"According to him, one week after we started seeing each other he began sleeping with every girl on campus. He was good looking—nothing like you, but still attractive. Compared to you he was a dud in bed, so looking back, I don't know why so many girls slept with him. I guess the girls didn't talk to each other like they usually do because he was in a relationship and it wouldn’t look good for either of them. Plus, Derek couldn't risk getting caught. I felt like such an idiot when it all came out. I had taken a position at the Whitmore offices in Melbourne; he couldn't get a job." I sigh and shake my head while picking imaginary lint of the sheets.
"He sat in our tiny one bedroom apartment all day, fucking random women and waiting for me to come home and cook dinner and wash his clothes. One day, I received a phone call from my best friend, Lo; she was begging me to meet her at my apartment. It was lunchtime, so I went. I kind of knew what I was going to find. It’s strange; I knew it would hurt, but I still wanted to see for myself. And there he was. Banging some blonde on MY bed. He saw me and threw the poor girl off him onto the floor."
"Poor girl? She was sleeping with your boyfriend." He looks at me, his eyebrows are puckered in confusion, waiting for my explanation.
"She didn't know. She thought he worked nights, and that’s why they could only meet during the day. She was devastated. They had been seeing each other for about three months and she thought it was real. I felt sorry for her."
"This guy sounds like a real fucking asshole."
I look down at my hands and continue. "Yeah, he is. I threw him out, obviously. Like an idiot, I let him keep his key so he could come back and get his shit when I wasn't home. I went to collect some clothes the next day and he was there, begging me to forgive him, then when he realized there was no way that was going to happen, he got a bit heavy-handed—but luckily, nothing too serious."
I look up at Lincoln and his face is angry, really angry. The vein in his neck is visible and his cheeks are reddening. I’m so glad I didn’t go into detail, he would have lost it.
"It’s okay, Lincoln, it wasn’t too bad. I think we should stop reminiscing for today."
Through clenched teeth he asks, "Not too bad? Are you fucking kidding me? Any man that hits a woman deserves to have his fucking ass thrown in jail."
"Lincoln, you look angry. I think its best we stop ta—"
"Tell me that's it, Harbour?"
Deep breaths, girl . . .
"I'd like to, but we’re being honest, so, no. That's not it. The next week was crazy. He'd turn up at my work, send flowers with threatening notes—you know, typical stalker-shit."
"Did you report him? Did he hurt you again?" Lincoln's eyes are pinched shut and his hands are fisted next to him.
"No, I didn't. I was going to but that morning I was offered the position in the New York offices. He doesn't know I'm here, so my escape was easy."
"It wouldn't be very wise of him to try and track you down, I can assure you. What about your family?" I give him a sad smile.
"I miss them a lot. My dad was so angry at what happened. Derek turned up at my parents’ house a week after I had left and my dad, normally a calm and easygoing guy, broke Derek's nose." I laugh at the memory of the hysterical phone call from my sister. Hysterical, as in laughing-her-ass-off.
"Do you think you'll want to go back home?"
"No, never. This is my home now. As much as I miss my family, I’ll only go there to visit. I wasn't me back then. I was Derek's fat girlfriend. The stupid one who let him mess around."
"Fat?" He asks curiously.
"Yeah, I was this size when I met him, so he used my low self-esteem against me. Mental abuse was his weapon of choice, and he wielded that better than a samurai with a sword."
"You're not fat, Harbour. In fact, the first thing I noticed about you in the elevator was that you got some sexy curves while I was away. You're perfect." He runs his hands slowly over my thigh and up my belly, leaving a trail of fire behind. When he cups my breast I arch into his palm.
"These are fucking perfect. Don't change. And if you won't embrace your curves, I'd be more than happy to."
He kisses me sweetly at first, and then pulls me to him. I straddle his hips and I can feel his erection between us on my belly. He cradles my face in his hands and looks in my eyes. I feel more naked in that one moment than I ever had in my life.
