With the helmet secure on my head, I take his hand and follow his orders. I slide my leg across the seat and sit down.
I hear his laugh as I hold on to him for dear life. Running his fingers through mine, before letting go to grip both handles and moving us forward with the flick of his wrist. I squeal as we move, clenching my thighs tighter against the bike and squeezing him as hard as I can.
After the first few stops, I get a little more comfortable and loosen my hold. When we stop at a light, he runs his hand down my thigh, and suddenly, I feel more than the rumble of the bike between my legs. I move my hands lower, rubbing him through his jeans. The laugh I hear escape his helmet only feeds my desire more.
I turn my head to see an older woman noticing where my hands are. The look of shock on her face makes me turn my head in embarrassment. I can’t believe how different I feel when I’m with Tanner.
In the past, I was so worried about being whom I was expected to be by my peers. I was on my best behavior, making sure I never had too much to drink, always said the right thing, and made sure everyone around me was happy, even happier than I was.
When I’m with Tanner, I don’t think about anything like that. He makes me want to take care of myself. To do what I want and with a smile on my face. So, I turn my head back to the woman, running my hands back down Tanner’s pants and stroking him without trying to hide it one bit.
The light turns green, and Tanner takes off with a little more get-up, sending chills down my body. He’s right. I love this bike.
16
TANNER
“What are you smiling about?” Chris asks as he walks around the pool table.
Harper just texted me a meme. It’s a picture of Ross from Friends, sitting on the couch and smirking. The caption says, The look you give when someone is reading a story, and you know the main character is about to die.
“Nothing.” I grin as I slide the phone in my pocket.
Ryan grimaces. “Harper?”
I nod.
With our school schedules, we don’t see each other during the day, but we’re constantly talking and texting. You learn a lot about someone when you aren’t around them physically. You have no choice but to get into each other’s heads.
“I asked her to come join us. Hope you don’t mind.” I take a shot, and the ball sinks into the pocket.
“I do mind.” Ryan squints his eyes at me as I walk around the table to set up my next shot. “She bailed on you—twice.”
I slide the stick in my hand and eye up my target. Blue number two. “I appreciate your brotherly concern, but I’m a big boy, and I can handle myself.”
“I’d believe it if you were an average guy, but I’ve never seen you this into someone.” Ryan’s arms are folded with his pool stick tucked into his elbow.
I stand tall. “What should I do, not see where this goes?”
“Just keep your guard up.”
In the years we’ve been friends, I’ve never had to worry about what Ryan or Chris thought about the women I date. They’ve always been friendly to them and supportive if things didn’t go right, but they’ve never been ones to act concerned.
“What do you think?” I ask Chris, who’s sitting on a stool in the corner.
He raises a shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I agree.”
Ryan takes a step forward. “Don’t you think it’s interesting she broke up with you about your age, and then, all of a sudden, she’s begging to have you back?”
“What are you saying?”
“Does she know you’re rich?” Ryan asks.
“No.”
“You sure?” Chris asks, taking a swig of his beer. “It’s not that hard to Google Tanner Sexton.”
“And find out what? That I have Facebook or that I go to Columbia? I’m not on the company website. I don’t work there yet.”
“You’re Marina Sexton’s son. Your mom was an industry siren, and your father is known for being a newspaper magnate. You’re West Coast royalty,” Ryan explains like I don’t know exactly where I came from.
“Last I checked, we were on the East Coast.” I don’t have to look at them to know that they’re looking at me like I’m a fool.
Of course I know Harper can easily look me up. She could know I have money.
“You’re acting like an idiot,” Ryan states.
“And you’re being an asshole.” My words are loud and harsh.
The few other patrons in the bar look our way.
I motion to Paul to let him know everything’s fine back here. When I turn back to Ryan, he looks pissed. The guy is only trying to be a friend.
“The answer is, no, she doesn’t know I have money, and if she does, I don’t think she’s with me because of it. She’s coming here after work. You can scout her out yourself.”
“I will,” he says.
“Yeah, me, too.” Chris rises from his chair.
Ryan walks forward and puts a hand on my shoulder. “We care about you. That’s all. We just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“You’re a good guy, Tanner,” Chris chimes in.
When I came to New York four and a half years ago, I didn’t know a soul. I came from a prep school where everyone had money and knew your worth. Then, I sat at orientation beside these clowns.
Ryan was a nervous wreck, memorizing his schedule, while Chris asked if I had a joint to calm his friend’s nerves. Ryan slapped him on the side of the head and then proceeded to tell me how they’d been friends since grammar school in Kennebunkport, Maine. We had lunch that day and went to a party later that night.
They were cool kids, not into too much trouble and pretty funny. As the year went on and I found I wasn’t crazy about the typical college scene, they never gave me a hard time. We went out for the occasional beer or to meet women, but mostly, we hung around in diners and talked on campus. Good friends are like that. They just hang. There are no expectations or ultimatums.
During the summer before sophomore year, I told them about my upbringing and my family’s less than healthy dynamic. They never treated me differently, and they were supportive when Austin was injured in Afghanistan.
