My eyes popped open. Tentatively, his other hand joined the first and he let loose a soft exhale, caressing down my back from the base of my neck to the slope of my ass. “Like silk.” He followed the length of my spine back up again, murmuring softly. “Relax, Harper. Breathe. I just want to touch you.”
Relax? Relax? Impossible. Before I could force myself to breathe, as instructed, both his hands were on my ass, squeezing, stroking. The bed dipped, springs squeaking, and I felt the plump push of his lips as he kissed me there. One side, then the other, and back again.
His tongue darted out to taste and I yelped.
Then blushed because I yelped. You’re such an idiot, Evans. Can’t even be cool while the hottest guy in the world is kissing your ass.
He laughed softly. “No need for theatrics, Columbus. I won’t hurt you.”
Gently, he flipped me onto back. I couldn’t begin to explain how erotic it was being naked while he was still clothed. He was mouthwateringly handsome. Sexier than any man I’d ever seen in my whole life. How on Earth did a man like this set eyes on me and think: her? Forget I was leaving for college in a couple of months. This man looked at me—me, Harper Evans, textbook shy-girl-nerd-bookworm and he saw…something. Something more. Someone worth exploring.
With one knee braced between my legs, he sat back on his heels and loosened his tie, his eyes never leaving mine.
This was going to happen.
This was really going to happen. No turning back. No getting around the inevitable.
His agile fingers began to unfasten the buttons of his shirt and I sat up, suddenly needing to feel useful. He accommodated me by lifting his elbows and I tugged his shirttails from his waistband.
At the same time, he leaned forward and pushed his thigh between my legs.
Oh, sweet lord—that—
That feels—
A breathy, high-pitched moan escaped my throat, followed by a wash of mortification that set my face on fire. He’d have a wet spot on his pants because of me. Because I couldn’t control—
He applied pressure and my breath hitched, teeth snagged and bit my lower lip. My eyes rolled back in my head and I braced my palms to the bed.
“You like that,” he said rather than asked.
“Mmm.” The closest thing to a word I could muster.
“Good. Let’s find out what else you like.”
My body remembered the weight of him, the perfection of his hard lines forming to my softer ones. He bore down on me fast, pushing me to the white down comforter. His head lowered. Mouth closed over my left nipple and my eyelashes fluttered like hummingbird wings. A bolt of hot pleasure shot between my legs and I clenched around him, ground against his thigh like a preteen making out on the couch.
I couldn’t believe this was happening.
He abandoned the left breast for the right and my lungs stopped working. Blearily, I was aware of the intoxicating sensation of warm skin tickling my belly. He’d taken off his shirt. How had I missed that? What was I doing? Was I so far over the edge of desire I’d lost short-term memory?
Lawson’s hand lifted and he began to massage the breast his mouth had just left. Gentle, rolling tugs of my nipple that sent electric jolts straight to the very core of my body. I struggled against him. Restless. Eager. Wanting more. Wanting him now, for the love of babies, puppies and Milk Duds, what did a girl have to do to—
His fingers left their place of torture, swept around the front of my body, dipped between our bodies. Low, lower and lower still. He sought and found the engorged bud, the lone source of the ache ravaging my entire body. And began circling with expert pressure.
One of my hands gripped his forearm. The other dug greedily into his hair. Sensations cascaded over me, a waterfall of push and pull that drove me higher and higher toward that glorious summit I wanted so badly.
The abrasion of his five o’clock shadow against my breast.
His lips, tongue and teeth teasing my nipple.
His fingers, taking every involuntary arch of my hips in stride, slipping in and out through drenched folds, his thumb rolling and gliding over and over and over.
Never, not once since I learned how to pleasure myself at fourteen, had I felt anything close to this. To Lawson worshipping my body as if this was all he was ever meant to do. As if we, each of us, were made for the sole pleasure of the other. When he murmured beneath his breath and shifted his body off mine, I was too weak to argue. My senses blurred together: the scent of cologne mingled with sweat, the taste of him on my tongue, the rustle of a wrapper, the raggedness of his breath, a rush of air across my thighs.
