“Oh, but you will.” Michael stands up and removes his cufflinks, and it’s so fucking hot watching him, my toes curl. When he pulls out the knot in his tie, I bite my lip. He’s just starting to unbutton his shirt when I hear a voice in the living room.
“Harlow? Where are you?”
Michael and I exchange a surprised look.
“Expecting company?” he asks, his hands paused.
“No!” I stage whisper. “It sounds like my boss, but I have no idea what she could be doing here!”
“How did she get in?”
“She must have kept a key. This used to be her place, remember?”
“Hey!” Willow knocks on my bedroom door. “You in there? Get dressed, we’re going out!”
“Um, one second!” I scramble to find clothes as Michael laughs silently, shaking his head. “I’ll be right out.”
I manage to tug on underwear, my shorts and tank, and a robe that was hanging on the back of my door in about ten seconds. Putting a finger over my lips, I look at Michael, and he nods. Then I open the bedroom door just enough to slide out, pulling it shut right behind me.
Willow is standing in my living room, hands on her hips. “That’s not what I had in mind for a festive holiday party outfit,” she says. “Can you put something else on? And maybe brush your hair?”
I pat my bedhead hair and tighten the robe around me. “What festive holiday party?”
“It’s a Christmas party hosted by Laura Thompson from Reid’s office, and it’s always super fun. Plus, there’s someone there who wants to meet you.”
“Who?”
“A guy.” Willow’s expression is sly. “Laura Thompson’s little brother. She showed me his photo last year and he’s hot as hell. I know he’d be perfect for you. I don’t need to remind you that I’m a spectacular matchmaker, do I?”
“No, but—”
“Then hurry up, we’re already late. Reid’s waiting for us in the lobby.”
The last thing I want to do is leave my apartment to go meet someone’s little brother at a Christmas party. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not feeling well.”
“You’re feeling fine, you’re just depressed. Although nicely done on the Christmas tree.” Willow gestures toward the spruce in the corner. “That’s a step in the right direction.”
“I’m not depressed, I swear. And you have to go now.” Taking her by the shoulders, I spin her around and walk her toward the door. “Bye. Say hi to Reid. Have fun at the party.”
Willow sighs as she steps into the hallway. “Fine. But if that super hot guy is there and asks about you, you’ll be sorry you spent the entire night holed up in this apartment.”
“Maybe.”
“You can’t just retreat, Harlow. You have to go after love if you want to find it. You’re not just going to look up and find it standing there.”
It almost makes me burst out laughing. Maybe I hadn’t found love tonight standing there in the lobby, but I had found a damn good time. “Night, Willow. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Drive carefully in this weather, okay?”
Before she can try to drag me out again, I shut the door in her face, put the chain on, and rush back into my bedroom.
I close the door, toss my robe aside and lean back against the wood. It feels extra cool because I’m still burning up from that orgasm. “Hi.”
Michael smiles. “Hi. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, my boss was just … it doesn’t matter.”
“Come here,” Michael says crooking his finger at me.
Chapter 6
Michael
While Harlow stepped out to deal with whomever it was that stopped by, I lay there trying to make sense of what the hell is happening.
How did this girl, whom I just met, manage to get me to break all of my rules? I never fuck on the first date. And I usually spend a good amount of time making sure I don’t end up with a stage-five clinger.
Still, I can’t seem to help myself.
“Kiss me,” I demand.
And she does.
It takes me no time to get hard again. The second I saw those brown eyes after she closed the door, flushed and still glowing a little after she came on my tongue—it’s all I need. She tastes like sugar and spice and everything fucking fantastic.
“You have too much on,” Harlow says as she stands at the edge of the bed right between my legs.
“Yeah?”
“Definitely.”
“Well, what are you going to do about it?”
She grins. “I’m thinking that maybe we should remove some of it.”
“Just maybe?”
Her fingers move to the buttons of my dress shirt. She slowly pushes each one out of its hole, moving down lower and lower. I groan as she lets her nails scrape down my undershirt, loving the way her breath hitches when she feels the muscles beneath.
Harlow drops to her knees. “I need to be eye level,” she murmurs, her voice thick with desire. I swear, I’m going to blow like a teen on prom night if she wraps that fuckable mouth around my cock.
I close my eyes for a second, thinking of anything unsexy to try to get a grip.
Spiders. Pizza. Elephants.
Then she makes a low moan and there’s not a damn thing I can think of to reduce how fucking turned on I am.
“Promise me you’re not crazy,” I find myself saying, because this girl is pretty damn perfect. Not that I think crazy people realize they’re nuts, but I’m praying she’s not. My last girlfriend was a money-grubbing bitch. All she wanted was the family money and status.
It’s why I’ve sworn off dating anyone who knows who the hell I am.
Michael West, heir to the West Investment millions.
She looks up through her sooty lashes. “I’m not. Promise me you’re not an asshole who is going to treat me like a pariah tomorrow.”
I take her chin in my hand, forcing her to look at me. “I promise.”
“Good, then you’re still overdressed and I’m very much wanting to get back where we were.”
“Me too, baby.”