I’m not surprised they’re concerned about me. I’m surprised it’s Harper they’re questioning.
“She’s bringing Willa with her.” I try to change the conversation.
Ryan’s face lights up. “Really?”
“Their school is a few blocks away.”
“Are they bringing a friend for me?” Chris asks, and I shake my head. “Why do you always bring the women for this guy?”
“I can’t help it if they find me desirable.” Ryan opens his arms as if to show himself off.
Chris grabs a blue chalk square and lobs it at Ryan’s head, smacking him straight on his forehead.
Ryan lets out a curse and rubs his head. The front door to The Den opens, and in walks Harper and Willa.
Just the sight of her, and my chest tightens. She’s hands down the most beautiful woman in this room, and when I approach her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and bringing her into me for a quick hello kiss, I feel like the luckiest man on the planet.
Willa heads straight to Ryan. “Why is your forehead blue?”
Ryan rubs a hand to his head where the chalk left a mark. He glares at Chris, who smirks.
I pull out a chair from the table and motion for Harper to sit on my lap. Tucking a hair behind her ear, I ask, “How was your day, sweet Harper?”
She places her forehead against mine. “Someone kept me up all night, so I’m a little tired, but it was good. How about you?”
“Better now that you’re here,” I say and nod toward my friends. “These guys are giving me a run for my money in pool.”
“Hi, Chris.” Harper waves a hand toward my friends. “Hey, Ryan.”
Ryan looks over from where he’s standing with Willa. “Will you be staying tonight, or will you be playing the infamous ghost again?”
My eyes pop out of my head.
Harper places a hand on my cheek and turns me to her as she whispers, “It’s okay. I deserve that.” She kisses the side of my face and turns to Ryan. “I’m glad to see you’re looking out for your friend, but you don’t have to worry. I’ve learned my lesson.” She turns back to me with a grin on her face. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Ryan seems pleased with her response. Especially since Willa has nudged him, forcing his attention back to her.
“I have a question for you guys.” Chris saunters over to where Harper and I are sitting. He walks like a badass, but his Ron Burgundy shirt with the words I’m kind of a big deal make him look anything but. “I met this girl last night, and I don’t really know anything about her. I was thinking of Googling her to find out more intel. Maybe she’s … I don’t know … rich or something.”
I speak through a clenched jaw, “Chris—”
“Harper, what do you think?” he asks.
She tilts her head with a grimace. “I don’t know. Isn’t the whole point of dating to get to know someone? If you look them up, then you’re taking away the excitement of it all. It’s like sex without foreplay,” she says, and Chris nearly chokes on his swallow of beer. “Talking about shared interests is like heavy petting, and divulging your most intimate secrets is as good as oral. No, I wouldn’t want to learn anything about someone without experiencing it through them.”
If I wasn’t already falling for her, I would be now after she just equated getting to know someone to sex.
Chris is staring at her, blinking. “Tell me you have more friends to set me up with. If not, dude, can I please have your girl?”
“No.” I rub the inside of her thigh. “This one’s all mine.”
“Are you two Facebook official?” Ryan won’t drop it.
Harper laughs out loud as if Ryan made a joke. As she looks from me to Ryan, she realizes that he was indeed serious. The fucker.
She giggles. “Is that what you guys call it now? It’s not boyfriend/girlfriend? It’s Facebook official? You know, I’m old, so you need to keep me in the loop about these things.”
I love that she’s making fun of her age now. This is how it should be.
I pull out my phone, taking the opportunity to turn Ryan’s comment from accusatory to fact. I open my app, going to my About page, and switch the Relationship Status to In a Relationship. “Now, if only I could actually tag it to say who I’m in a relationship with. Why don’t you have Facebook?”
She grins from ear to ear. “Look who’s the cyberstalker now. I don’t have Facebook or Snapchat or Whisper or anything that my students are on. I did have an Instagram account, but I deleted it.”
“It was full of lovey-dovey pictures of her and her ex-boyfriend. You should be thankful that she deleted it,” Willa adds.
And I’m anything but thankful. I hate the idea of Harper being romantic with someone else.
The guys let the Spanish Inquisition go, and the five of us resume enjoying our evening. Chris bitches about his coursework, Harper talks about her students and her day, and Willa can’t get over my eighty-year-old neighbor’s new pink hair.
Paul comes over with a bucket of beers and a handful of dirty jokes. Harper buries her face in my neck at the punch lines, and Willa throws out a few new ones, which Paul jots down on an ordering pad for retelling.
While I can’t keep my hands off Harper, Ryan doesn’t seem to know what to do with his. He and Willa have spent the night together, yet he’s acting like he doesn’t know how to read her. He’s trying too hard to be funny, and from the way he’s leaning against the wall and then repositioning himself, he looks like he’s posing.
Willa has definitely noticed, and instead of being turned off, she puts him out of his misery by taking his hand and pulling him into her. The two are off in the corner, and Chris makes his way over to the bar to watch the end of the Knicks game.
“Question”—Harper turns her body, so she’s facing me—“does In a Relationship mean you’re casually seeing someone, or does it mean you’re off the market?”
