by Barefoot, LW
His dangerous eyes blaze and somehow he looks triumphant.
“Good girl,” he praises.
His approval makes me want to swallow that fucking word I spit out. I want to take it back and claim I didn’t think he would hear me.
“Thank you for obeying me, Harper. Remember that’s all you have to say and I’ll stop. Do you understand?”
I nod because I understood, but I want to take it back, and never utter the damn word again.
“Thank you for dinner, Evan.”
“Thank you for so much more, Harper.”
He presses a kiss on my forehead and takes my keys from me, after he notices my shaking hands. He pushes the heavy wooden door open and the alarm system starts the countdown through warning beeps as it ticks down.
“I’ll stay until you lock the door. Sweet dreams, gorgeous girl.”
“Good night, Señor Hawthorne.”
He barks out an unexpected laugh as I shut the door to green depths and unspoken promises of more. Shaking with the knowledge that I locked another wolf out, but there’s one inside of me that is dying to be set free and only Evan has the key.
Maybe he should be warned of my claws.
Harper
My schedule is my own to dictate and over the last few weeks, I’ve moved it around to fit in time with Evan. He makes it easy. He makes whatever this thing between us is almost too easy.
Our first date he explicitly pointed out how he didn’t see the point in either of us wasting our time. I took that as a request and declaration for only a physical relationship. I panicked because I assumed it to be immediate and forceful. But we haven’t crossed into that territory. His whispered words alone have seduced me. He might slam me up against a wall, pull my hair, and spell out all the filthy ways he can’t wait to fuck me, but he pulls away when I tremble. When my fear boils over and blocks out all other sensations, he backs away. I don’t even have to utter the word stop for him to understand I’ve reached my limit.
The time we aren’t testing my boundaries, we spend doing normal things. Things friends do and some things I find all too ridiculous to even picture on my own. Evan’s idea of spending time together includes pretty much anything. He met me standing in line for a muffuletta and we argued over the best hot sauce while we waited. He ended up buying our favorites regardless of the collection I keep stocked in my fridge.
He picked me up one morning before my usual run and drove to Audubon Park. Only to prove how much I am missing out on the city I know nothing about and he has willingly taken it upon himself to show me the ropes. Last night we ate chicken wings in a place I normally would never step foot in and I had to admit he was right, they were the best I’ve ever had.
Evan’s such a devious distraction that it’s an effort to lock myself away in my studio and actually get some work done. But I accomplish completing my quota and Jamie helps me crate and ship them off to Chicago.
“Did you book your flight?” I ask him before he leaves for work.
“All set. I even made reservations for some restaurants I want to scope out,” he says as he grabs his coffee and leaves.
My phone vibrates with an incoming email. I open it up from Tom and browse through my schedule for the weekend. Flight confirmation and hotel details, but as soon as the show is over it’s blank. I call Tom to find out why there is no return flight, but his assistant swears it’s booked. She says she’s staring at the receipt and not to worry, she’ll email it over to me. But it never comes. I’ve never had a problem before, so I don’t dwell on it.
There’s another email I have to send to Evan and at this point I shouldn’t be nervous about it. I received his all clear health notice for us to continue our relationship after the first week we met. Fast forward two more weeks and mine stares at me blinking up with the send button ready for me to push. The documents are prepared to find their way to Evan’s email folder. I read through his with flaming cheeks and have to admit that it turns me on. His note in the subject line had me choking. It read, ‘This is a safe precaution. When the time comes, no matter how long I have to wait, I want all of you with nothing standing between us.’
I read through his note again and before I can back out, I hit send and block out memories of the only reason I had to have an STD screening and insist on the birth control shot over other methods of prevention.
I let out a laugh when I immediately receive a response from Evan. Subject line reads, ‘Sending this to me in a real estate investment meeting is highly inappropriate. I can’t stop the images of your impossibly sexy body spread out on the desk in front of me…’
His provoking hasn’t stopped since I boarded the plane for the last stop on my schedule. I blush when the flight attendant asks me to turn off my phone.
Chicago’s winter roars in with its bone chilling wind. Rufus is more than willing to escape into the hotel and I doubt why I brought him in the first place.
That same wind reaches crueler temps when it slaps my face as I get out of the car and enter the building that holds my latest creations and future paychecks.
Tom meets me by the elevator. He speaks with several men in suits. He snaps up and changes the tone and intensity of his conversation when he notices me shivering in from the cold. The hard lines on his face soften as he helps me get my coat off.
“Good evening, beautiful,” he says, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Hi. Is everything okay?” I ask and watch the men scatter as I speak with Tom.
“Everything’s fine, they don’t have an invitation.”
My shows are exclusive to say the least, but people don’t try to enter them. There has never been one person slip in like a party crasher. The shows are a well-kept secret because my contract spells out a multitude of privacy restrictions. It’s somehow made my success soar.
“Okay, that’s random,” I try to laugh it off, but Tom goes stiff and busies himself folding my coat and scarf.
“Let’s go on up, a few collectors have requested your presence.”