More, I tried to say aloud but couldn’t find the lung capacity. Please more. I’m nearly there. You can’t give me all that, just to take it away.
He slid inside me, and a groan of ecstasy wrenched from my chest.
He stilled, waiting, I could only guess, for me to beg him: Stop, wait, no I can’t do this, but there was no way I would’ve taken this back. Not then, not ever. With every breath, I inhaled him, felt him, and I couldn’t fathom wanting to be anywhere else, with anyone else.
Our bodies were melded together, his chest smashing my breasts. His fingers dawdled in my hair. We were joined. Deeply. Our hips were touching, and his face hovered above mine, our breaths colliding like two people who had just come up for air after minutes of being underwater.
He felt incredible, indescribable.
Complete.
It was too much to wrap my brain around at once.
“Are you all right?” he whispered.
I nodded.
“I’m not hurting you?”
I shook my head. “Just trying to figure out when you took off your pants and put on a condom.”
He laughed. Dipped his head. Kissed my neck. “You feel so good. So warm and tight.”
“Um. Thanks?”
Another airy chuckle. “I take it you’ve never been told that before.”
“No.”
“Never?”
I chewed my lip.
And told him the truth. “There was never another time to.”
He pulled back. His eyes searched mine. “Harper.”
My heart was beating so fast. “Yes?”
“This isn’t…please tell me I’m not…” He blinked and, I don’t know why, but my eyes welled. “Harper?”
“Are you disappointed?”
“What? No. No, of course not.” He kissed my forehead, inhaled deeply against my skin. “You could never be a disappointment to me, baby. I just wish you would’ve told me. I would’ve gone slower, tried to be gentler or…something.”
“You’re perfect, Lawson.” I framed his face in my hands, made him look at me. “Please don’t stop.”
I didn’t have to tell him twice.
He began to move. Slowly. Rubbing and stoking the sensitive part of me inflamed with need. My legs clutched instinctively around his hips as he set a pace as old as time. As all the senses he awakened earlier writhed back to life.
His hand gripped my thigh, and he hiked my leg high and tight against his waist.
He thrust slow. Hard. Deep. I moved with him, mimicking his rhythm. The scent of him, of us, was everywhere: earth, leather and the Chanel perfume the makeup artist had spritzed on my wrists as a final touch. And sweat—our sweat, mingled together, skin to skin.
That heady fragrance would forever be imbedded in my memory.
His mouth opened on my neck, suckling, and I arched against him, meeting him stroke for stroke. He held me fast, hard. One hand gripped my shoulder from behind, the other adhered to my thigh. It was heart-wrenching. Soul-crushing. Even in the dark of the hotel suite, light flashed behind my eyes like a spray of falling stars. My legs shook and clenched around his body. Mouth fell open in a silent cry. Oh—yes, finally, God—oh, oh ohhh—
He pumped into me again. And again. Deeper than I thought possible. Once, twice, and he cried out. A marvelous, feral growl of completion. His blunt fingernails d
ug into my ass, almost painfully, certain to leave a bruise, but I didn’t care.
The world paused. Stillness moved over the room, quiet as a low, swirling mist. All that remained was us. Cemented together. Struggling for lung capacity. Pleasure exploding like fireworks over Downtown Columbus on the Fourth of July.
The rhythmic pulse of the orgasm thumped on and on and on.
He murmured in the hollow of my neck, his breath hot and moist.
“You know,” I breathed, “that southern accent of yours is pretty sexy.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmm.”
He shifted. Raised his head. A single drop of sweat fell from his temple, rolled down my cheek. “Well, darlin’, I can just about southern-a-fy anything you can think of.”
“Is that so?”
He used his thumb to smooth the furrows etched in my brow. “Try me.”
“Hmm. French fries.”
“French fries?” The faintest smile ticked one corner of his mouth, more sensual than I could readily describe. Lowering his head, he brushed a kiss to the outer corner of my eye. “Would you like fries with that, darlin’?”
