by Cindy Miles
“My little sister never woke up,” he confessed. “She was in a state nursing home at first.” He sighed. “They were overbooked, understaffed for the most part, and her care was—I hated going to that place. Hated knowing she was in there.” His gaze cleared now, and it was fathomless and fiery and full of shadows. “I quit school during my senior year and ran away from yet another foster home when I got a job running numbers and made a few big checks. The opportunities were endless and I was good at it.” He looked away now, and I knew he wondered if I judged him. “I spent every dime I had on a run-down little apartment for myself, and the monthly fee for my sister’s care in a decent, private facility up the coast. Out of the city. Harbor Breeze. She gets good care there, and is treated with respect. Even though they say she can’t see it, her room really does overlook the harbor. I think she can see it. And I think she hears me when I talk to her. And I’ve been paying for my little sister that way ever since I was eighteen years old.”
My insides sank like a weight had been dropped down my mouth.
His little sister was alive but beaten into a vegetative state by her own father. And Kane had been paying for her care ever since. Words wouldn’t come; I could barely swallow my own saliva.
Kane’s knuckle lifted my chin, and our eyes held. Tears rolled from mine. His were deep, wet, glassy. “And so you see, Harper, that’s why I run numbers. It’s why I can’t stop. Ever. Not for a second.” His mouth lifted, somber, sweet. “My little sister is my heart. And she deserves only the best.”
When Kane’s voice cracked again, I fell against his chest, slid my arms gently around him but didn’t squeeze, and nestled into his lap. He rested his chin on top of my head, silent, cautious. “I’ve only told you,” he admitted. “Just you.”
I looked up, into his eyes, those eyes that spoke every emotion. “You’re safe with me,” I said softly, and I ran my fingers through his tousled hair. “You can trust me.”
In his eyes I saw gratitude. Desire. And something else I was unfamiliar with. “I can, yeah?” he asked. His thumb found my bottom lip.
“Yes,” I answered, and the sensation of his roughened thumb against the sensitive skin of my lip sent tingles across my spine.
He pulled me to him, his mouth against my ear. “Thank you,” he whispered. Then he kissed me there, and my hands sought his face, marveling in the scratchy feel of his unshaven jaw against my fingers. It was all so new. So many emotions. Sensations.
I shifted my weight and leaned into him, and he grunted slightly. I jerked back, my eyes drawn to his ribs. “I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I—”
His mouth closed over mine, silencing me for several seconds as he tasted, suckled, and he smiled against my mouth. “I’m fine,” he whispered. “Just a little sore.” Sliding his hands along my hip, the curve of my backside, he slid them beneath my sweater, my tank, until he found my skin. My breath caught, and he stopped.
“No,” I said, and brushed my mouth against his. “I don’t want you to stop, Kane.” He looked at me, his eyes liquid pools, and they asked me silently if I was sure. “You trust me,” I said quietly, “and I trust you. I’ve never wanted to share this part of me with anyone.” His eyes regarded me, made my insides heat. I didn’t want to tell him it was forbidden. A sin, in my overbearing grandmother’s eyes. Not now. “I want it to be you, Kane McCarthy.”
Without closing his eyes, he settled his mouth gently against mine, and he swept his tongue along the seam of my mouth, and I gasped. “Are you sure?”
I kissed him back, mimicking his movement. I drew back. “More sure than I’ve ever been.”
“I didn’t bring you here to seduce you,” he said quietly.
“But you did,” I answered, then gave a timid smile. “I’m pretty sure I am one hundred percent thoroughly seduced.”
His smile came easy then, and he rose from the sofa with a slight grunt, pulling me with him. Bending down, he grabbed the mason jar candle with its alluring scent curling from its mouth, laced his fingers with mine, and led me across the studio to a small hallway. In the room where he’d been taken after the attack, he set the candle down on the nightstand, pulled me inside and closed the door.
Why wasn’t I freaking out? Why weren’t the deluge of terrifying memories, of consequences washing over me? Was it because Kane was right? He and I together were right? That all along what I needed was to find trust in just one single person?
