Evie blinked, looking from Isabella to Ms. Clayton. “That was fast.”
The woman smiled, and instantly, Harlow liked her. “We’re used to jumping into action when we’re needed, and I live only a few blocks from here. I’ve been talking with Detective Walker about your situation, and I think we can help. I take it formal charges will be made against the person responsible for Evie’s injuries?”
“That’s up to her,” Addison said, but Evie—thank God—nodded.
“Yes. I want to press charges.”
Isabella folded her smile between her lips, but not so quickly that Harlow hadn’t caught the edge of it. “Detectives Hollister and Garza, two of our other team members”—she added at both Evie and Harlow’s confused looks—“are already on standby, just waiting to pick him up. Since it’s Saturday night, he’ll have to wait until Monday to be arraigned. By then, we can work up a restraining order on the off chance that he gets bail.”
“We know the ADA, too,” Addison said sweetly. “You think we’re tough? I’ve got three black belts, and that’s nothing on Tara Kingston. She’ll do her best to make sure this guy gets what he deserves. Which is to stay in jail for as long as humanly possible.”
Now that was the best news Harlow had heard all night. “So, what does Evie need to do from here?” she asked.
Isabella said, “First and foremost, heal.” She turned toward Evie. “Ms. Clayton will help you with a place to stay for the next few days, and then you can determine what changes you might need to make for your safety.”
“I’m not sure if I can keep my job,” Evie said, worry streaking over her face. “I work at a clothing place in the mall. My boyfriend…ex-boyfriend,” she corrected, “works there, too.”
“I can help you cross that bridge if you get to it,” Ms. Clayton said. “Believe me when I tell you, honey. I’m a pro at helping people start fresh. Once you finish up here, I’ll take you to Haven House so you can get a good night’s sleep. We can talk more in the morning.”
“We don’t need anything else,” Tess said, looking at Evie. “I’ll grab some extra Tylenol to send with you. As long as you’re sure you don’t want anything stronger for the pain?”
Evie shook her head. “No. Thank you.”
Tess took a business card out of her doctor’s coat pocket, flipping it over to write something on the back before handing it to Evie. “If you change your mind, or if you feel any numbness in your arm or anything else unusual, you call me, okay? That’s my cell number. I’m on call all night and I’ve got a five-month-old, so really, don’t worry about waking me up. I never sleep, anyway. Okay?”
“Okay.” Evie nodded.
Tess and Sofia slipped past the door with Addison and Isabella on their heels, eager to set the arrest formally into motion.
“I’ll let you gather yourself,” Ms. Clayton said to Evie. To Harlow, she said, “Thank you for all the attention you’ve given Evie tonight. There aren’t a whole lot of clinic directors who go this far above and beyond for a patient. It’s certainly nice to know there’s a place around here that offers such good care.”
“Of course,” Harlow said. She turned to give Evie some privacy to get dressed, but as Ms. Clayton shut the door, Evie grabbed Harlow’s hand.
“I don’t know how to thank you. Ms. Clayton is right. I’ve never had anyone stick by me like you did.”
All of the emotions that had been swirling in Harlow’s chest kicked up like a dust cloud. Frustration over the budget. Anger at Evie’s abuse. Sadness at the memories of feeling so lost and alone without her mother.
She batted them back, fighting for calm. “You needed a friend. Someone to stand by you and be strong. I’m happy to do it, Evie.”
“I know, and I’m really lucky.” Evie squeezed her hand even tighter. “I just hope that if you ever need it, you have someone who will do the same for you.”
23
Connor knew he should be tired. No. Scratch that. He should be balls-out fucking exhausted. The past six days had lasted a month, with tonight hurling every adrenaline bomb it could possibly turn up in his and Harlow’s direction. She’d handled Evie’s case with strength and respect from start to finish, making sure that both Evie and Ms. Clayton had her home, cell, and office numbers in case anything else was needed, “even if it’s the middle of the night”.
