The sensible thing to do is nothing.
Letting his anger grow and fester is really the smartest course of action. It would be better for both of us if we felt nothing but ire toward each other. Anger is less confusing than the complexity of emotions we’ve been tripping over since the day we broke up.
I should stay in here.
Don’t move, Harper.
But I can’t let things lie like this.
I can’t stand letting him think that our relationship was nothing more to me than a weapon to hurl at my mother. We may not necessarily be right for each other long-term, but I would never use him that way. Whatever our differences, West doesn’t deserve to be treated like that. Yes, there’s been some combat ever since we broke up. Yes, there’s been some hostility. But things took a bad turn tonight.
Tonight was the first time since the breakup that blood has been shed.
And I just… I can’t have him hate me.
Decision made, I push up from my bed and leave the safe confines of my room. The house is dark and silent as I walk down the hallway. Once I reach his closed door, my hand pauses mid-air as uncertainty creeps in.
What if I only make things worse?
What if I’ve damaged this beyond repair?
Galvanizing the last surviving brave troops inside me, I rap my knuckles against the wood. There’s no light shining through the crack below his door. Surely, he’s not asleep yet?
When no answer comes, I slowly turn the knob and ease the door open. His bedroom is pitch-black and quiet. No rustling of bedsheets, no clicking of keys on a touchscreen, no light emanating from any electronic devices. Holy shit, is he even breathing?
A lamp is clicked on.
It bathes the room in a soft, golden glow. After my eyes adjust to the sudden illumination, I take in his mostly naked form lying on top of his rumpled sheets, in nothing but his briefs. His expression is hard as he places both arms behind his head, a position that highlights the bulk of his biceps.
Hot damn, he’s got some good arms. And abs. And those tattoos on his arm…yum.
“Help you, princess?”
No smile. No inflection in his voice. No movement from any other muscle in his face except those necessary to speak.
Has he been sitting up in bed this whole time? In the dark? Because that can only mean one thing. He’s plotting my death.
I take a second to re-group because I’m not used to this cold routine from him. He’s usually so lively and passionate. Even the times when he’s pissed at me, there’s always stark emotion in his eyes, in his demeanor.
Now, there’s just…nothing.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” I say in a timid voice. “For tonight. What I did, it didn’t mean what you thought, but I can see how it came off that way. I wasn’t using you. I’m just so sick of my mother judging me and everything I do, I didn’t want to give her one more reason to criticize me. She’s got enough ammunition in her arsenal as it is.”
If I had a hammer and chisel handy, I guarantee I could have cracked him right down the center with one tap. He’s that icy.
“You don’t owe me an apology,” he grates out, almost sneering. “In fact, we don’t owe each other anything at all. The slate is clean. We can move on.”
I worry my bottom lip. “Actually, I do still owe you something. You did me a huge favor tonight, and we made a deal. Tell me what you want.”
When he angles his head to the side and taps his feet together to the tune of a ticking clock, I immediately get tingles. I’m about to regret saying that.
But…a deal is a deal.
Too much time has already passed. Way more than my usual ten second limit. He needs to hurry the hell up so I can get the hell out of this room before all hell breaks loose.
“Well?” I prompt impatiently. “Have you made up your mind? What do you want?”
He narrows his eyes. “You.”
With that one word, he manages to freeze all time and space. “Wh-what?”
“I want you, Harper. Still do, no matter how much you piss me off.”
What exactly is he saying? He wants me for sex? Just sex? That sounds simple on paper, but could I actually do that? Theory and application are worlds apart in this particular scenario.
“Uh, pardon?”
Sitting up straighter, he crosses his arms over his chest. Whatever you do, don’t look down at his lap.
“What went down between us three months ago,” he says, gesturing between our bodies, “I didn’t expect it to cause the problems that it did. That night, I thought we were just having a fight. Thought we would both cool off, get over it, and we’d be good the next day. I didn’t know things were going to blow up like that.”
“That’s what—”
He throws his hand up, cutting me off. “I know how you feel about it now, and I get that I crossed a line. I’m not saying my feelings on that particular subject have changed, and I don’t expect them to with you. But I’m saying that it’s something I can work on. It doesn’t have to be a constant problem between us.”
He’s basically saying that no matter what, he’s never going to like Shae. They aren’t going to get along, and nothing’s going to change on that front. But he’s not going to make it an issue again.
Am I okay with that?
I guess I should be, considering that’s the exact situation with Quinn, Sloane, and Gretchen. All three of them have made their opinions of Shae known—they just don’t bring her up to me anymore. My friendship with her is not a factor in my friendships with them, so why should my relationship with West be any different?
Because he still doesn’t understand it.
Deep down, he still doesn’t approve of how I defend and support her. Is there a more significant meaning behind that? A fundamental reason he’s not on my side with something so important to me? Is that alone a sign that we aren’t meant to be together?
Or am I just being too nitpicky?
