by Liv Morris
As I watch her chew the piece of bread, a sobering thought hits me. I’ve never cared how drunk a woman gets when we’re out. I don’t even keep tabs. Feeling responsible for another person’s welfare is uncharted territory for me and she’s not even mine.
Two martinis and one Jack into our meal; I’m working through a damn good steak, but she’s only picking at her girlie salad. I ask her if it tastes bad, but she waves it off as not being that hungry.
I’ve been keeping the conversation easy and casual between us, hoping she loosens up. The martinis haven’t hurt, and I’m hoping the vodka works as a truth serum. I want her defenses down so I can ask her questions about her life with my uncle. Jonathan dropping so much information in my lap stoked my curiosity.
“Are you in school, Harlow, or working?” Her radiant beauty comes to life before me as she widens her bright blue eyes and grins from ear to ear. Her smile stops the world around me and takes my breath away. This one joyful smile means more to me than all the women in my past combined.
“I was working at a restaurant not far from here until I met James. I was saving up for school and a place to live on my own. I think I’ve convinced him to let me take some creative writing classes, though.” Her words come out quickly, and she appears truly happy for the first time tonight. “I love writing, especially poetry. My mother used to write out my poems before I could even read. I don’t ever remember not writing.”
“That’s awesome. You know your talents. Not everyone is so lucky. So, you’re going to enroll at the local campus?”
“I’ll take classes online. James prefers it that way. Plus, the local campus revolves around science and medicine.”
He prefers and she obeys. I think I’ve got their routine down now. She’s at home alone with nothing to do but sit there and wait for him to come home to The Fortress, as she called it. She might as well wear prison garb instead of her sexy as hell dress.
“Will you miss having the personal interaction with an instructor and other students?”
“It would be nice to hear a lecture or openly discuss a book with others.” There is a longing in her voice that turns her eyes sad again, the light vanishing. Gone is her enthusiasm from five seconds ago. It proves to me she’s lonely as hell. My heart feels heavy for her and I can’t seem to shake wanting that beautiful smile back on her face.
“So, what are you doing to keep busy?”
“Nothing since James wants me free to plan our wedding.”
“Yes, the wedding,” I say in a clipped tone. I can’t hide my displeasure. Her life revolves around my uncle. I want to ask her what she wants, but I’m not sure she can see beyond my uncle’s desires. They rule her life, or maybe he does. I need to ask her one more question.
“I’m curious about something. How did you meet my uncle?” She looks down and twists the napkin in her lap. She’s working on an answer to what should be a simple question. Taking a deep breath, she begins, but doesn’t look up at me.
“We met at The Clinic. I was at the hospital for something and he introduced himself to me. I think it was fate, because I was at a really low point in my life. We’ve been together ever since.”
She lifts her eyes to mine and gives me a weak smile. It’s a sad disguise to mask the truth. She left out all the hurt and heartache surrounding their meeting, but discussing the murder of your mother with someone you just met can’t be easy. I decide to drop the subject for now.
After a few moments of silence, she speaks up. “What made you decide on medicine?”
“Do you know what a gap year is?”
“Where you take off a year between high school and college?” she guesses correctly, and I nod.
“I had a wild gap year in Australia. By wild, I mean the devil lit a fire under me. Drugs, tattoos, women.” She blushes and looks down for a second. Shit, if she knew what I did with those women, she would be disgusted. Threesomes, foursomes—fuck, it was one big orgy.
“I was rebelling against my father, and hell bent on pushing the edge of everything I could. One day, a group of us rode out into the desert on our motorcycles and a friend wiped out. He was thrown from his bike and I watched him fade away as he died in my arms. He went from my friend with a soul to nothing. If I’d known what to do, I might’ve saved him. Something clicked inside me as I held him and I knew in my gut I had to be a doctor. I came home a week later and got my shit together for good.”