Ms. Clayton had promised they’d call in the morning to check in, and Isabella had left them with the good news that Evie’s boyfriend had been arrested, kicking and cussing, and would be spending the rest of his weekend in jail. By the time he got out, Evie would be long gone from his life, and he’d have a list of legal problems as long as Connor’s leg.
And if the nasty bastard didn’t leave her alone? His list of problems was going to grow exponentially.
Connor had promised he’d be there. And he was a man of his word.
Speaking of which…
He looked at Harlow, who—God help him—was beautiful even in exhaustion. “Rain check on the batting cages?” he asked, tucking the keys he’d just used to lock the clinic’s front doors back into his coat pocket.
She nodded, her face mostly shadowed now that they’d turned away from the brightly lit exterior of the building in favor of the city block on which it stood. “Yeah. It’s late, and…yeah.”
Worry expanded in his chest, crowding his rib cage. She wasn’t used to all this trauma and adrenaline, and tonight had been chock full of both. She’d done admirably under the circumstances, but the moments after a call could be the most overwhelming.
“Maybe I should just take you home,” Connor offered. He could help her pick up her car at some point tomorrow, but between her exhaustion and the adrenaline letdown, driving was probably a shit plan.
“Would you?” Harlow asked softly.
“Of course. Your place isn’t that far, but even if it was, I’d still drop you off.”
“No.” She stopped on the sidewalk, her hair stirring around her face in the chilly breeze. “I mean, would you take me home with you?”
Shaking himself, he stared at her, scrambling for a coherent thought other than the yes, yes, yes screaming through the primal part of his brain. “Harlow, I don’t think—”
“I don’t want to think, Connor.” She stepped in until their chests were a thin inch apart, her breath puffing past her lips in a small white cloud, heating the scant space between them and making his pulse thrum with need. “Just for tonight, all I want to do is feel. So, will you please”—she pressed up to brush her lips over his, and fuck, he could taste the need on her—“take me home and give it to me?”
Connor replied with a kiss back, not as sweet or as soft as hers. But Harlow did something to him, set something into motion inside of him that he couldn’t explain, and saying no wasn’t an option.
She was so strong for everyone else. So smart and composed and steady.
He wanted to be strong for her.
He wanted to give her what she needed.
They parted, much to his dick’s dismay, and he threaded his fingers through Harlow’s to lead her to his Jeep. They didn’t speak, yet the air between them was charged enough to make Connor’s heart pound. He navigated the path to his apartment with ease, the trip only taking ten minutes now that it was getting late and traffic in the city had long since thinned. His building didn’t have a high-tech parking garage or a huge, fancy lobby loaded with artwork, like Harlow’s, and a small part of him was tempted to wonder if she missed all the grandeur as he led her through the place. She didn’t seem to mind the standard decor, though, curiously taking in the tidy entryway and the steel-paneled elevator, then the long hallway leading to his apartment. Connor did the key-meet-lock thing quickly enough, clicking on the light in the foyer that also illuminated much of the small but open-concept living space beyond.
“Home, sweet home,” he said, tossing his keys on the slender table by the door and shrugging out of his coat before turning to take Harlow’s, too. “Can I get yo
u anything?”
“Just you.”
She stepped toward him—hell, he met her halfway to save precious milliseconds, because he’d been dying to touch her all day. They bumped together in a desperate tangle of arms and mouths, kissing so hard, their teeth clacked gently yet gracelessly together.
Connor didn’t care. He didn’t care that they were in his entryway, or that he’d dropped his coat, and Harlow’s, to the floor at his feet. He didn’t care that he hadn’t eaten a proper meal since lunchtime, or that he probably smelled like anti-bacterial hand gel. The only thing he could focus on—the sole thing in his universe right now—was the woman in his arms.
Christ, her need was pouring off her in waves, each one of them slamming into his chest. Without breaking the connection of their mouths, Harlow reached down, yanking his shirt up just far enough to close her fingers around the waistband of his scrubs.
