I remember losing myself in her. Wishing I could bury myself inside of her, and never leave. And then I remember holding her. Counting each time her stomach rose and fell as she breathed. The calm that washed over me as I did.
I don’t know at what point I dozed off. The last time I looked at the clock, it was nearly two thirty in the morning. The next thing I know I’m waking up nine hours later, wondering if everything I think I remember from last night was a dream – a much-needed break from the constant nightmares that usually plague my sleep.
But I know that’s not true either. I can still smell Harlow all around me like her smell has imprinted itself all over my bed, and perhaps all over me as well.
“You’re up.” Harlow’s voice startles me out of my thoughts, and I glance toward the doorway where she’s standing holding two cups of coffee and a bag from Broad Street Bakery.
“I thought you left,” I tell her, sitting up as she reaches the bed.
“I was going to, but then I thought maybe you’d be hungry. I bought danishes.” She shakes the bag in her hand.
“Well, I’m glad you came back,” I tell her truthfully, wondering how the hell I didn’t hear her come in the front door. I must be more out of it than I realized.
She smiles, taking a seat on the edge of the bed before pressing a cup of coffee into my hand. “Black, two sugars.”
“You know how I take my coffee?” I question, not able to stop the slow smile that pulls at my lips.
“Delia told me.” She shrugs. “Guess she thought it was useful information for me to know. It turns out she was right.” She sips from the cup in her hand before extending the small brown bag toward me. “Now, she didn’t tell me what kind of pastry you like, so I got cream cheese, strawberry, and apple.”
“I’m not picky.” I drop the bag on the bed in front of me and open it with my free hand, pulling out the top Danish which appears to be apple.
“I prefer the cream cheese myself,” she tells me, sipping her coffee again.
“Aren’t you going to have one?” I ask, eating half of the pastry in one big bite.
“I had one on the walk back.” She grins. “I was starving.” Her cheeks turn the palest shade of pink when she meets my gaze, and I know she’s thinking about last night.
Hell, right now I’m thinking about last night too, especially every time I look at her mouth.
I shove the remainder of the pastry into my mouth and immediately go in for another, afraid that if I don’t, I’ll have her pinned beneath me in a matter of seconds. Although if last night was any indication, I don’t think she’d object.
But things feel different in the light of day. Last night I let my desire rule my decision and not my brain. Today, I need to proceed cautiously; at least until I figure out what the hell we’re doing here. This is a delicate situation. Not only is Harlow my best friend’s sister, but she also works for me.
“I also swung by the little boutique on the corner and got me a new outfit and some makeup. If it’s okay, I thought I’d shower here and then head to work.” She pauses. “If it’s a problem I can always run home and do it.”
“You can get ready here,” I quickly interject, sensing her unease. It’s clear she’s not quite sure how to act around me, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t getting some satisfaction knowing she’s squirming a bit, no doubt wondering what happens next. I’ve got a few ideas of what I’d like to happen next, my earlier thoughts of proceeding cautiously exiting almost as quickly as they had entered. “There’s no sense in you going all the way home to turn around and come back,” I tell her, considering my apartment is only a block from Inked.
“Okay.” She lets out a slow breath and tips her coffee to her lips, taking a small sip before resting the cup just above her knee.
“Under one condition.” I wait until her gaze comes to me before continuing, “I get to shower with you.” The color in her cheeks grow deeper.
“I thought after last night you would have had your fill,” she says, a small smile playing on the corner of her mouth.
Grabbing the coffee from her hand, I lean forward and set both cups on the nightstand before swinging my legs over the side of the bed and standing, the blanket falling away as I do.
I don’t try to hide my obvious arousal or how pleased it makes me to see the way she reacts to me standing naked in front of her.
“It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than one night to get my fill of you, Harlow Cabell.” Leaning down, I scoop her into my arms. “We’ll start with the shower, and then we can go from there.”
Chapter Sixteen
Harlow
“It looks like it’s healing nicely.” Miles trails his finger along the border of my tattoo, careful to avoid touching it directly. “Does it itch much?”
“Not really.” I smile up at him from my place on the tattoo chair.
He just finished up with a client, and I came in to see him, using the excuse I wanted him to check on my ink and make sure it was healing okay. In reality, I just wanted a few minutes alone with him.
“That’s good.” He pushes up, his hands pressing into the chair on either side of my hips as he leans into me. “I can’t stop thinking about last night.” He kisses me gently. “Or this morning.” He trails his tongue along my bottom lip, and my hands instantly go into his hair.
“Me too.” I practically moan at the thought, melting into him when he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding expertly against mine.
I swear I don’t know how it happened. How we went from barely tolerating each other to not being able to keep our hands off each other. It seems surreal.
“Maybe I should fuck you right here,” he whispers against my lips, his hand sliding up my bare leg before dipping between my thighs.