As his room closed in on me, I allowed Kane to replace the terror.
Christ, what was I doing? Part of me knew I should stop. Just get up and walk out the door. Go outside in the forty-degree weather and cool the fuck off.
Harper’s hand reached toward mine, slid her delicate fingers through my big ones, and her large eyes looked like pools of seawater as she stared at me. She just stood there, inching closer, leaning in. The flowery smell of her shampoo drifted up as she tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’ve never wanted anyone to touch me before,” she said in that quiet, breakable voice. “I want you to.”
I was gone then; just four words, and I was fuckin’ gone. I gathered her face in my hands and inspected every feature, every curve, and then my mouth was on hers, so hungry, so starved like I hadn’t eaten in weeks. Her lips were full, soft, pliable, inexperienced yet moved exactly where mine did, traced my path, tasted where I tasted. Her hands rested lightly against my chest, slid down to my stomach, and I was already so far gone, just from that brave touch, that I had to check myself. I pulled back, and she looked at me, and her mouth curved into the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen on her face. This smile wasn’t broken. It was real. And it was mine.
“I like the way you kiss me,” she admitted. And even in the candlelight of the room, I could see her cheeks redden. Her eyes cast downward, then back up. Shy. Brave. And in her eyes, desire.
I lowered my head again, moved my lips over hers, and moved my hands over her collarbone, down her shirt where I unsnapped it, pushed it off her shoulders and dropped it to the floor. I touched her as easily as I could; she seemed so delicate, small, and she then mimicked me, reaching for the buttons on my shirt until they’d all been undone. Just like me.
She pushed my shirt open, and her eyes widened when she saw the ugly black and blue across my ribs, and her fingers were there, tracing the marks, then the ridges of my abs. She looked up at me, slid her hands around my neck, and pulled my mouth back to hers.
I picked her up in my arms, and it hurt, but I didn’t care. She didn’t weigh hardly anything, but my ribs were still broken. With her wide eyes on mine, I laid her down on my bed, but her arms didn’t leave my neck. Her mouth didn’t leave my mouth. We shared the same air, the same matter, same space. We might as well have been one.
We lay beside each other, and her kissing grew as hungry as mine, and when I slid my hand along her hip, her thigh, feeling every curve through the soft jeans that hugged her skin, she moved closer, groaned. My hands moved under the thin tank she wore, her skin soft, untouched, and I hesitated. I leaned back, searching her eyes in the soft light, searching for answers without asking for them. Searching for acceptance. Consent.
She sat up then, pulled the tank over her head, dropped it to the floor. And she reached for my shirt, and I let her pull it off my shoulders. Then she reached for me again, and I went.
Our mouths fit, no matter which way I moved, like locking pieces of a puzzle, and when her fingers moved over my back—skimming that offending memory scarred there, kissed my chin, my jaw, and my throat—it felt healing. It felt fucking perfect. Like I’d waited my whole life to find her, just to trust with the darkest parts of me. She’d seen that darkness, and had accepted. I devoured her. It still wasn’t enough.
My hands moved to her jeans, the snaps, and her hip bones, her taut stomach, the rise of her ribs just before her breasts curved made my mouth go dry. I didn’t have to ask her anything; she lifted her hips, and I pulled the jeans off and tossed them to the floor. With one snap I released the
lacey bra she wore, and she lay there, trusting me, her eyes wide and her hair spilling around her like an angel. I literally lost my breath. I didn’t say anything; I reached for her hand, pressed it against my heart, and her eyes filled with liquid wonder when she felt how hard my heart raced and pounded against my chest. I stood, kicked my jeans off, my boxers, and she reached for me once more and I went once more.