"Harbour, I don't care about your fucking ex; all I care about is fucking you. As much as I want to sit here and talk about our exes, I think we can come up with something much more fun to do with our mouths." Holy fuck. I can't speak; I'm so aroused by his crass words that I'm scared to open my mouth. I feel like there are only erotic moans and other naughty sounds waiting to jump out.
"Ditto." That's the best I can do.
We don't say any more words, but my moans all get their chance to come out. And my screams. He fucks me harder this time, like a man on a mission. It’s like he wants to fuck me so hard I forgets my ex’s name. Dale? David? Yep, mission accomplished.
After, we once again lie in bed, limbs tangled, breathing heavy from our quick and hard session. "Okay, I think we've got to know each other enough for one day. Let’s go get some dinner," he says as he rises from the bed and slaps my ass.
We decide to order in since I have nothing appropriate to wear out and frankly, we can’t keep our hands off each other. The night is spent in front of the fire, drinking wine and enjoying light conversation. We talk about our families and funny memories from growing up. Our family life is very similar, with both our parents still in love, and we both have siblings. We both had great childhoods except Linc's was a bit more lavish.
My family went on vacation to the beach; his family went to their island. It was sweet, though; My Dianne Island was named after Linc's mum when his dad, Mitchell, bought it for her for their tenth wedding anniversary. I like the sound of Lincoln's family. His parents didn't believe in making more money than they needed; they spent it, if not on themselves, then on the many charities they founded. They love to throw huge parties and have all of their friends and colleagues present. These gatherings apparently range from simple barbecue lunches with about one hundred guests to their charity galas, which cater to hundreds of people.
When Linc speaks about his family, he lights up. He's been smiling the whole time, even when he mentions his cheeky younger sister, Jacqueline. Benjamin and Jackie are twins. They're twenty-four years old and both working in fields they love. Jackie is a photographer, and Benjamin owns a chain of very popular bars around the USA. Apparently, Jackie likes to date bad boys, which Ben and Linc hate of course. He thinks she might just do it to piss him of.
"So you think it’s okay for my younger sister to date bad guys?" He asks playfully.
"No, not bad guys, bad boys, there’s a difference." He looks at me expectantly and I sigh.
"Bad boys do naughty things, bad guys are just bad. Trust me, I know the difference."
He raises his eyebrows questioningly, smirks and then hauls me onto his shoulder and smacks my ass hard as he walks us to the bedroom.
"How about I show you how bad I can be?" He growls.
He does, and I love every second of it.
Chapter Thirteen
It's Sunday afternoon, and Lincoln and I haven't left his apartment. He had food delivered so apart from collecting that and going to the bathroom we've been in our "bubble."
We slept next to each other last night, which was nice—too nice. I feel like I need to put the brakes on and slow this train down. My new mantra is Don't fall in love, and I repeat it over and over in my head. We've only really known each other for two weeks. I can't already be having these thoughts. A part of me wishes he would do something to remind me that this isn't permanent. Maybe call me a cab, or something. Instead, he's been talking openly about his family, saying things like, "They'd love you," and "Wait until you see my parents’ house in the Hamptons". We've even talked more about our exes, which surprised me because around S
avannah, it was a touchy subject.
"What’s going through your head?" I’m sitting in between his legs and he rests his head on mine easily because of the height difference.
"I don't want it to be weird tomorrow . . ."
"It will only be if you let it. We'll be fine. It’ll be hard to keep my hands off you, but I’m sure I can survive the eight or so hours." He nuzzles into my neck and kisses it.
"I guess you're right. Also, can you not mention the attack to anyone? I don't want Simon to hear about it, especially."
"Why’s that?" He cranes his neck around to look at me and I bite my lip.
"Well, I was dancing with Simon when I said I'd be right back and never returned. I’m sure he wouldn't have let me leave alone, so I don't want him to feel responsible at all. And it's embarrassing. I'd just rather tell him I was sick and went home."
"Why did you leave, anyway? Did something happen in the club?"