I follow him in the elevator and smooth down my shift dress with my palms. I question my sanity for not thinking about wearing tights because it’s freezing outside.
We ride up through the building as I watch Tom. He’s bent over his phone and typing away at the screen.
“Are you sure everything’s okay?” I ask, because Tom’s the epitome of calm. He commands every room he enters and that’s why we’ve been able to work so well together. His self-assurance smoothes over and conceals my awkward insecurity.
He ignores me and doesn’t say anything as the elevator doors slide open. We walk together to the exclusive gallery with strategic lights and hypnotic music.
I quickly get introduced to a couple admiring one of my latest pieces. We discuss technique and composition, my gaze moves to Tom as he steps away from us and answers his phone. I sip champagne and act engrossed in conversations.
I’m confused by a couple who are in love with one of my paintings depicting haunting fog deep in a forest as they want it for a beach house somewhere in the Florida Keys. It makes absolutely no sense to me, but I smile and I’m genuinely thankful for their enthusiasm. I don’t have to fake my gratitude and I immediately warm to them before being pulled away and moving on to the next patron or collector and the evening slips away before I know it.
I look up and notice one of the men Tom claimed to be someone who was trying to enter the gallery without an invitation. He either acquired one, Tom was lying, or he successfully snuck in. There is nothing remarkable about his appearance and to him the art on the walls is nonexistent. I know this from observing the way his attention moves through the room as his gaze scans across it.
Tom interrupts my observation and introduces a man named, Ryan. Goosebumps spread across my skin as we both try to uphold the most meaningless conversation I’ve had all night. I would rather be speaking to the couple about forests and beach houses instead. I almost laugh when Ryan asks if I would jo
in him for a drink after the show. I even bite back the ‘hell no’ from escaping my lips, when I notice a large envelope tucked under his arm.
Ryan stares at me so closely it unnerves me. The guy I noticed earlier studies us and Tom watches as well. There is something about the way Ryan tries to keep me here, keeping me from getting too far away from him. Something Evan would accomplish with easy grace, but with Ryan it’s forced.
I turn to dismiss myself from this stranger Tom insisted on me meeting. He grips my elbow and attempts to spin me around. I panic and freeze when his fingers bite into my arm. I stare at him in disbelief. I try to gather myself as he lowers his hand and lets go of me altogether.
This guy freaks me out. I should walk away but he keeps looking at me as if he has seen me before. He’s past any and all pretenses of acting otherwise.
“Have we met before?” I ask.
I want to know and now I’m even more curious why he insisted on meeting me. I catch the slight movement he makes before he answers me. A flick of his eyes so small I would have missed it had I not been looking for it.
“Not that I know. I definitely would have remembered you,” he says.
His eyes make a slow, unconvincing caress as they take in my every detail.
“Why did you insist on meeting me?” I ask.
“I have a thing for redheads.”
Ryan’s statement is a flat out lie. My auburn hair is about as natural as his feigned interest in me. I pay too much money to keep my natural blond from making an appearance, right down to my eyebrows and lashes. But Ryan stares at me as if trying to see something that’s not there, something beyond the surface.
“No really, why the hell did you insist on meeting me?”
“Harper, you have to trust me,” he lies again.
I’m pretty sure he’s lost his mind. I don’t even fully trust Jamie and he’s the only thing close to family I have. His lust ruined that all-powerful trust. I don’t trust myself with Evan. Trust has become somewhat of a mystery to me.
A memory attempts to push through, but for some reason I can’t bring it up to focus on it. The odd familiarity I feel towards Ryan is what has my stomach in knots and the rest of my body in flight mode.
“I have something you need to see, Harper.”
Did he really think I didn’t notice him trip on my new name? He’s not who he says he is. Just wanting to take me out for a drink, my ass. I finally listen to my instincts to run and get out of here.
I move away from him. Tom swears over the music, weaving through people and coming after me.
“Dammit, Ryan stop her,” Tom yells.
I hear footsteps rush up from behind me, not sure if it’s the thumping beat of music, but I don’t look back. I walk as fast as I can in my tall heels, leaving my coat and scarf behind and manage to snag my purse. I move to the elevators as the doors slide open, revealing the last person I expected to see here.
Evan extends his hand and it wraps around my wrist. I slam into him when he pulls me to him. He holds me tight and wraps me in his coat, as the doors close and we descend.
My pulse races so fast I feel as if it reaches the bottom floor before we do, along with my stomach.
Harper
Silence surrounds us. I stand in the protection of Evan’s arms and try to make sense of what just happened. My mind is on replay and I flesh out the details of what I’ve missed. I don’t register how we move from the elevator to the waiting car. The driver shuts us in, enclosing us in the back seat.
Evan turns and appraises me, questioning my mood. His heated stare has my heart pumping harder.
“Why were you leaving, Harper?”
How do I tell him the one secure area of my life just got tilted on its axis and I have no idea why?
“Why are you here?” I ask.
“The restaurant needed Jamie and he missed his flight. He knew I had business to take care of and mentioned me swinging by your exhibit to check in on you and offer his apology. I was looking forward to seeing your work, but I’ll settle for having you to myself.”
