“So, are you going to tell me what was said between you and my dad?” I ask him.
“No.”
“Why not?” I pout.
“Because, it’s between me and your dad. Man’s business. I told you I’d sort it out and I did, didn’t I?”
“Did you? I don’t know; that’s what I’m asking.”
His face turns thoughtful, and I shake my head at him. If he even has to think about it . . .
“Your dad is a confusing man, Harper. He kind of talks in circles and he doesn’t come straight out with what he’s thinking . . .”
“I know all this.”
“Yes, well . . . It was an interesting conversation, but yes . . . I did sort it.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Why?” He narrows his eyes at me.
“You met my dad. He can’t be softened that easily.”
“Daisy, didn’t I tell you I had a way with the parents? They love me.”
“I might believe he’s decided to give you a chance or even that he’s going to go easy on you. Maybe he apologised for being so rude, but I’ll never believe he loves you.”
Tate chuckles. “Well, okay, I wouldn’t say he loves me, but I definitely got him to soften, and that was after one night. Imagine what I could do with a few years! He’ll eventually come to love me.”
I laugh at his cockiness, but deep down I hope he’s right. I hope my dad does come to love and adore Tate as much as I do.
“It really is beautiful here,” he interrupts my thoughts.
“I used to come here a lot to get away from Mum and Dad. If I needed to think or wanted some peace and quiet, to be by myself.”
“I can see why.” I pause and gaze up at the ancient tree in front of me. “We have nothing this beautiful in the city. After Mum and Dad passed away, when I wanted to get away, I would sneak up to the rooftop.”
“You should see it at night.” I sigh. “The sky is so clear and the stars are so bright. It’s breathtaking.”
“Well, maybe we could stay until dark?”
“Well, I mean, only if you don’t have special plans with the minister. You know, now you’ve bonded and all.”
I scream as Tate attacks me, digging his fingers into my stomach and tickling me. He rolls me over until I am lying on my belly and he is straddling my thighs. I’m unable to move and am left wriggling around beneath him as he tortures me.
“Now, say sorry,” he tells me as he digs his fingers in harder.
“No.”
“Harper Louise . . .”
“Oh, God . . .”
“Say sorry.” He leans over me and kisses under my ear.
“I’m sorry.”
“What was that?” He sucks the crook of my neck.
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s better.” He kisses along my shoulder.
Tate slides his hands under my T-shirt and runs them up my back and I relax at his warm touch. He lifts my top up my back and places soft warm kisses across the top of my shoulder blades, working his way down, leaving no bit of skin untouched.
Reaching the waist of my jeans, he slides his hand underneath me and undoes the button and zip. He slowly pulls them down and kisses lightly across my lower back and down over my butt. He drags his lips down the back of my thighs as he continues pulling my jeans off.
Continuing the chase all down my legs, he spends some time at the backs of my knees, kissing, nibbling, and sucking, causing me to moan before following down my calves.
Once he has slipped my shoes off and stripped me of my pants, he flips me over onto my back before straddling me again. He lifts my T-shirt off, leaving me lying on the blanket in only my bra and panties.
“You are so fucking hot. You know that, right?”
I smile shyly up at him. I should be used to him talking to me like this by now, but it still embarrasses me, and I’m not totally sure how to respond.
He leans forward and layers kisses down the front of my body just as he did to the back. I close my eyes and my head rolls back as I revel in the attention he is showing me. A cool breeze blows over me, causing goosebumps to break out all over my skin.
Reaching down, I pull at the hem of Tate’s T-shirt, trying to tug it off. He sits up so I’m able to pull it off over his head and get straight to work at the button and zip on his jeans. Tate stands and strips them off and is over me once more, this time lying on top of me.
Kissing me softly, he whispers against my lips, “I love you, Harper. So fucking much.”
“I love you, too.”
Tate unclips and strips off my bra before slipping off our underwear. He kneels back on his heels as he lines himself up at my entrance. Circling his hips, he teases me with the tip and I groan in frustration. Tate smiles and then pushes himself inside me, inch by inch, filling me up slowly.
