regimen, I was always super careful about what I put in my body, but it was my birthday and I wanted to break the rules. Have some extra fun.
“The shots loosened us up and we danced and partied and drank more. By the time the cake rolled out, I was feeling lightheaded and happy. After I blew out the candles, Joe and I snuck out of the party tent to go up the stairs to the terrace where the pool was. We were going to have sex for the first time.” Her breath flutters against my side. A tear slides down my skin. “It was the perfect night. A full moon and hundreds of stars sparkled in the sky to make what we were about to do even more romantic. I’ll never forget the last words he said to me. He said, ‘You look more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen,’ and even though the words were a little slurred, they were so sincere. I felt them. Then he told me he loved me. I told him I loved him, too. So much.
“We started undressing as we stumbled around the pool toward the cabana day bed where we planned for this to happen. But with all the drinking…we were too close to the edge of the pool. I lost my balance taking off my heels, and Joe tried to right me. Only he lost his balance, too, and teetered backward toward the pool. I panicked and reached out, thinking to grab his shirt, only he’d taken it off already so all I got was bare chest.”
She wipes at her cheek, and I am fucking dying here, at a loss for the right words to say to help her through this.
“I remember him mumbling, ‘It’s okay, I’ve got you,’ but he didn’t. I started to fall while trying to pull him back to me. My vision blurred and heat swamped me. Then Joe’s hands slipped off me, and mine off him. I fell and hit my head on a rock and blacked out. When I woke up, Joe was…” She muffles her whimpers with the back of her hand. “When I woke up, I found Joe facedown in the pool. I jumped in, frantic to save him, crying his name over and over again. My heart was pounding so hard, I could barely breathe, but I didn’t care. I just wanted him to be okay, but it was too late. He was already gone.”
I wrap both arms around her and hold tight. I can’t even imagine what that must have felt like. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. There’s more I want to say, but I don’t think she intended for this to be a discussion. She simply wanted to get it off her chest.
There is nothing simple about this, Levi.
“Thank you for telling me what happened. I’m really glad you did.”
She sniffles and gives me a small nod. I don’t let go of her, not when her body relaxes and her breathing evens out. And not when she falls asleep. I keep her tuck
ed against me and drift off to sleep, too.
When I wake up, she’s gone.
August 27th
Dear Harper,
Thank you for opening up to me.
Thank you for letting me hold you.
Thank you for telling me about someone you loved and how much it hurt when he was gone. I hope it made you feel better, sharing something you’ve kept bottled up. I’m honored you felt comfortable enough to confide in me.
Your strength shines bright, Ham. I hope you know that.
Most of all, thank you for trusting me.
Your faith in me has renewed my faith in myself.
Sincerely,
Levi
Chapter Sixteen
Harper
I count the blueberries in my muffin. The ones I can see, anyway. Did you know sometimes a blueberry looks like a carob chip? I glance across the conference table at Brad’s muffin. Yep, blueberries and carob chips could be twins if covered by the right amount of batter when baking.
I have officially lost my mind.
This is what happens when I’m anxious. I make weird observations.
It’s Tuesday morning, I’m at MASF, and Brad had to step out of the room for a minute. We’d only said hello and been served breakfast by his assistant when he had to excuse himself, prolonging the restless energy that is making me fidget and analyze muffins. They are the hottest new food item in Beverly Hills, a gluten-free, low sugar, yet tastes-like-heaven baked good that everyone is talking about. I break off a piece of my muffin top and pop it into my mouth.
Wow. It’s delish.
“Sorry about that,” Brad says, striding back into the room. He sits at the head of the table to my left.
“It’s okay.” I eat another piece of muffin.
He picks his up. “These as good as they say they are?”
“Uh-huh,” I mumble as I chew, and he bites into his.
“You’re right,” he agrees, returning the muffin to the small glass plate in front of him. “So, I’ve had a chance to look over all the footage for the PSAs and it looks fantastic. You did a phenomenal job.”
“Thank you.” My heart is pumping so hard, I’m certain Brad can hear the beats. I hope this means I’ve got the ambassador job.
“I think they’re going to be a big success, and that’s why I wanted to meet with you privately.”
“Okay.”
“In order to bring the most awareness to our cause, we need to figure out how best to get you engaged in the campaign.”
“Are you saying I have the job?” I can’t hide the excited lilt to my voice.
“I’m saying I want to give you the job, but there is more to it than I think you realize.”
“Like what?” I’m not afraid to do whatever is needed to help MASF and reduce the number of people who drown.
“The board is concerned with your willingness to share your past.”
Except that. I’m afraid of that. My brows bump together.
“Before our first meeting, I made the board aware that I coached you when you were a teen. I also told them you lost your boyfriend to drowning, but I didn’t go into specifics because that’s your story to tell.” Brad reaches across the table to squeeze my arm. “I know how devastating it was to you, and how much you were hurting back then. You quit swimming and gave up trying to qualify for the Olympics because of it.”
I give a strong nod. If I speak, my words will wobble, and I don’t allow anyone to hear my vulnerability.
The memory of confiding in Levi flashes through my mind, but I quickly push it away.
“If you agree to be our ambassador, the world is going to want to hear your story, Harper. They’re going to need to hear it to get our message across.”
I blink several times at this requirement.