It took everything he had—and he really meant everything—to capture her fingers with his own and bring them to stillness. “Wait,” he said against her lips.
“No.” She grasped the hem of her sweater, yanking the heavy material up and over her head. The move made her hair wild around her face, but not enough to cover the emotion there.
“Yes.”
Harlow froze, her eyes glinting in the low light. “Connor, I want—”
“I know what you want, sweetheart. But I want something, too.”
Her brows gathered in question, and he cupped her face to answer.
“Let me in, Harlow.” He tipped her chin back, kissing the juncture where her jaw came together by her ear. “If all you want to do tonight is feel, then let me make you feel perfect. Slow down and let me make you feel everything.”
For a beat, Connor thought she might refuse. He knew what he was asking, and knowing Harlow’s fierceness, it wasn’t small. She never relied on anyone, and she damn sure kept her emotions in check. Letting him take his time with her meant more than the sexual release they’d both been craving. It meant she’d have to let him in. She’d have to let him really see her.
But then, some defining thing moved through her blue stare at his request, an acquiescence that had nothing to do with giving in as much as it did trust.
“If you want me, then take me,” Harlow said.
And then, she let him.
Harlow had always relied on her brain to get her through all of her toughest moments. In all of her twenty-eight years, she’d never encountered an obstacle she couldn’t outthink with logic, facts, and good, old-fashioned strategy. So, the fact that she’d just chucked all of those things, and the composure that had doubled as armor for the past couple of years, should be scary as hell, she knew.
But it wasn’t. Trusting Connor to ease the ache that had been building inside of her, giving in to the emotions that just wouldn’t loosen their grip, letting him see the vulnerable, needy parts of her that she kept so well-hidden—right now, in this moment, it wasn’t scary at all.
He’d let her into his life so easily, showing her exactly who he was even when it had been emotionally risky. She could do the same.
No. That wasn’t quite accurate. She wanted to do the same.
Right now, she wanted Connor to see everything.
Without speaking, he wrapped his fingers around hers and led her past the kitchen, then the living area and down the short hallway toward what Harlow could only assume was his bedroom. His apartment wasn’t big or lushly appointed, but the place screamed of him—the well-cushioned couch, the bookshelf full of romance novels and thrillers, the framed photographs she made a mental note to look at more closely later. Even his bed, a huge, king-sized affair covered in a dark blue duvet she could just make out from the light spilling in from the hallway, conveyed the exact comfort she was seeking.
“Come here,” Connor said, taking the initiative to pull her in close even though she’d have readily made the move. His fingers coasted over her shoulders in a feather-light touch, and Harlow suddenly became all too aware of the fact that she’d brazenly whipped her sweater to the hinterlands of his foyer floor, desperate for the contact that would quiet her churning emotions, even if just for a little while.
Whether it was because he sensed her rare shot of self-consciousness or because he just plain meant it, she couldn’t be sure, but a smile slipped over Connor’s mouth as he said, “You are so beautiful. I’m going to enjoy every fucking second of taking my time with you.”
He traced a lazy path over her shoulder with one fingertip, the connection sending a shiver first to her belly, then lower, deep between her legs. His mouth curved into a full-on smile, dark and dirtier than the one he’d worn only seconds ago, and the pure suggestiveness of it, the promise of what would come, sent a curl of want spiraling through her.
“Does that turn you on?” he asked, those clever, capable fingers sliding over her bicep, lingering faintly in the fold of her elbow. “The thought of me touching you slowly?” He dragged his touch to the back of her arm, lighting up every nerve ending and making her skin tingle. “Of me giving you what you need?”
“Yes.” The truth collapsed past her lips. Connor’s fingers remained soft and steady on her arm, and Harlow marveled at all the places she felt the touch. In her chest, where her breath had caught. Her nipples, which had tightened to hard, aching points against the lace of her bra. The hot, slick space where her thighs clenched together in an effort to relieve the pressure building there, and oh, God, she’d never wanted anyone so badly in her life.