I wrap my legs tightly around his waist and he moves faster and faster inside me. He grabs my ass in his hands and tilts my pelvis back as he thrusts harder. I scream out as he hits me deeper, as he drags himself in and out of me.
The familiar sensation builds and I grab onto the blanket beneath me. Tate’s thrusts become harder and less controlled, and I can feel my orgasm teetering on the edge.
He thrusts long and deep before he stills, pouring himself inside of me, calling out my name. Thrusting three more times, he finishes off and it pushes me over the edge.
“Oh God, Tate, oh God,” I call out, losing myself in him.
He falls onto me, our bodies pressed together, covered in a light layer of sweat. Tate rolls us over and takes the blanket with him, essentially wrapping us up in it.
“Fuck, Harper,” he breathes heavily.
“I know. It just gets more and more intense.” I nuzzle into his neck, breathing in his perfect scent.
“I want to ask you something.” His voice is serious, and it pulls me out of my post-lust haze.
“What?”
“I want you to move in with me,” he blurts.
“Tate . . .”
“Harper . . .” He doesn’t give me a chance for a rebuttal. “I know what you’re going to say. It’s too soon, we haven’t been together long, blah, blah, blah.” I raise my eyebrows at his attitude. “But I don’t care about any of that. All that’s about is how it’ll look, what people will think.”
“Yes, it’s those things, but it’s not all about that,” I argue.
“Well, what else is it about?”
“We don’t know each other that well. I’ve moved too quick with guys before, and I mean, I’ve been with guys a lot longer and still—”
“Don’t,” he says harshly. “Don’t compare me or what we have to all the others.”
“I’ve been staying at your place anyway; what’s wrong with that? Why can’t we just keep doing that?”
“Because I don’t want to. I want to know you are truly mine. I want to make a home with you, and while you still have your apartment, we can’t do that. It’s not about how it’ll look or what people think, it’s about how we feel. How do you feel Harper?”
I release a deep breath. “It feels right. This feels right. I’ve never felt this way before and . . .”
“And what?”
“And even though my head is screaming at me to say no, my heart couldn’t think of anything it wants more than to move in with you.”
Tate smiles wide and then he kisses me, long and hard.
“Maybe we shouldn’t tell my mum and dad yet though, okay?” I suggest wearily.
“Don’t worry, Daisy, I’ve got the minister covered.” He winks at me.
We lay cuddled and wrapped up well into the dark, talking about everything we are going to do. Not only with the move, which Tate has decided has to happen Monday, but with the rest of our lives, too.
I know without a doubt that’s where this is going. And it couldn’t feel more right.
Finally making our way home well after dinner, we find my parents sitting on the porch swing t
ogether.
“You’ve been gone all day,” my mother says, her voice laced in concern.
“We spent the day at the lake.”
“There’s dinner in the oven if you are hungry.”
“Thanks Mum, but we’ve been eating all day.”
“Cheese, crackers, and fruit hardly constitutes dinner.”
I laugh at my mum knowing exactly what groceries Tate and I had purchased from the store. “Spoke to Mrs. Bradbury today?”
“No, Mrs. Maxwell dropped by.” My dad has what seems like a small grin on his face, but I can’t be sure; it’s been so long since I’ve seen it.
“Make sure you feed Tate, at least. He’s a man.”
“I think we are going to have a shower and head to bed.” Walking over to the side of their seat, I give my mum and dad a kiss on the cheek.
Tate does the same, except he shakes my dad’s hand. “Goodnight, Mr. and Mrs. Lindell. Thank you for dinner.”
We wave to my mum and dad and head inside to my room.
“You sure you don’t want something to eat? I can get something ready while you have a shower,” I offer Tate as we enter my bedroom.
“No thanks, baby. I’m stuffed. Doing nothing but relaxing really takes it out of you.” He yawns, putting the blanket and cooler bag on my bed.