“So, the board’s concern lies with your willingness to open up and share what personally brought you to MASF. Not your competency or likeability or passion. You’ve got all that in spades, and we’re very happy about that. But we’ve got a list of ways we want you to contribute beyond the PSAs.”
“Like?” I manage to say with a clear voice. Sweat trickles down my sides and heat grips the back of my neck.
“Like being a guest speaker at fundraising lunches and dinners. Emceeing and taking part in walks or swim meets. Lending your profile and being quoted in media releases. Helping generate news stories and further awareness for our cause in both the private and public sectors.
“We want someone who is generous of himself or herself and who is passionate about the organization and willing to lend a hand. You fit all of that, Harper, but we’d like to suggest you share your personal story as well.”
I pull at the sleeves of my shirt and wiggle my toes to get feeling back in my feet. “I don’t know if I can do that,” I say honestly. As my coach, Brad was well aware of what happened to Joe and to me. But because I was a minor, my name was never mentioned publicly. Our home address and the details of the occasion were kept secret, but everyone at school knew. My swim friends, when I failed to return, did, too.
It probably wouldn’t have mattered if strangers knew. I shut myself off from everyone and focused only on what was right in front of me. People around me talked, but I did my best not to hear what they were saying. Brad is asking me to speak and listen.
I know what happened is ancient history and I should be okay talking about it, but this means opening myself up to pity, scrutiny, blame, shame, and more all over again. Joe is my soft underbelly, and I pretend I don’t care what people think, but I do.
“Think about it,” Brad says. “It’s a big decision, and I want you to be completely comfortable with it.”
“Okay. I will. Thank you.”
“I think you can influence this campaign and our organization in great ways. I’ve watched you with the kids, and they really relate to you. Adults will, too.”
“I want to make a difference more than anything.”
Brad smiles and leans forward on the table. “I know you do. Can I offer some advice?”
“Sure.”
“Step out of your shoes and look at what happened. More often than not, the way we see ourselves is not how others see us.”
“I can try and do that. Thanks.”
“And if this doesn’t work out, maybe we can find another way for you to be a part of MASF.”
The thought of sharing my story is worse than thinking about losing a limb. But another part of me is grateful Brad thinks I’m worth the effort if I can muster the courage to speak out. God, making adult decisions sucks.
“When do you need an answer?” I ask.
“Soon.” Once again he squeezes my arm. “I want you to feel you’ve had enough time to give me—and yourself—the best one, but the board does want to move forward.”
Of course he’s going to be sympathetic and kind and fatherly about this. My stomach is in a terrible knot at his consideration. I hate the idea of letting him down. Of letting myself down.
“Okay. Thanks.” I stand up. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go.”
Understanding shines in his eyes as he stands to walk me out. “Thanks for coming in this morning. I look forward to hearing from you soon.”
“Oh, wait.” I stop and force myself to look him in the eyes. “I almost forgot. There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Shoot.”
“I may have skinny-dipped in public with Levi and gotten caught by your brother-in-law, Tim.”
Brad raises his eyebrows. “May have?”
“I did.”
“I already know. Tim told Hadley the second he got home, and Hadley immediately called Amelia and she told me. Nothing is kept secret with those women.”
“You already knew and still offered me the ambassadorship?” I slide my hand down my skirt to dry the perspiration on my palm.
“I imagine it’s something you won’t let happen again.”
“I won’t. I’m sorry.”
“Fo
r what? Having some fun? I probably shouldn’t have mentioned Levi that day at the pool. My brother-in-law seems happier than he’s been in a long time, and I think I have you to thank for that.”
His comment makes my heart pound, but I’ll think about it later, when I’ve had time to process it. “So, we’re good?”
“We’re good.”
Relieved, I say good-bye and hurry to my car. Once inside the safety of the two doors, my entire body deflates. I sit for a long time, staring off into the distance while I try to reconcile my past with my present, my hopes with my fears.
I get nothing but a headache.
I’m startled out of my fog when my phone buzzes with a text. It’s my cousin. She reminds me we’re getting manis and pedis tomorrow afternoon. I type a quick text back all in emojis. I’m not feeling the words at the moment. It’s a good thing I took the entire week off from swim lessons. Between the wedding and MASF, I’m stressed out.
As soon as I put my phone down, another text comes in. Colleen is probably confused by my emoji selection. I pick my cell back up, but it’s not her, it’s Levi.
Hi Ham, my shoot was postponed, and I was wondering if you were free. I need to go clothes shopping for a wedding this weekend.
I stare at the text, unsure how to respond. It’s the first time I’ve heard from him since Sunday night. I was half hoping he’d forget about the wedding. And me. The other half hoped he’d get in touch before now. Not that I blame him. My tears and snot were all over his chest as I dumped my past on him.
My forehead hits the steering wheel. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Not in my personal life, and not in my professional one. I like Levi. I think he likes me. For a normal person, this would be winning the dating lottery. Levi is a catch. He’s all kinds of hot and amazing, but I’m terrified of letting him all the way in.
I’m good at being on my own. I’m not good at navigating a relationship. Not that Levi and I are in a relationship. We’re not. Not at all. We’re just two friends enjoying some benefits. The novelty will wear off after Colleen’s wedding. He’ll go back to his normal routine, and I’ll go back to mine.
Lips Close to Mine (Wherever You Go) Page 15