It takes me a moment to realize she’s talking about Facebook. “That depends on what you want it to mean.”
“Oh, that’s vague.”
I grab her chin as she begins to turn away. “What do you want it to mean, Harper?”
Her mouth forms a sweet little O.
“I want it to mean you’re mine and only mine. No other women.”
“Baby, there’s not a chance in hell I’d be with anyone but you.”
“Just to clarify, we’re exclusive.”
I kiss her nose. “Yes, my girl who needs rules and order, we’re exclusive. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Life partners. Whatever you want to call it, we’re it.”
“Life partners? Way to jump the gun.”
I laugh at her scowl. “Just calling it as I see it.”
“We’re getting out of here and hitting up the club. You guys coming?” Ryan asks.
I glance up to see Ryan and Willa holding hands, motioning toward the door. Chris has his coat on and is already at the front of the bar.
I nuzzle my face in Harper’s neck. “You wanna go home, or can I take you out dancing?”
Harper reacts like my movements are tickling her as she giggles. “If you can grind as good as you can jive, then I want the dancing.”
I bite her neck and slap her ass. We grab our coats and cram into a taxi. Willa is in the middle with Ryan on one side. I slide in on the other side of the car and Harper settles on my lap.
When we pull out, Ryan speaks up again from his spot by the opposite door, “So, Harper, have you ever been to San Francisco?”
I don’t know if he’s making conversation or still digging.
“I’ve never been to California. My parents made us go to Florida every year. It’s a New York thing, I guess. Flights are cheap,” she says.
“What part of the city did you grow up in?” Ryan asks.
“Douglaston. It’s the furthest part east you can go. It’s practically in Long Island.”
“Is that like Jamaica and Corona?” Ryan wants to know.
Chris chimes in from the front seat, “Douglaston’s nice. I went to a party out there last year. It’s all country club and super Irish.”
Harper laughs. “Yeah. We don’t belong to the country club, but it’s a really nice area.”
“Where did you go to high school? I wonder if we were rivals.” Willa perks up.
“Saint Francis Prep.”
“I didn’t realize you were a private school girl. Did you wear the uniforms and everything?” I ask, loving the vision of Harper in a schoolgirl skirt.
“Tall socks and all.” She grins, pulling me closer to her. “I still have my old uniform. Maybe I’ll put it on for you tonight.”
“Harper and I are going to skip out on the club,” I say, playfully pulling her toward me to kiss her lips.
“Get a room,” they all chant.
Once we’re at the club, we wait in a short line and grab drinks. We can’t hear each other well, so we stand around and people-watch, leaning in close when we do want to say something. The DJ plays “Him and I” by G-Eazy and Halsey. The beat thumps through the bass, and my shoulders start to move.
I grab Harper’s waist and don’t even wait for her permission as I lead her toward the dance floor. I take her hand and run it around my neck, and I put her other over my heart. My hands are on her hip and cheek, and my entire body sways and grinds into her.
As soon as the male rap portion starts, my mouth is moving with every line, singing them to my girl. She laughs out loud, her head leaning back with the motion. I run my tongue up her neck.
When her eyes return to mine, they’re hooded, heated, and she’s no longer laughing. Her hips roll from side to side as her hand runs down my side. When the chorus comes on, she sings along with Halsey, mouthing the lyrics like she means every single word.
She sings about forever truth, our crazy love, and this relationshi
p that is me and her till the end.
My fingers lace in her hair, and I bring her closer, mouthing the words into her lips.
Her hands travel lower, pulling my hips into her. I wish like hell we were home and not on a crowded dance floor.
We go back and forth, singing for each other, touching one another, putting on a show for hundreds of people, who are probably so into themselves that they’re not noticing the two people falling into this moment in the middle of the dance floor.
The song.
The lyrics.
Her touch.
My fucking soul.
I don’t know what Harper is doing to me, but I do know I never want it to stop.
The next song comes on, and the beat slows down. Her tongue sweeps against mine, and I’m done for. I run my hands up her waist as my breathing turns heavy. As I sway her hips from side to side, my cock twitches at the way she lets me take control of her movements.
Lifting her hands up, she wraps them around my neck, running her fingers up the shaved portion of my head until she gets to where I have my hair pulled back. She tugs lightly, causing a rush of excitement to race down my spine.
When my lips crash against hers, I know without a doubt that this girl is different and will absolutely be the last woman I ever hold in my life.
17
HARPER
“Someone’s been whistling a lot lately.”
I look over to April as she fastens her boot buckles. They’re hooker-height heels with gold clasps. Her hair is in a high bun to show off the thin gold hoops in her ears.
With a hand over my hip, I look at her in mock defense. “What’s wrong with a little mouth ditty?”
“Is that what we’re calling it these days?”
I throw a kitchen towel at her from my place near the sink. “I’m smitten.”
“I can see that. You’ve seen Tanner every day for two weeks. I was about to assume you’d moved off my futon.”
I open the dishwasher to unload it. “His place is close to work. It logistically makes sense. Besides, I’ve been home.” I take out the silverware and place it on the counter. “To get my clothes.”
Tanner: A Sexton Brothers Novel Page 16