“It’s all the fresh air and sunshine. You know, you wouldn’t be used to it, growing up in the big city.” I say the last bit in a country accent, and Tate laughs as he stalks towards me.
Wrapping his arms around my waist, he pulls me up against him. “You’re more than welcome to come and live back in the country if it’s where your heart really lies. I’ll go tell the minister right now.” He smirks at me and I hit his chest.
“Shut up.”
“That’s what I thought.” Tate kisses me hard and pulls away before it has really begun. “I’m going to get a shower. I’m exhausted. I’ll be out soon.” He gives me a quick kiss on the forehead and leaves my room.
Picking up the blanket and cooler box, I carry them to the kitchen, hearing the bathroom door close and the shower water start as I exit the hallway. How I wish I could be in there with him, helping him wash those hard to reach to places.
“What’s that smile for?” Mum asks as I enter the kitchen. She stands by the sink, her hands in soapy water, washing a few dishes with her head turned towards me.
“What smile?” I bite my lip, trying to contain my dirty thoughts.
“Hmmmm,” she mumbles.
Dropping the cooler box and blanket onto the kitchen table, I grab the dishtowel on my way to the sink. Picking up a plate, I dry the dishes Mum has placed onto the drying rack.
“Be careful, Harper Louise,” she says, her voice serious.
I sigh. “With what, Mum?” I know where this is going.
“Don’t give your heart away too soon—”
“It’s not too soon,” I butt in. “What? I should’ve married my high school sweetheart like you and everyone else is this dead-end town did?”
“Harper Louise,” she scolds me.
“I’m sorry, Mum. I didn’t mean it. It’s just . . . isn’t it better I date, and then when I meet the one I will know for sure? I do know, Mum. Tate is it.”
She gives me a sad smile as she wipes her hands on the towel I’m drying the plate with. “Sit down with me for a minute.”
Putting the plate down, I follow her out to the back porch and sit in the rocking chair next to hers.
“A mother gives her daughter an apple,” my mum starts. I roll my eyes at the religious analogy I know is coming. “She tells her to look after it and only give it to the man she wants to marry.” I nod as if I’m taking it all in, but really I’m just waiting for it to be over. “The young girl goes out and gives it to the first guy she sees. He takes a bite and spits it out. She then gives it to the next man she sees. He drops it on the floor in the dirt. She then gives it to the next man she comes across. He also takes a few bites and then throws it on the floor. She then . . .”
“Mum, I get it.”
“Okay, okay. So when she finally meets the one and she goes to give him her apple, the apple has bites taken out of it. It’s filthy from dirt and is bruised all over.”
“Are we talking about my virginity?” I hold back my laughter. “I think we both know it’s long gone.” My mother closes her eyes briefly, and I know it pains her even to think about it.
“Harper Louise, imagine your heart is an apple—”
“Mum.”
“Harper, please.”
“Okay, okay, my heart is an apple.”
“Now, think about all the men you’ve given your apple to. What kind of condition is your apple in, Harper?”
My eyes narrow on her as I take in her words. She stands from her rocking chair and kisses me lightly on the cheek before going back inside. She must sense I need time to ponder this.
I hate their crazy fables. I have been forced to listen to them since I can remember. I don’t even know where they get them from. Do they have textbooks full of them?
I’m not exactly sure what she’s trying to tell me. In some ways it seems obvious, but not in others. Is she warning me away from giving my heart to too many guys? Or does she know I’ve already given it to many and she’s telling me it’s damaged?
I don’t need a crazy parable to tell me that. I know my heart is damaged. I know it’s scarred and bruised. Even Tate knows. He knows about my past relationships, and how they’ve all ended. Is Mum saying Tate wouldn’t want my heart? That he doesn’t want it?
I groan in frustration. No matter how many years pass, no matter how long I’ve been away, they still know exactly what buttons to push to get to me and make me feel thirteen years old again.