“I don’t know, West,” I hear myself saying before I’ve had time to consider the words. “This rollercoaster, back and forth, on-and-off thing between us is already complicated enough. I’m not sure turning it back on is the right move.”
He purses his lips, almost in annoyance. Then a gleam enters his eyes, as if a light bulb has just clicked on inside his brain. “You think all we had was just sex. Or at least, that’s what you’re trying to convince yourself of.”
“And maybe that’s the truth.”
“Then why can’t I stop thinking about you?”
It hurts when I swallow because my heart has somehow climbed up into my throat and gotten stuck there. “Because you see me every day.”
It’s impossible to forget anyone when you’re trapped together with no way out.
“Why do I still want to make you smile? Make you laugh? Why does seeing you happy make me happy? The same as seeing you in pain causes me pain. Tell me that, Harper.”
“Couples usually have a mourning period after a breakup. A time of transition between being a couple and becoming exes. Since we’ve been living together, we never had that mourning period. Everything when we were a couple is still fresh in our minds, and it’s being confused with the present.”
“You’re saying we’re just confused,” he summarizes, his voice skeptical. “That the reality of our breakup over three months ago hasn’t fully sunk in with us yet.”
“It makes sense, doesn’t it?”
His chin raises. “What if we should have never broken up in the first place?”
This room is too small. My breathing is too loud and heavy. Oh, God, are the walls closing in on me?
“It wasn’t working, West.”
He scowls. “Bullshit. It was working just fine until that night. Great, actually, and you know it.”
Yes, it was.
I can’t deny that, even to myself in my own head. Those three weeks may have been short, but they were the happiest of my life without question.
�
�Why are you doing this?” I whisper, feeling tears sting the back of my eyes.
“Because I miss you.”
There it is. He said it.
And he might as well have plucked the words right out of my mouth.
I can’t work out anything inside my head when he’s putting me on the spot like this. Not to mention, he’s finally looking me in the eyes. No longer using the avoidance maneuvers he utilized at Mother’s house. He’s staring me straight in the face, and the force of it casts a spell over me. I can’t find the will to lie to him when he looks at me with such conviction. When he’s being so open, so honest.
It’s like Jim Carey’s character in Liar, Liar. I physically can’t lie, so the truth just spills out of me.
“I miss you, too.”
He inhales deeply, acting like it’s the first breath he’s taken all night. “You want to know how you can pay me back for tonight? You want to know how you can make things even between us? Give me another chance, Harper. One last shot. If I lose you a second time, then I never deserved to call you mine in the first place.”
He’s asking me to go all in again.
Do I fold? Or do I see his bet? I mean, what’s the worst that could happen if I give in?
My heart could get carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey again.
But then I flashback to those three blissful weeks with him. That level of happiness was the real deal. So, while the risk is certainly high in this situation, the reward could be even greater.
“If you want me back that badly,” I say, intentionally lacing my voice with silk, “if you miss me that much, then what’s stopping you from coming over here?”
Surprise briefly flickers over his features before he covers it with his signature brand of confidence. He nods at me. “You.”
“Me?”
“You’re going to have to woo me, princess. After tonight, and after having to watch you prance around in your tight little shorts and sports bras for the last three months—”
“Hey, you hardly ever wear a damn shirt!”
He grins smugly. No doubt, he’s recalling the many times I told him in those three weeks how much I loved his arms, abs, and ass.
What can I say, I’m a Triple A girl.
“Nevertheless, you’ve been torturing me, and you’ve been enjoying it,” he goes on. “So, I think I deserve to be courted a little. I’m talking the whole nine yards. Flowers, chocolates, jewelry. I want to be swept off my feet.”
Still wearing the royal blue dress from dinner, I reach behind me and pull down the zipper. His eyes are rapt on my body as the dress is lowered to my waist, over my hips, and finally pools at my feet. Once I’m standing in nothing but my lacy black bra and panties, his eyes have glazed completely over.
“Huh, what do you know,” he murmurs, eyes devouring my breasts. “I’m easy.”
Pushing up to his knees, he bands his arm around my waist and pulls me down on top of him.
We go tumbling back onto the bed.
Laughing.
Nothing has felt this good in three months.
Hell, maybe ever.
And all West has managed to do is tackle me to the bed and make me laugh.
“About fucking time,” he hisses as he settles himself between my spread thighs. “I’ve been losing my goddamn mind here, princess. A man can keep it together only so long when he’s this close to the woman he wants.”
I smile up at him in satisfaction. Satisfaction that heightens when he grinds his hardness against me.
There’s my satisfaction. Right there.
“Are you saying you can’t control yourself, flyboy?”
“Not where you’re concerned.”
His mouth descends onto my neck where he feasts and laves like a man sampling dessert for the first time. If I allow myself to dwell on how fast we just took this one-eighty in our relationship—although, it’s more like a full circle—I’d get whiplash. So, I’m not going to. I’m simply going to pull West closer and bask in the light of his lust. His passion.