His statement sounds as honest as Ryan was with me minutes ago. But it could be me overreacting. I overthink everything. I don’t think I even know what comfortable means, let alone what it feels like.
Evan takes my freezing hands and warms them in his much larger ones.
“I’m sorry I stole your coat. You must be freezing,” I say as his jaw clenches.
“I gave it to you. What the hell were you thinking dressing like this?” he asks.
He studies me swimming in his coat and his gaze lands on my legs, moving his hands from mine to run down my shaking limbs. He lets out a long drawn out breath as his hands heat me up, traveling down to my ankles and kneading into my bare calves. Silent indecision is written all over him.
One hand lifts to my face and his thumb wipes off my lipgloss. That one move has heat rushing to my core as his thumb presses to my lips in teasing anticipation.
He replaces his thumb with his lips, closing the space between us. My face instantly warms with the slide of his full bottom lip across mine.
Our tongues push and pull alongside each other. He tugs his coat down and away from my shoulder, while keeping the rest of my body tucked inside it.
He pulls back from me just enough to whisper, “I’m going to warm you up.”
Large palms move up from my knees and caress higher up my legs. His attention is only on my bare legs, but it heats me all over. I shiver when his fingers tickle the sensitive skin on my inner thighs. His middle finger hooks under my thong and strokes my slit. I think he’s going to push into me, but he brings his finger up to his lips and licks my taste off. His eyes never leave mine as I watch the sexiest thing I have ever seen take place.
His hand moves back to the scrap of lace that separates us and forcefully rips the material to get to me. He moans as he pushes his skillful finger into my heat.
“You feel better than I ever imagined,” he mutters, as I moan against his intrusion.
I don’t panic, I revel in his attention. He rubs my clit in time with inserting a second finger.
“Shh, Harper, let me in.”
The pressure’s intense, but not at all unpleasant. He’s gentle finger fucking me, stretching me, his kiss is not. It’s demanding and forceful, his huge frame pushes me back against the leather seat. My hips start to move on their own accord, seeking my first willing orgasm. I thought it such a foreign, unachievable thing. Believing my clit an overrated or all around broken part of me. Because I’ve had too much attention on it and it’s never felt like this before.
Evan’s tongue trails alongside my neck and just when the waves of pleasure crash over me, he bites down hard on top of my shoulder.
I scream as the pain from his bite causes my inner muscles to squeeze harder, prolonging the bliss. Spasming on his adept fingers, pulsing in release. His lips return to mine and then he removes his fingers from me, slowly pulling them out of me in a reverent caress. He cleans them with his tongue, licking his long fingers while gaging my reaction. My heart doesn’t slow its attack against my ribs. That was the best damn warmup of my life.
He adjusts my dress and stuffs what is left of my underwear in his pocket.
The car pulls up next to my hotel and I realize the driver heard everything. I blush even more profusely when Evan forces me to look at him. His eyes are dancing with dangerous lust and it’s alarming to me.
“Harper, you shouldn’t feel ashamed. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on and even more stunning when you finally let go.”
He kisses me, then stands and exits the car. He holds his hand out for me to take as he escorts me in the lobby.
I push the button in the elevator to the floor I’m staying on. I hand over the room key when he requests it. We exit the elevator and I tell him my room number. With each shaky step I take, I grow more confident that I’m making the right decision. We’ve already crossed the line and there’s no
going back. The tempting fall over the ledge is the escape I need and only Evan can provide it.
I walk in the suite while he holds the door open. He watches me and closes the door behind him. I set my clutch down on the foyer table and check my reflection in the large floor to ceiling mirror. I pull his coat off my shoulders, laying it next to my purse, wishing I could also place my insecurities down with the other items.
The shift dress I have on buttons down the back and I watch as Evan takes in this little detail.
“Tell me you want this, Harper. Say yes,” he pleads with me as our eyes meet in the mirror, my back turned to him.
I want him, plain and simple, but I’m trying to think of how I can let him have me and not see my entire body. Now that he destroyed my panties, I couldn’t use them to hide my scars, or at least the most important one. I thought he would wait until we made it to the bedroom before making his move.
I’ve played scenarios and examples in my mind of how I could get around the inevitable. I even purchased lingerie that would effectively perform the necessary concealment of my wounds. I thought I could accomplish the task, until I remind myself that nothing with this man is easy or goes as planned. All the hang-ups I’ve come up with doesn’t change the fact I still want to take this next step with Evan.
“Yes,” I answer him.
The look on his face alone is enough motivation to join in with whatever he has in mind.
“Do you remember what to say if it’s too much?”
“Stop,” I utter the curse word.
“I’m only backing off if you say that fucking word,” he hisses.
I nod my head and he walks up behind me and stretches, enclosing me. His body forces mine to turn fully toward the mirror and console table. His muscular arms span above me, trapping me in against the table. My eyes meet his through the mirror. The hunger in them matches mine, as he rubs his huge erection against my backside.