"No, I just felt horrible for the way I spoke to you, and I thought the best way to forget was to drink too much tequila and dance like a stripper. It only made me feel worse. Then Simon was getting very close, and I knew he was going to kiss me so I bolted. I didn't want to lead him on. I didn't want him." I’m suddenly shy when my confession leaves my lips.
His arms tighten around my waist and he whispers in my ear, "Did you want me, Harbour? Were you thinking about me while you were grinding up on Simon?"
He grabs my breasts and I instinctively arch my back. "Yesss . . . "
"Say it, Har; I want to hear you say it." He pinches my nipples and I gasp. I can feel his erection growing on my back.
"I wanted you, Lincoln; only you." I moan as his hand slips between my legs and he rubs my wet core slowly.
"I’m all yours, Harbour, just like you're mine. No one else is allowed to touch you. Understand?" His voice is domineering and thick with arousal.
"Yes, no one but you." I didn't want to ruin the moment by saying “until we end this” so I bite my lip and keep my thoughts to myself.
He takes a deep breath in and waits ten seconds before pushing me forward onto my hands and
knees. I hear the familiar sound of foil and prepare myself to be impaled with his huge cock. I hold my breath, nervous but completely aroused.
"You look so fucking hot like this, Harbour. You have an amazing ass."
I feel his breath before his tongue dives into me from behind. He begins licking my folds and then inserts a finger inside my pussy. I can hear how wet I am already. He groans appreciatively then just as I feel the pressure of my approaching orgasm, he removes his mouth and finger. I let out a disappointed moan and he spanks me. I’ve never been spanked like that before, and it feels incredible.
"Did you like that, baby?" When I moan he spanks me again, this time a little harder. I lean forward with my elbows on the mattress and wiggle my ass. He takes the hint and spanks me a third time, and plunges his rock-hard cock into my pussy. I scream from the pain and pleasure. The only sounds in the room are our unreserved moans and the sound of our bodies joining. Just as my orgasm approaches, he pushes his finger into my ass. I scream out my orgasm, nearly crying from its intensity. Lincoln climaxes straight after me, and collapses over me. His weight feels comforting on my back, although it’s hard to breathe. He pulls me up so I'm sitting on his lap, his cock still inside me. He holds me for a few minutes and eventually releases me, and heads to the bathroom.
He is in there for a while. I begin to worry after twenty minutes and I go up and knock on the door.
"Lincoln, is everything okay?" He jerks the door open and gives me a half-smile.
"Yeah, I should get you home." Oh; not what I was expecting after what we just experienced.
"Of course, I'll just throw on my dress."
"No, wear the clothes I gave you yesterday. They'll be more comfortable. We'll leave in five minutes."
With that, I take the hint and exit his bedroom. Did I miss something? I walk to the guest room, completely naked and suddenly very aware of it. I quickly put the T-shirt and pants on and collect my things. I look through my handbag for my phone and then remember it was smashed on the pavement Friday night. I sigh, realizing I'll have to buy a replacement phone tomorrow.
I make my way to the living room and Lincoln is standing at the windows, looking forlorn and lost in thought.
"I’m ready." I’m proud of myself. I sound strong and confident, the exact opposite of how I’m feeling.
Lincoln doesn't say a word; he just heads towards the door and I follow.
The drive home is filled with awkward silence. I feel like I should ask what’s wrong, but I don't want to push him. He's definitely not the same Lincoln from this morning.
He pulls up in front of my apartment and I don’t wait. I quickly open my door and say goodbye over my shoulder. He doesn't get out of the car.
As I open my door, I hear him speed off. I enter my apartment and I'm overcome with grief. How can I be this upset? We only had the weekend together.
I walk to my bathroom, removing the borrowed clothing. I start the shower and make it as hot as I can stand. I step in and for the next fifteen minutes, I cry. I cry because I'm hurt that he did what I expected, and I cry because I'm angry that I let it happen. I'm such an idiot.
I fell for him.