I laughed, my stomach bouncing against his. Our sweaty skin clung like magnets and fleetingly, I thought that, too, was something I wouldn’t soon forget. The feel of our bodies fused together as one, his chest pressed against mine.
He slid his nose down the bridge of mine, then kissed me, deep and slow. Outside, rain pattered lightly against the windows. My fingers traced the length of his spine, down to the groove of his bottom. I drew a pattern.
He smiled against my lips. “Amen.”
“Amen,” I whispered, confirming the letters I’d sketched on his skin.
A deep sigh stirred in his chest. Contentment, maybe. But no. Eagerness. Need. We were still connected, body to body, and already he was hardening inside me. I wondered how many times we could possibly do this before we both gave out or died of dehydration.
“I should’ve warned you.” His words feathered near my ear.
“Warned me?”
“Yes.”
“Of what?”
He pushed his lips against the pulse in my neck. “That I’ve wanted you since the moment I first saw you.”
Chills surfaced all over my body. “Really?”
“Really.”
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. “And why would you need to warn me about that?”
He didn’t respond.
He didn’t have to.
The answer was clear as he begun to thrust in and out, lazily now, as if we had all the time in the world.
chapter eighteen
I lost count of how many times I came. Or how many times I’d made him come. He’d discarded what I imagined was a whole box of used condoms in the bedside trashcan. Good thing we’d both thought to bring them. You know, just in case.
Hours had gone by without concept of what hour it was, exactly. He’d thrown a pillow on top of the clock radio. The curtains were drawn. Our phones were on silent. No one had come to the door. I wasn’t sure when exhaustion had pulled us both into sleep.
I woke with heaviness in my body, soreness between my legs. The vestiges of a hangover lingered, but neither of us had drank a drop of liquor. I felt satiated, happy. I hadn’t bled, a fact for which I was grateful, though I was certain Lawson wouldn’t have been put off by it, if I had. He’d been wonderful. Starving and rough one moment, tender the next. As each orgasm came and waned, I wanted more. More of him. More of us.
I pushed myself up. Brushed the hair out of my face. He’d removed my ponytail elastic, tossed it across the room like an Olympic disc. We’d laughed at that. Then kissed for minutes before he was inside me again.
Beside me, Lawson lay sleeping on his stomach. Arms tucked under a pillow. What little light filtered into the room highlighted his back muscles, the smooth skin over his shoulders, the natural blond in his hair. Even in heavy slumber, he was beautiful. A great choice for my first, I thought, and smiled, because, damn, I didn’t think losing my virginity would be this perfect. Most girls’ stories could’ve sprung from a horror film. It wasn’t any wonder I’d held out for the right moment.
Lawson was more than right.
He was the one.
In those seconds, marked by the steady beat of my heart, I realized, with sound vibrato, that I loved this man.
I loved him.
I clutched the sheets to my chest, braced for the onslaught of chastisement that would hit in rapid succession once my brain told my fear what I’d thought. But the words of warning never came. Firm reminders that I’d landed a killer scholarship, that I was leaving the country soon. Too soon. That my father wasn’t even here, nor had I heard from him except for a few short texts. That I didn’t have time to nurture a relationship, if this was a relationship, which I desperately wanted it to be.
God, how I wanted it to be.
Naked, I eased out of bed and padded to the bathroom. Relieved myself. Checked the mirror and gasped. My lipstick, or what had been my lipstick, was smeared up the side of one cheek. Mascara remnants darkened the skin underneath my eyes. I looked like a toddler had attempted to replicate a Picasso on my face. No way could I have wiped off the remnants, started with a clean slate and recreated what a team of professionals had done the night before. I chose the clean slate, washed my face with the soap the spa had given me. Then took another gander.
A marginal improvement. But then there was the hickey below my ear. And the one above my collarbone. Another marked the upper slope of my left breast. I was pretty sure fancy spa soap wouldn’t remove any of those.
I grabbed one of the white robes provided by the hotel and decided to face the reality of my phone.