“You’ve been saying ‘no’ to me for months. You’ve been dangling this body in front of me, teasing me with glimpses, then taking it all away.” He lifts his head, his eyes taking on a pleading quality. “Don’t deny me anything tonight. Please?”
I am putty in his hands.
I run my finger over the dark stubble speckling his cheeks. “I’m all yours.”
His eyes drift shut, his forehead wrinkling. “Promise?”
I lean up to kiss his closed eyelids as realization finally dawns on me. This has been just as hard on him as it’s been on me.
Why have we been torturing ourselves like this? Why have we been so stupid?
“Promise.”
When his eyes shoot back open, they’ve been set ablaze with desire. “Then spread your legs for me, and spread them wide. Keep them wide. Because I need to drive hard between them. Jesus Christ, I’m gonna fuck you through the wall. I need that.”
There is so much arousal coursing through my veins I almost can’t stand it.
“How come you never talked like that when we were dating?” I ask curiously. “You seemed more reserved back then.”
Laughter shudders out of him. “One, because I had more control at that point. I thought I had all the time in the world to show you everything I wanted to. If I’d known it was going to end so soon, I might have done things differently.”
Even through the dense fog of need controlling all my major faculties right now, another part of me calls out to him at those words. The urge to soothe runs deep within me, but I know that time will come later. I don’t want either of us to recall the pain. Not now.
Right now, all that should exist is the promise of tomorrow.
“And two?”
He sucks in a shaky breath. “Two, because I didn’t want to scare you off. Having a lead foot on the gas right from the beginning can freak some women out. And I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
I frown. “About…?”
He delivers three jarring pumps of his hips that have my eyes fluttering. “I like to be unleashed when I fuck, Harper. I don’t like barriers. It can get pretty rough, pretty wild. I didn’t want to take you too hard from the get-go in case you weren’t as into that as me.”
My mouth tugs upward. If he ever thought I wouldn’t be down for some rough sex, then we clearly still have more to learn about each other.
He drops more of his weight onto me, increasing the pressure of his thrusts. Keeping himself propped up by his hands on either side of my hips, he grinds his brief-covered cock against my sex, nearly punching through my lace panties.
“My plan was to slowly ease you into how I like to do things, until you were comfortable with a long”—pump—“hard”—pump—“fucking.” Puuuump.
I cinch my legs tightly around his waist and squeeze. “Let me put your mind at ease. I’ve been comfortable with a long, hard fucking from you ever since that first day in the market when you asked me if I needed to be pleased.”
He groans. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to strip your clothes off right there and bend you over that jewelry table. Goddamn, your legs in that skirt. It would have looked so good shoved up to your waist as you stuck your ass in the air for my fuck. Looking over your shoulder at me while I plowed into you…”
On an animalistic roar, his fingers go for the front clasp of my bra. “Say the words, Harper. I want to hear them. And you know the ones I mean.”
I moan. “Use two fingers and…twist.”
With a twist of those fingers and one hard yank, the material is ripped down my arms and thrown to the floor.
The way his mouth parts as my breasts spill forth, pupils swallowing up the brown of his irises, is enough to make my blood boil. Air hisses through my teeth when his lips close around my nipple and pull on the flesh that puckered the instant the cool air of the room kissed it.
My fingers slide beneath the waistband of his briefs, further and fur
ther until my hands are cupping his perfectly sculpted ass. The only thing that would make this position better is if he were already thrusting inside me as I gripped and guided him by those cheeks.
“I accept your apology, by the way,” he pants against my feverish skin. Then he grazes that flesh with his teeth, eliciting a gasp from me. “But I still think I should punish you for tonight.”
I whimper. “I told you I didn’t mean—”
“Not for throwing me in your mom’s face,” he corrects, his hands drifting down to my panties, “but for making it impossible for me to fuck you in that bathroom.”
His fingers caress the damp lace, his expression clouding with single-minded intensity. Discovering just how wet he’s made me spurs his movements, sending his hips back to rocking, his shaft back to seeking.
“I was too pissed off,” he rasps. “Trying to lash out at you, trying to throw you off-balance. I never would have forgiven myself if I’d taken you like that. Even if you hadn’t pushed me away, I would have stopped myself. I’m not that big of an asshole. I hope to God you know that.”
I’ve never thought he was. Even when we’ve sparred and gone to battle, West has never taken it too far. His emotions are usually simmering too close to the surface for him to act apathetic.
“And because of that,” he adds, his gaze returning to mine, “because I had to leave that bathroom with yet another case of blue balls—the total number over the last three months has climbed well into the triple digits, in case you’re interested—I think you deserve some payback for all the teasing, the flirting, the…”
His words trail off when I slowly drag my hands up my chest. My fingers find the peaks left slick and distended by his mouth and trace circles around them.
He glares at my hands. “That’s the kind of shit I’m talking about.”
I grin. “But it’s different this time. It can’t be teasing if nothing’s off-limits anymore, right? This is just to help get you nice and warmed up.”
The Six Month Lease (Southern Hearts Club Book 2) Page 15