With her soft body beneath mine, we melded together, like two pieces of metal that had been brought to liquid then merged to form one solid piece. I didn’t mind that she touched my scars. It didn’t shame me that she saw. As I tasted her, kissed her neck, that hollow dip in her throat, and those sweet, full lips, my hands found the rest of her just as perfect, just as pliable, just as fitting to mine. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
Finding my wallet on the night stand, I flipped it open, reached for the condom there, tore it open, and slid it on. Grasping the delicate edges of her panties, I pulled them over her hips, down her long slender legs, and dropped them onto the floor. I moved over her slowly, hesitantly yet trying to reign in my own out-of-control hunger, kissing her, urging her thighs open with my knee, and I filled her then, capturing her gasp and swallowing it, then lying as still as I could until she grew used to me. To us. I nearly lost my mind, waiting. Then I slid my mouth along her bottom lip, pulled it into mine, and she kissed me back. Her legs went instinctively around my waist, and we moved together then, like one, and I was gone again, lost again. I saw her eyes widen, squeeze shut, and the moan of pleasure escape her beautiful throat. I exploded then, wave after wave nearly taking my breath until I collapsed beside her. We were out of breath, and I pulled her to me, her entire body tucked against mine, and I kissed her damp forehead. We were quiet as our hearts slowed, our bodies quieted, and our breathing eased.
I looked at her then; so soft in the candlelight. Her mouth swollen from kissing, and her eyes damp. “I can’t stop staring at you,” she said in that soft voice, and her fingers dragged over the ridges of my stomach. “With my eyes or my hands.”
If a girl could make a guy’s heart melt, she just did. I pushed her hair over her shoulder. “So there you are,” I murmured.
She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
I traced her lips with my thumb. “I’ve been looking for you my whole life.”
Then her face eased into the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen, and she pulled my head to her chest, and I drifted off into the most settling sleep I’d ever had, with Harper’s arms around me, her fingertips trailing over my skin, through my hair. Her lips grazing my temple. Healing me.
When I woke, the early hours of daylight, hazy and ethereal, moved through the room. I shifted, still entwined with Harper’s legs and arms, and as I looked up, her wide eyes were watching me, still filled with wonder.
“I told you I can’t stop staring,” she grinned, and then her brows pinched together. “I’m sore.”
I gave her a slow smile. “That’s normal.”
“You’re…so big.”
I quirked my brow. “That’s what all the girls say?”
She whopped me with a pillow. “I’m serious!” Then her eyes looked down. Saw my arousal. “Whoa,” she gasped.
I couldn’t help but laugh. Her lush body called to me, but I knew she was too sore. I would hurt her. “Let’s go make some pancakes.”
Her eyes softened. “Okay.”
I thought about jumping into a cold shower first, but I passed that idea up and gave her one of my shirts to wear. It nearly hung to her knees. And she looked adorable. She sat on the counter while I made pancakes from a box mix, and then we ate together on the sofa. It felt so…normal. So right with her. As if all the shit and hell I’d endured as a kid had led to this moment. To this girl. To the one who would make everything okay.
And the weekend passed too fast. I couldn’t keep my eyes, my hands off of her. I almost felt like a virgin myself. Everything with Harper was different than it had been with anyone, ever before. Unique. Special. Totally Harper. She filled a void I’d always know I had. The only thing is, I never thought it’d be filled. I’d never let anyone in, so close they could see the raw me. It’d been so easy to let Harper in. So fuckin’ easy. And now that she was there? I didn’t want her to ever leave. I’d only loved two people my whole life: Katy and Brax. Now, for the first time, I felt like there was room for more. It made me consider things. Consider my future. To have Harper in my life meant no more numbers. How could I fuckin’ pull that off?
It was Sunday afternoon when Brax and Olivia made it back. We walked outside to greet them.
Olivia, wearing a backpack, climbed off Brax’s bike and started unstrapping her helmet. Brax followed. “Bro, how’s it goin’?” he asked. “Half-pint?”
I pulled Harper close against me. “Perfect,” I answered.
Olivia smiled. “I’ve been feeling Brax’s stomach growl against my hand for miles,” she said, and looked at Harper. “We…were going to go for pizza. Want to join us?”