“Oh, Sin. I know what that’s like. Holding someone in your arms while …” she trails off, her eyes misting with tears. She reaches out across the table and takes my hand in hers. The warmth of her skin against mine spreads a fiery heat throughout my body. It’s the sweetest connection I’ve ever experienced in my life, and I don’t want to let her go.
A tear begins to fall down her cheek and I can’t help myself. I stretch out my free hand and wipe it away with my finger. I wonder if the tears mean her mother died in her arms, too. Right as I’m about to apologize for upsetting her, a voice calls our names.
“Harlow, Sinclair.”
James’ stern voice booms as he eyes the table where our hands are connected. We’ve been caught in an intimate moment that looks bad from his perspective. Harlow quickly releases my hand and I sit up straight.
James pulls Harlow from her chair and draws her against his chest in a tight embrace. He kisses her on the top of her head and glares daggers down at me. I don’t miss the silent question. He wants to know what the fuck I was doing touching her. I can’t believe I’m thirty seconds into seeing him and we’re already in a pissing contest.
He thinks she’s his, but I wonder if he’s worthy enough to be hers.
“How’s my beautiful girl? You’ve had quite the day.” He glides his hands lower on her back, where my hand touched her earlier.
“Hey, James.” I pause, trying to smile as if I mean it, but it’s hard. I reach out my hand in hopes he takes his off her. “I’m thinking about ordering another drink.”
“Hi, Sin.” James releases his hold on Harlow and shakes my hand. “Another drink, huh? I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” He turns to Harlow. “How many have you had, love? You smell like vodka.”
“The server spilled a dirty martini. Went all over her dress,” I say, jumping in to defend Harlow.
“I’ve had two.” Harlow lowers herself awkwardly onto her chair and James takes one of her hands in his as he bends down toward her, caressing her cheek. He pushes a lone strand of hair behind her ear. The light touch of his fingers trails along her jaw line, lifting her chin so their eyes meet.
“We discussed the martinis, remember? I think it’s time to get you home.” His tone leaves no room for argument. I’m seeing the do-as-I-say James with her, and I don’t fucking care for it one bit. He comes across as a complete and utter ass.
“James … um, do we have to leave?” Harlow begs in a childlike tone.
“Yes. You’ve had a lot to drink and a busy day, one we need to discuss when we get home.” His decision makes her pouty lips stick out even more—a sweet and sexy casualty of her pleading.
I throw a few hundred dollars down on the table, knowing it will cover the food and tip I promised Jonathan. We exit without running in to him, so my cover and lies aren’t exposed.
“I parked next to you, Harlow.” He walks toward her car with his arm around her waist.
James places a drunk Harlow into his Mercedes sedan as I watch by the front of the car. I’m guessing I’ll be driving Harlow’s car home. James closes her door and walks up to me. His glare has softened around his eyes, but his jaw remains tense—stretched.
“Thanks so much for letting me stay with you,” I say, trying to break the tension between us.
He puts his hands into his gray pants pockets and eyes me. “Listen, I’m sorry about tonight when you—”
“Hold it, Sinclair,” he interrupts, raising his hand to me. “I think it would be better if we discussed it later. Believe me, this isn’t the first time
someone I know has been attracted to Harlow.” Maybe this explains why he keeps her locked up, but how can he be so insecure and horrible to someone he loves?
“Okay, but I promise it wasn’t what it looked like.”
“Like I said, we’ll talk back at the house. Just you and me.” He jiggles something in his pocket then hands me the keys to Harlow’s car. “How many have you had tonight?”
“Just one Jack.”
“Okay. Follow me home and stay close behind.”
We drive through the town and before I know it, we’re out in the middle of nowhere. I hardly see a car on the street or a side road. And I thought the town looked deserted; it feels like I’m in Timbuktu.
Per James’ request, I remain behind him, keeping my gaze on the back of his car since there isn’t anything else to look at. My headlights shine into the back window, giving me a clear view of their shadows … except I don’t see Harlow’s. Her shadow pops up between the two front seats and then moves back down as James pushes the back of her head … Shit.