Fuck, I’m calling her baby. And not in that condescending way that some dudes do. The way I say it is like all that happened tonight was what was meant to. Like some fucking Christmas miracle is happening and Santa brought me exactly what I asked for.
A beautiful girl with red bra and panties that I want to ride all night.
Harlow goes for the button of my pants and I stand. That right there is a sight. She’s on her knees in front of me, the perfect height to take my cock right now.
And then she brings her face right there. She hooks her fingers in my pants, taking the boxer briefs down with her.
“Merry Christmas to me,” she says with a look of awe.
Yeah, that’s every man’s fantasy right here. A girl who looks just as turned on to suck my dick as she was when I was eating her out.
“I think we were both on the nice list,” I say as I run my fingers through her hair.
“Let’s find out.”
Harlow doesn’t hesitate. Her perfect lips wrap around my dick and she takes me deep. “Fuck.” I let out a groan, head falling back as she sucks.
I’ve always been more of a giver when it comes to sex. I get turned on by the woman getting off, and I love nothing more than pushing her past her limits. Right now, though, it’s really nice to receive. Her hot mouth is exactly where I want to be. Harlow’s fingernails scrape against my thigh, sending a myriad of sensations through my body.
She bobs her head up and down, and then I slip my fingers in her silky brown hair. “Let me fuck your mouth.”
Harlow moans and I take that as permission to do as I please. God, this is best fucking night.
I start to move my hips, her hands now gripping my ass. “You look so hot on your knees with my cock in your mouth.”
She takes me even deeper and the surprise of it almost makes me lose it.
I jerk my hips back, not wanting to come too early and then I pul
l her up. “I want you.”
“I want you too.”
“We can stop now.” I give her another out.
Harlow’s big brown eyes are filled with desire. “No, no stopping.”
Yes, Virginia, there really is a Santa Claus. The quote from It’s a Beautiful Life springs into my head instantly.
I don’t say a word as I lift her up and gently lay her down on the bed. She’s so damn beautiful. It’s funny that in just one night this girl has me all mixed up. I blew off my family party, carried a tree, and took her shopping, all just to see her smile.
I can’t remember the last time I cared about something so simple.
She isn’t here because I’m some rich guy who can afford to buy her entire apartment, let alone a tree stand. Sure she might not be able to sing worth a damn, and she doesn’t know how to open a door properly or have even a basic knowledge of plant life, but she’s kind. She cares about her friends and her job. And she has the most stunning smile I’ve ever seen.
Which she’s giving me right now as I look down at her.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi.”
“What are you thinking?”
“That your smile is beautiful,” I answer honestly.
Her eyes soften and she touches her hand to my lips, moving her thumb. It does something to my heart.
“You have no idea how glad I am that you rescued me,” she says softly.
That makes two of us. I’m hoping I can rescue her a lot more too. I want to wake up with her in my arms on Christmas morning and start a whole new tradition of holiday unwrapping. I want to bring her to my parents’ house, introduce her to my annoying sister, and then ring in the New Year with a kiss at midnight.
Where the hell did this feeling come from? Jesus, I’m losing my damn mind.
I shift the conversation back to the sex. Sex is what she wants. Sex is what we both want. I don’t need to think beyond it. “Because you’re about to have some earth-shattering sex?”
“No, that’s just a bonus.”
“Condom?” I say, trying to keep myself distracted. Because I can’t possibly be falling for her. No, it’s the snow. The cold has somehow frozen my brain. That’s all.
She reaches over to the nightstand. “I’m really hoping Willow left some condoms.” Harlow digs around in the drawer and then screams with delight. “I found some! Oh, we have a whole strip.”
I take it from her hand, ripping the wrapper open with my teeth and roll it on.
“Here, let me help,” she says as her hand slides down my dick, unrolling the condom as she goes.
Not wanting to wait another second, I take her wrists in my one hand and pin them over her head. Then I surge inside her with raw force.
“Oh! Oh God!” she moans and I give her a second to grow accustomed to my size.
After another second and feeling the way her pussy grips me, I start to move. I hold her down, thrusting inside her over and over. Her eyes close and she moans again. I move my free hand down between us and rub her clit.
I’m so fucking close.
I want her to come again, this time around my dick.
“Harlow,” I urge her. “Come, baby. Come again.”
Her eyes close and she takes her lower lip between her teeth. “I’m going to come,” she moans and I increase pressure on her clit.
I feel her tighten. “Yes, that’s it, Harlow, let go.”
And she does.
I thrust harder, chasing my own release, which comes in record time. The feel of her pussy milking me is too much. I surrender to it, taking the last moment of bliss, and work to catch my breath.
That was … whoa.
After a few seconds I lift my head to look at her. Her hair is spread out on her pillow, her lips are swollen, and a lazy smile plays on her face.
Her eyes open and she lets out a soft chuckle. “If that’s being on the naughty list, I’m never coming off.”
I laugh and rub my nose against hers. “Are you okay?”
“I’m glorious. I’m pretty sure I heard angels sing on that last one.”
“Me too.”
“Glory be to God and all that.”