The backdoor opens and Tate pops his head out. “I’ve been looking for you. What are you doing out here?”
“I was chatting with Mum. Did you see her?”
“No, they must be in bed. All the lights are switched off.” He makes his way over to me and lifts me by the hips into his arms before sitting down with me in his lap.
“What’s up, Daisy? You’re thinking hard about something.” He rubs the frown between my eyebrows with his thumb.
“Oh, just Mum putting crazy thoughts into my head.” I relax against his shoulder.
“Want to talk about it?”
“No.” I sigh.
“Don’t let them get to you, Daisy.”
“I know.” I close my eyes.
“We’ll be back home tomorrow.”
Home. Our home. Tate does want my heart. Scars, bruises, cuts, bites, and dirt, he wants it all. And I want him to have it.
“Come on, Daisy, go have a shower. You’ll feel better.”
“Can you carry me?” She looks up at me with puppy-dog eyes.
God, I can’t say no to this woman. Standing up from the rocking chair, I keep her in my arms. Her hold tightens around my neck, and I make my way inside the house, carrying her to the bathroom.
Gently, I put her down until she stands in the middle of the bathroom. “There . . .” I slap her ass. “Now get in the shower.”
“Can you undress me?” she pleads. Her puppy-dog eyes now wide and sensual.
I sigh loudly. “You’re testing me, Daisy.” I quickly strip off her clothes in the most unsexy way possible, never making eye contact with her. I know what her eyes will be saying, and I’m not sure I’ll have the restraint. Leaning in the shower, I start the warm water. “Now, in the shower,” I demand.
I go to make a quick exit as she asks, “Can you wash me?”
“Harper Louise,” I warn, and a huge grin takes over her face. “You’re evil. I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Her whining follows me as I exit the bathroom, rearranging my now hard cock in my jeans. She owns me. She owns me, and I fucking love it.
I settle myself in for another night in the minister’s creepy office. It’s a little easier tonight, knowing I’m taki
ng my girl home tomorrow. Home. To our house. Fucking hell, I’m the luckiest bastard on earth. I really thought it was going to take a bit more work to convince her, but in fact, she gave up pretty easily. I know that like me, Harper feels this is right. It’s meant to be.
I’m halfway to sleep when the cot shifts and a warm and freshly-showered Harper crawls over me.
“What are you doing?” I ask her cautiously, knowing she’s up to something.
“You didn’t kiss me goodnight,” she whispers.
I smile in the dark, knowing she can’t see it. Yeah, good excuse, Daisy. I give her a chaste kiss on the forehead. “There, now go to sleep.”
She rests her hand on my chest and my body freezes. No, don’t do it, Harper. She runs her hand down my chest and across my stomach. Her movements are slow and her touch is soft, causing every muscle in my body to spasm and coil tight.
“Harper,” I warn.
“What?” Her voice is innocent.
“You’re teasing me.”
“Baby, I just want to cuddle my boyfriend. No big deal.”
“Mm-hmm.” I wrap my arms around her and hold her tightly.
“I love you.” Her hand moves slowly down my stomach. “I really, really love you.” Her hand continues until it’s covering my cock. God, I love this woman. She is confident and fun. My own little spitfire.
“I love you, Daisy, and I want you so bad. But no matter what you say, I’m not having sex with you in the minister’s house. No fucking way,” I say seriously. Harper cracks up laughing, loudly. “Shhhhh. Baby, please keep it down. I don’t want to get busted.” Harper laughs harder and I’m about ready to run. She realises this as I throw the quilt off and go to jump out of the cot.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’ll be quiet.”
I lay back down, pulling her into my arms and placing the quilt over us again. “Go to sleep, Daisy. I want to get going early so I can get you home and fuck the shit out of you.” She gasps, and I smile to myself. Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
We got out of my parents’ house nice and early, saying our goodbyes and nice-to-meet-yous. We’re nearly home, and I can’t wait to finally be alone with Tate.
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