Chapter Fourteen
Sunday night is one of the worst evenings I've had in New York so far. I have nothing in the house to eat so I decide to go to my local grocery store. I end up buying nothing but wine and chocolate. I refused to cry once I left the shower, and luckily for me, I won’t have severely swollen eyes today because my hot water ran out after twelve minutes.
My head is hurting, really bad. I ate an obscene amount of chocolate and drank a whole bottle of wine. Add to that the fact that I have had no more than three hours sleep. I feel like shit but on the plus side, I've been awake since five a.m. so I got to spend extra time on my hair and makeup. I’ve left my hair down to cover the already fading bruise on my forehead.
I stroll into the lobby of our offices at eight a.m. and walk with my head high in an attempt to look confident. I know as soon as I see Lincoln that will disintegrate, and I’ll want to just find the nearest corner and huddle up in the fetal position. Possibly sucking my thumb, but not crying. Definitely no crying.
Mantra for the day: You are a strong, beautiful woman who needs this job, so harden the fuck up! Okay, not the most positive mantra, but it'll do. I make my way to my desk, hoping that Lincoln has decided on a sick day. My stomach is full of butterflies and my mouth is dry. I need to control my nerves, otherwise Vivian will know something is up and the interrogation will begin.
Just as I sit at my desk, the lift chimes and Lincoln enters our floor through the shiny metal doors. He walks straight to his office without a word. Great. I guess now that our "arrangement" has ended the No Awkwardness At Work rule is out the window. I roll my eyes and log into my computer.
After five minutes of checking emails I'm angry. He can't just treat me like this. I did nothing wrong.
I stand with my iPad in hand, ready for our usual Monday meeting to discuss his week and any appointments he may have. I take a deep breath and confidently knock on his door.
"Come in." He sounds tired; good! I'm bloody tired too, thanks to his bullshit dismissal of me. I hope he's fucking exhausted.
I push the door wide open and step in. I deliberately don't close it.
"Mr. Whitmore we need to discuss your meetings for the week. Your schedule is ready for you to have a look at; I updated it this morning, so if you'll just open it we can run through it." I look up from my iPad when he doesn't respond. His face is showing one emotion: guilt. Good. Fucker.
"You have a ten a.m. today with Mr. Meyers from accounts for the monthly update; you also have a . . ."
"Harbour, I’m sorry . . ."
I give him a confused look. I actually am confused; is he apologizing for last night, or for having to cancel a meeting or s
omething?
"For what, Mr. Whitmore? Would you like me to move your ten a.m?"
"Harbour, you know damn well what I’m apologizing for. I was a fucking asshole last night." Deep breaths; count to ten. Don't lose your shit, Har!
"Can you please keep it down? And there’s no need, I completely understand."
"You do?"
"Yeah, it was fun, but it’s over. It’s okay; I’m fine. Now, back to your 10a.m . . ."
"Are you fucking serious?" He stands and runs his hand through his hair, cursing under his breath. "That’s it? It was fun?"
"Well, I thought it was . . . Look." I sigh, shake my head and look over to the door, which is still wide open, allowing anyone in the office to hear. I lower my voice, "I understand. Really. We were moving very fast, and I can see how that freaked you out. I won’t excuse your behavior though; you were an asshole and I won’t lie, it did upset me to be tossed aside like a used condom, but I won’t let it affect our working relationship. You're my boss; we gave into our physical desires, but it won’t happen again. Now . . ."
"Good morning! Have you started the rundown without me?" Perfect timing.
"We just started, Vivian; actually, did you want to finish it up so I can get started on the spreadsheet for Mr. Whitmore's two p.m?"
Please say yes. I need to leave this room before I suffocate.
"No problem, I'll finish up in here." Vivian takes the seat I vacate.
I leave the office without trying to look like I'm desperate to escape. Once I close the door behind me I take a deep, calming breath and sit at my desk. Time to focus on work.
****
Thirty minutes later, Vivian leaves the office with a frown on her face. I give her a tight smile as she walks over to me. "Mr. Whitmore is in a foul mood this morning. I'm going to run down to the cafe and get him a coffee."
Harbour (Runaway Home #1) Page 10