10:03 a.m. Which meant it was already past noon in Nashville. I hadn’t slept this late since…
Never.
I’d never slept this late. Dad had brought me up from birth to be an early riser. Lose an hour in the morning, he’d say, and you’ll be looking for it all day.
But clocks lost importance when I was with Lawson.
Savana had texted several times, but I’d expected no less. She might’ve been more excited about Vegas than I was. Might’ve. Smiling, I texted her back: Everything’s great. He did wonderful. Really killed it. Not sure when we’ll be back, but I’ll be in touch.
Bubbles instantly appeared.
I’d missed two phone calls. Both from a Columbus area code. I didn’t recognize the number. Then again, it was an election year. Unrecognizable numbers weren’t exactly an enigma.
Sighing, I texted Dad. Need to talk. Please call ASAP. Everything’s okay. Love you.
Savana’s text finally came through. Sister, you know Chris and I watched and yaaasss he was AMAZING OH MY GOSH! It’s all anybody can talk about around here this morning—wait until y’all see the news and the papers. You looked gorgeous in that dress, by the way!!! Chris has been eyeing that thing for weeks, but even she said it looked much better on you! <3
Thank you. I clicked send and my eyes landed on Lawson. Still here. Still asleep
Or so I’d thought.
His heavy-lidded gaze found me. A lopsided grin played on his lips. “What are you doin’? Come back to bed, baby.”
“Just doing the adult thing and checking my phone.” But I set it down and joined him on the bed. “Hi,” I whispered, running my fingers through his hair. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
He rubbed his eyes. “Everything okay?”
“Yep. Savana texted, of course, and I told her we were fine and that we’d let her know when we were back in Nashville.”
“Did she see the performance?”
“Yep. Said she loved it. Chris, too.”
“Good.”
“Were you worried?”
“I wrote and performed new material.” Even in the dimly lit room, the warmth in his blue eyes made me tremble with desire. “I’m always a little worried what people will think, how they’ll react, if they’ll hate it so
bad the entire world issues a cease and desist on my music.”
“Sounds terrible.”
He gave me a pitiful expression. “It really is.”
“Just an underappreciated, brilliant boy. Burdened by talent he never asked for.”
“I know, right?” Charming to the bone, regardless he was only half-awake. He jutted his chin at my robe, quirked an eyebrow. “What’s this?”
I looked down at the fluffy white robe, then at him. “What?”
“You are in way too many clothes, woman.”
Warmth swept up my spine. “Is that so?”
He rose to an elbow, tugged at the robe’s terrycloth belt. The material gaped open. Electricity coursed through my veins. There were no mysteries left between us, no reason for discomfort. Head to toe, he’d seen all of me, and he wasted no time in pushing the robe off my shoulders.
It fell to my elbows, bared my breasts.
“Much better.”
“You know I can’t just be naked all the time.”
“Don’t see why not.” He leaned forward, swept his tongue over a peaked nipple. Kissed it. “These are much too pretty to hide.”
“Ah ha. So, I should just walk around topless all the time. For anyone and everyone to see.”
His eyes lifted. “I didn’t say that. Just saying you should feel free to walk around as naked as you like when we get back home. In the house, of course. When it’s just you and me.”
When it’s just you and me.
But it wasn’t just me and him, was it? Even if I wasn’t going away, which I was, but if—if I wasn’t, we could never be a normal couple. There would always be people who wanted a piece of him. Always a show to get to, a photo shoot, an interview, a tour bus that took him away for months at a time. Playing house with him? Sure, it was fun. A thrilling fantasy I never would’ve dreamed of for myself. But our time together was fleeting.
His hand cradled my face, his thumb passing over my lower lip. “You’re so beautiful, Harper. These lips, I can’t stop staring at them.”
I pressed those lips as heat crept up my neck. “They’re a little swollen.”
“They’re always swollen. That’s what I love about them.” He sat up, took my face in both his hands. Pushed his forehead to mine, our noses brushing. “Thank you.”
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