“Pretty sure God wasn’t with us, but I’m open to you thinking I’m close to being one,” I tease.
“You earned it.”
I kiss her once and then reluctantly get off the bed. When I glance back at her, she’s now clutching a pillow and curling herself up. Her ex is a goddamn fool, and I’m very happy he is.
Chapter 7
Harlow
Best. Sex. Ever.
Like, ever, ever.
People write songs about the sex we just had and they aren’t sad ones. Jesus, who knew I could have multiples?
I want to scream into the pillow but manage to pull myself together. I told him I wasn’t crazy, and that might give him some doubts. But this day has been a whirlwind and I’m not really sure how to process it all.
First, I had mind-blowing sex. That in itself is worth screaming about.
Second, I really freaking like him. Michael is fun and even though he’s a little naughty, sometimes it’s good to balance the goodness I tend to lean toward. I’m always the good girl, doing what people ask, finding them love, blah, blah. Maybe putting my tiara away and grabbing the broomstick will be a change that leads to more fun.
And by fun I mean multiples.
Third, I am not a one-night-stand girl, and this is a problem.
My sexual conquests always have meaning, and I at least know the guy a little, but I don’t know Michael at all. But he’s sweet, he can put a tree up, and he must have at least some feelings toward me, right?
Do I ask him to stay?
Do I see if he wants to go for another round?
I don’t know the rules in this situation, and that’s something I’m not used to.
All of these are first-world problems, but it’s the world I live in.
I chew on my thumbnail as I mull it all over and try to think logically. If Michael wants to leave, he can—it’s not like he has to drive. And if this is all we ever have, I can be a mature adult. Not to mention, this isn’t my forever apartment, so if it gets super awkward, I’ll just move.
It’s not that serious. It’s just a night.
One incredible, unforgettable night.
“You okay?” he asks, and I jump a little.
The pillow is covering my bare breasts, and again, I’m faced with not knowing where to go with this. “Uhh, yeah, I just need to … use the bathroom.”
He smiles, his naked body on full display and it takes every ounce of my restraint not to stare at his cock. I really like it. It did magical things, and I’d like to see if it was just a fluke or not.
I mentally slap myself. I promised not to be crazy and I will uphold my end of the bargain.
I do my business and walk back out. When I enter the bedroom, Michael is on the bed, covers up to his waist, but his chest is bare. God, he is a work of art.
“Come here,” he says with his arms open.
And I go without pause.
“I know you said you never do that …”
I look up. “I don’t. I’m a serial monogamist. Not really by choice, but I typically only sleep with guys I really like, and never on day one.”
“It’s not really my normal, either. I usually at least know more than just some basic information.”
That makes me feel marginally better. “What do you want to know?”
“Family?”
“My parents are still happily married, for over forty years now. I have one brother who isn’t married, and I swear never will be. Even though I’ve tried to match him at least three times.”
“So your matchmaking skills are a questionable thing.”
I sit up with narrowed eyes. “I’m the best in this city.”
He grins. “Good to know.”
I sense challenge in his voice so I don’t let it go. “Seriously! I have more marriages than Wi
llow, who owns the company, and her sister, combined. I’m like a super matchmaker.”
“One who doesn’t believe in romance?”
I sigh and pull the blanket up to cover my chest. “Okay, if we’re talking about me, that’s different. In my experience, romance is fleeting. It comes and goes and people claim they’re always searching for it. But it’s not something you find, it’s something you work for. I want love. I want a guy who looks at me twenty years down the road and thinks I’m cute with my hair turning gray and my wrinkly face. Romance is this …” I lean down and kiss him, “… feeling in your chest.”
His hand comes up, tangling in my hair, and then he pulls me back to his mouth. He kisses me reverently and I feel it in my toes. “Romance isn’t bad.”
“No,” I agree. “It’s not, but love makes your heart race and it is a simmer that doesn’t ever fully go out.”
Our eyes stay on each other’s. My chest is tight as we both are silent, but I feel like he’s saying something anyway. Before I can search too deep, he releases me. I sink back against his chest, not wanting to think about what that was.
Michael clears his throat. “Okay, so brother, work, and parents are covered. What else should I know?”
“Hmm.” I use this time to compose myself. “I’m a Scorpio, I like horribly cheesy Christmas movies, I love guys who rescue girls with trees.”
His laughter vibrates against my skin. “I like girls who need rescuing.”
“Ahh, so you’re a Romeo type?”
“I’m not sure I’m a type at all.”
“Everyone is a type,” I tell him.
Then I sit up and study him. Now that my libido is a little in check, I look at Michael as I would a client. How would I match him? Maybe this is the approach I should take on dating. Leave the emotions and that lusty goodness out and start to be analytical, the way I would if I were helping a client.
This thought has merit.
“Why do you look like you’re about to dissect me?”
I grin. “Would you let me try?” And then I realize that he probably isn’t thinking the same meaning as I am. “I mean, let me look at you not just as the guy who gave me not one but two fantastic orgasms, but as a potential match for someone.”
I Have Lived And I Have Loved: A Charity Romance Collection Page 19