He pressed forward to taste her mouth with his wicked grin. “Good. Because I intend to touch you”—his fingers traveled up to the back of her head, angling her neck just enough to create room for his roaming mouth—“and kiss you”—his body was suddenly flush with hers, impossibly hard against her softer curves—“and bury my cock in that sweet, perfect pussy of yours until you scream.”
Harlow’s moan was half consent, half encouragement, and all goddamned pleasure. Connor swung her toward his bed, walking her back until her legs bumped against the mattress. But rather than sitting down beside her after he guided her over the soft, thick cotton, he surprised her by kneeling against the carpet at the foot of the bed.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
His motions didn’t even consider slowing down. “I’m undressing you. I meant what I said, sweetheart.” He wrapped a hand around the back of her calf to lift her foot from the floor, planting himself between her knees. “I want to make you feel good, and if you’re going to let me, I’m giving you everything.”
Carefully, he slid one boot from her foot, then repeated the move on the other. Her socks were next, finding the floor after a pair of swift tugs, and Connor turned his attention to her leggings.
“I do like these,” he murmured, and even though Harlow’s eyes had adjusted to the shadows enough for her to catch the fire in the stare he’d raked over her legs, she’d have felt it like a touch, even in the dead of night. His hands followed, creating just enough friction with the thin material to light Harlow up with need. “But I want to take them off so I can see you.”
Harlow realized in the beat that followed that he was asking permission, and she nodded to give it. Connor hooked his fingers over the waistband of her leggings, lowering them and her thong slowly, until she was bare. His hands moved back up, shaping the outside of her thighs and hips and waist until he reached her rib cage to make quick work of her bra before moving back to take her in. Although he was still fully clothed, the reverent look on his face said she hadn’t lost an ounce of balance with him, even in her nakedness.
So she let him look.
“Christ,” came his low curse as his gaze traveled over her, inch by inch. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”
In that moment, with his eyes on her, looking all the way in, Harlow didn’t just feel beautiful.
She felt truly seen.
Not wanting to wait—her patience had been waning since the second they’d crossed his thresh
old, really—she shifted back over the duvet. Connor took the invitation, pausing only to kick out of his shoes before stretching out beside her. Propping himself up on one elbow, he used his larger frame to his advantage, pulling her close with his other arm while trailing a string of wet, wicked kisses down her neck. Her nipples tingled at the proximity of his mouth, a cry ripping free from her throat when he didn’t wait to close his lips around one.
“Oh, God.” Sensations burst through her, and she had no hope of checking them. The soft rasp of Connor’s beard on her skin that heightened what he was doing with his wildly talented tongue. The throb of her clit, desperate to be touched. The pure goodness of his hands holding her steady.
She might die, right here on this bed, but with how deeply Harlow felt his mouth on her body right now?
It would fucking be worth it.
“I did promise,” Connor said past his grin, pulling away from her tight, glossy nipple just far enough to look up at her. “Now lay back and let me be a man of my word.”
Harlow did. Surrendering to the feelings she’d been pushing back for too long, she settled in against the mattress while Connor lavished her body with attention. He alternated between light brushes of his fingers and mouth and harder, more purposeful touches. Each one made her greedier than the last, and by the time he shifted to move from her breasts to her belly, then even lower, she was practically vibrating from all the sensations pulsing under her skin.
“Do you remember when I said I’d give you what you need?” Connor asked. His mouth hovered above one hip bone, so close to the spot where she was desperate for it that she nearly came from his soft exhale alone.
“Yes.” Harlow’s voice trembled, more whisper than word.
Connor slid a hand to her inner thigh, pushing it wide as he made room to move to the space he’d created.
But he never broke eye contact with her. “Good, because I’m here for it, Harlow. The more you want, the more I’ll give. So, take what you need. I’ve got you.” He placed a kiss directly above her sex, gentle and reverent. “I promise.”
Between Me & You: An Enemies to Lovers Workplace Romance (Remington Medical Book 3) Page 23