The Mercedes starts to swerve back and forth a little and I come to one conclusion: he’s making a drunken Harlow give him a fucking blowjob.
I picture Harlow’s red lips around his cock with her head bobbing up and down and my stomach turns. Goddammit. After what Harlow has told me tonight, my uncle doesn’t deserve this beautiful woman, but there’s nothing I can do to make them stop. Gripping the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turn white and I grit my teeth, cursing for the next mile or two.
Harlow’s head reappears and James’ driving becomes normal again. That fucker. I want to say he took advantage of her, but I have to be honest with myself. I can’t count the number of times I’ve gotten road head from a tipsy girl.
James turns on his blinker and I follow suit. I look to the right and see a tall white fence with large brick posts every few feet. From what Harlow described, this has to be their place. She was right; it does look like a fortress.
A few feet later, James makes a turn into a driveway and a large metal gate opens up. I can’t see the house too well in the distance, but even in the shadows, it appears to be gigantic. We proceed farther until we’re at a circle drive in front of a sprawling brick home that could be mistaken for a mini-hotel
Anxious to see if Harlow is okay, I park behind him, jump out of my car, and walk up to the Mercedes.
She staggers out of the car with messed up hair and her clothing askew, clutching what looks like her white bra. She stuffs the bra inside her bag, leans against the car to take off her heels, and walks barefoot toward the front door, turning her head to stare at me. Her eyes are sad, desperate. I want to rush to her and pull her into my arms, but I can’t. Instead, I try to tell her I’m sorry for how James is treating her with my eyes. She turns away from me and the moment is gone.
James comes to stand by my side and throws his arm over my shoulder. I tighten my fists a little more.
“Girl’s got quite the mouth on her.” He chuckles at his dirty joke. It takes everything I have not to pummel him to the ground and defend Harlow’s honor from his cheap comment. My uncle is a sick fucking bastard. “Grab your suitcase, Sinclair.”
He releases my shoulder and strolls away. I close my eyes and wonder what the hell happened tonight.
All I wanted was to come to Rochester for a quick four-week program, then head back to the city and start med school July first. Seemed simple to me.
But as James stands by the open door waiting for me, I feel like there’s another reason I’m here. Goddammit.
Chapter Ten
Harlow
The car stereo plays a sultry jazz melody as we hit the dark outskirts of Rochester. James hasn’t spoken a word to me since we left the restaurant and my anxiety builds with each passing minute of silence. What he saw—what he believes he saw—between Sin and me, has left him fuming.
His mood pushes me farther away from him as I lean hard against the car window. I’m praying he calms down, but his tense, drawn face says otherwise. I wish I were a braver soul and could talk to him, but the coward in me holds my tongue.
“Harlow, look at me.” Finally, he speaks. I turn my head toward him and cringe at what I see.
The lights from Sin’s car shine through the back window, illuminating James’ face. Anger radiates from his stormy blue eyes and his nostrils flare. He’s boiling mad. He glances back to the road for a few seconds, releasing me from his gaze.
“What were you doing holding Sinclair’s hand?” he spits out through gritted teeth. “Make me understand.”
I take a deep breath and prepare to tell him the complete truth. Nothing less will suffice. No lies or pretending. Truth.
“I promise it was not what you think.” He interrupts me with a huff and a tsk. I chalk it up as a gut reaction. “I know it looked bad. But I promise, it was a show of support. I asked Sin why—”
“You mean Sinclair.” His jaw forms into a knot as his eyes return to the road. The only movement from him is the heavy rise and fall of his chest.
“Yes, Sinclair. I asked a question and he gave me an honest answer. I wondered what made him choose to be a doctor.”
“I don’t know why the hell I agreed for him to come here. I never should’ve listened to my damn mother,” James interrupts again, and I’m getting upset that he won’t let me explain.
“Stop it,” I softly declare. “Please, give me a chance to finish.”
“Well, by all means,” he sneers.