I felt Harper tense beside me; but then I also felt her breath leave her in a long exhale. A breath no one saw; only I felt.
“That…would be great, Olivia,” Harper said slowly. Hesitantly. “Thank you.”
Olivia flashed a quick smile to me. I couldn’t stop the wide, stupid grin from spreading across my face. And Olivia beamed as though she’d just made a great discovery. A final break through. Harper looked up at me and her eyes shined.
Harper had agreed to go and, for some reason, I thought that was a major milestone. I couldn’t quite figure out why she was so resistant to having a good time, even if it was just going out with friends for dinner. The small amount of food she consumed bothered me. Over the weekend I’d actually hear or feel her stomach growl with hunger. But I’d ask her to eat and she’d say she wasn’t hungry. For anything, but me. That had made me smile, but it also concerned me. I knew she trusted me, but there was a room full of Harper that she hadn’t allowed me entrance into. Hopefully, one day, she would.
But for now, she’d accepted Olivia’s invite, and she’d even agreed to see me in public. Another milestone. I’d broken through at least the outer wall she had carefully constructed around herself, and all was good. I later waited in the common room of the Delta House while she ran upstairs to change.
And that’s when I overheard something I wished I’d not have.
“I still think Harper was wrong,” the girl said. She and two others stood by the hearth. I stood by the front door. They hadn’t seen me and even if they had, they probably didn’t know I was waiting on Harper. “The Dare was her idea. She wanted to get back at the Kappas. And that loser brother of Brax Jenkins’ was specifically her choice from the get-go. Her test subject.” She formed air quotes. “Her big reformation project.”
My breath froze in my lungs. Maybe I was hearing them wrong?
“I heard her tell Murphy that he was a lost cause,” another said. “That there was no reforming him and that she didn’t want to get in trouble with the law. I bet that’s why she called off the Dare. She just didn’t want to lose.”
“Probably,” the other said. “Kind of lame if you ask me. She’s our president. We were supposed to be getting vengeance for Olivia and Macie.”
I’d heard all I needed to hear.
I’d been part of a fucking sorority prank?
I didn’t look back. Didn’t look at the girls.
I just walked out the door.
When I stepped off the staircase, I saw Kane’s back just as he was leaving out of the front door.
Why was he leaving?
“Hey, Harper,” a voice called. It was Anna.
“Hi,” I answered, and headed out the door. Kane was halfway to his truck. “Kane!” I called. He didn’t stop, and I hurried faster. “Kane, wait!”
He stopped, but kept his back to me. Even when I reached him, he didn’t turn around. His broad shoulders sagged, and he was looking down. Brax and Olivia
stood by Brax’s bike, watching silently from afar. Confusion on both their faces.
Then Kane turned and faced me. And I saw pain in those coffee eyes.
“A dare, Harper? That’s what I was a part of? An experiment?”
Fear froze my words. He wasn’t shouting. Not with his voice. But his eyes screamed at me. “No—oh, no, Kane. How…did you find out?”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “So it’s true?” His voice was calm, but anger simmered just beneath the surface. Anger and hurt. Both I sensed like they were mine.
I nodded. “Yes.”
He stared at me, those eyes blaring as he searched my face. “No buts? No excuses?”
“No,” I said quietly. “There was a Dare. In the very beginning. But I—”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to hear it, Harper.” He turned to open his truck door, then turned back to me, leaned close for only my ears to hear. “I. Trusted. You,” he said harshly, emphasizing each word as they cut into me. His eyes dug into mine, angrier than I’d ever seen him. I wanted to explain. I wanted to tell him how wrong he was, how wrong I’d been, but I couldn’t. I knew it would be useless. Silently he turned, got in his truck, and didn’t look at me once as he started the engine and pulled away.
Inside, I trembled. My stomach hurt. My breath wouldn’t come.
What had I done?
I stared at his taillights as they disappeared into the darkness, and an ache came over me, a pain that hurt worse than anything had in a long, long time.