“His friend was injured and died as he held him. Sinclair felt helpless to save him. I know what that’s like. Having someone die and feeling helpless.” My voice breaks and I scan James’ face.
His shoulders fall and the tension deflates inside the car as his death grip on the steering wheel loosens. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, hoping he believes me and this crazy battle has come to an end.
“And him touching your face?” He glances to the right, his eyes questioning.
“I started crying, remembering my mother.” I move closer to James and place my hand on his shoulder. “It’s the truth. I promise.”
“Why do you think I question you?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I confess.
“Do you love me, Harlow?” I lean over toward him and run my fingers through his hair, massaging him tenderly. He relaxes under my touch and I answer him with resolve.
“Of course I do.”
“Then actually say it.” He removes my hand from his hair and holds it tight in his. “Say it, Harlow.”
I search deep inside myself for the words and feelings. I close my eyes, but all I feel is the touch of Sin’s fingers on my cheek. His soft caress. His thoughtful words. It has to be the vodka making me confused. I shake the thoughts from my mind.
James’ fingers tighten even more, his painful grip demanding the words from me. I say them in my head. I love you, I chant it again and again. Finally, my lips move.
“I …” I pause and he takes his eyes off the road, connecting them with mine. Waiting. “I love you.” The illusive words are finally spoken, but are they the truth? My heart doesn’t follow them with a feeling. Surely, it would soar within me and confirm they’re genuine.
“Harlow, Harlow,” he murmurs in reverence, as if my profession of love has brought him to his knees.
He takes my hand and brings it to his lips. His gentle kisses make me drift to a memory from a couple hours ago when Sin’s lips brushed over my knuckles. I felt everything then. My senses hummed. Now, I feel nothing.
I try to ease my hand from his, but his grip holds me in place. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say these words?” He places another kiss on my hand. “I forgive you for tonight.”
I do need his forgiveness, because his lips aren’t the ones I want on me. The ones I want belong to the man driving the car behind us. The fact that he’s James’ nephew makes me feel even more ashamed. What is wrong with me?
“You say you love me
, but I need you to show me your love. Erase what I saw.” He releases my hand and I can guess what he wants: sex. It’s how he communicates.
“Unzip your dress and remove your bra,” he instructs, his voice rough.
I don’t want to upset him more, so I work myself out of my dress and bra. The air conditioning blows across my bare breasts and my nipples harden. I’m tempted to cover them with my hands, but he wouldn’t approve, so they stay at my sides.
Eyeing my exposed body, he licks his lips, pleased with what he sees. He reaches over to touch the side of my breast, cupping it with his hand. His thumb finds my nipple and strokes over it, pinching it hard. I inhale a sharp breath at the assaulting sensation.
“You’re utter perfection. Feel how hard you make me.” His fingers leave my breast and grip my hand. Placing my hand over his bulging erection and curling my fingers around him, I close my eyes.
“Now, unzip my pants and put me in your hot mouth.”
I prepare him as he requested. Having performed this act countless times, my mind goes blank and I go through the motions of pleasuring him, using my hands, tongue, and mouth like he has taught me.
“Come on, Harlow. Suck, baby. Suck.” I continue to work him up and down with an open throat.
He threads his fingers through my hair and grips the strands like he’s holding a rope. All my movements belong to his command. Up and down. The pace quickens. The depth goes beyond my comfort zone and I gag, over and over again.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His screams join the rhythmic music as he releases into my mouth, freeing my hair from his vise grip. I have survived.
He breathes hard as I sit up and brush the tangled hair from my face. I must look a mess. A quick glance out the front window shows me we’ve arrived. Seeing the gated entrance, I realize I have mere seconds to redress. I slip my arms through my dress and zip it up as James stops the car in front of our house.
I rush to exit the car, wanting to be inside before Sin gets out of his, but James grabs onto my shoulder as I reach for the door.
“Wait for me inside the foyer. I need to talk with Sinclair first,” he demands, and I don’t argue.