I wish I could say I picked this skirt because it’s cute and not because I was hoping it would drive Miles crazy, but that simply wouldn’t be true. Lucky for me it seems to be working so I can’t be too mad at myself for it.
The moment his fingers brush against my panties my whole body tenses, instantly craving the feeling of him inside of me.
This feeling is foreign to me. I’ve never been an overly sexual person. I honestly never understood what the big deal was. It was something I always did with Alan out of obligation, never because I really wanted it. But last night Miles opened my eyes to an entirely different world. He showed me so much pleasure and took my body places even I didn’t know it could go.
I wanted to taste him, touch him, and feel him everywhere. And it’s safe to say those feelings have only intensified over the last eighteen hours.
“Well, what are you waiting for then?” I finally respond, having been rendered speechless for a long moment as his thick fingers slid inside me.
“You’re so greedy,” he grinds against me as I move my hips in time with his fingers, causing waves of pleasure to course through my body.
“Fuck me, Miles,” I practically beg, already feeling an orgasm coming on even though he’s been touching me for less than two minutes.
“Shhh,” he whispers against my lips before kissing me good and hard.
“Miles,” I whimper, feeling the deep build start to work its way up.
“Come for me, baby.” His lips are against my mouth, swallowing up my cries of pleasure when I explode around his fingers seconds later. “Good girl,” he rasps, slowly pulling his hand away after the last waves of my orgasm have passed.
I reach for the buckle of his pants, nowhere near finished, when a hard knock sounds on the door.
“Miles, your seven o’clock is here,” Chuck calls from the hallway.
“I’ll be right there,” Miles calls back, his eyes locked on mine.
As if suddenly remembering where I am and what the hell I’m doing, I quickly jump down from the chair and head for the door, feeling embarrassed by my actions.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Miles cuts me off, spinning me around seconds before pressing my ba
ck to the door.
“I don’t know what I was thinking.” I shake my head, looking anywhere but at his face. “We’re at work,” I whisper yell.
“Harlow, look at me.” He forces my gaze to him before continuing, “This is my business, and as long as I own it, I will touch you and fuck you anywhere and anytime I want. Are we clear?”
“Yes,” I pant, his assertiveness super sexy.
“Good.” He kisses the tip of my nose in an unexpectedly sweet gesture. “Now get your ass back to work. We’ll finish this later,” he tells me, promise in his eyes.
“Okay.” I don’t try to hide my smile as I snake my hand around his neck and pull his mouth down to mine.
——
“I was beginning to think you forgot where you lived,” Winston says seconds after I step inside his apartment.
“Sorry. I had a few drinks last night. Crashed at Delia’s,” I lie, instantly feeling guilty for doing so.
The sad thing is, Winston would probably love Miles and me together. He loves Miles like family. But I’m not ready to share with him that I’m falling hard and fast for his best friend. Mainly because beyond the incredible sex, I don’t know what, if anything, Miles wants out of this. Better to keep it between us for now.
“And you couldn’t have called?” he questions, flipping off the television before giving me his full attention.
“It was late. I figured you were asleep. Besides, since when are you, my father?” I quickly add.
“I’m your brother. That’s the next in line.” He smirks, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he lounges on the couch.
“Uh huh.” I shake my head at him before taking off toward my bedroom.
“Hey, you want to do Chinese food and a movie tonight? That new movie about the creepy porcelain doll just came out,” he calls after me.
“Um, I’ll pass.” I stop at the base of the hallway and turn back toward him. “You know I hate movies like that. Besides, it’s getting late, and I’m exhausted.”
“Pussy.”
“Really?” I cock my head. “Says the guy who slept on my floor for two days after watching IT for the first time.”
“I was like twelve at the time.” He throws his hands up in the air.
“Yeah, a twelve-year-old sleeping on his seven- year-old sister’s floor.” I laugh.
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“Never.” My smile widens as I spin and disappear inside my room, closing the door behind me.
I collapse on my bed the instant I reach it, feeling both mentally and physically exhausted. Miles had asked me to come back to his apartment with him again tonight. While I really wanted to, after last night and then what transpired today at work, I felt like I needed some time to let my brain catch up with everything that’s happened over the last couple of days.
I know it’s silly, but I feel a little guilty about sleeping with Miles. Alan and I are divorced in every way that really matters, but the fact that it’s not final on paper yet bothers me probably more than it should.
It’s not about Alan. He slept with plenty of women during the span of our marriage. No, this is more about me and the person I thought I was. For years I had perfection drilled into my head. I felt like I had to be on point twenty-four hours a day and do everything a certain way. I guess it’s hard for me to shut that part of myself off and realize that I don’t have to be perfect because life isn’t perfect.
Being with Miles isn’t cheating on Alan. Being with Miles has nothing to do with Alan.
I let out a loud sigh, wishing I could purge my mind of Alan Nagel and never think of him again. Unfortunately, you don’t spend nearly ten years with someone, six of those years married, and then walk away thinking you can erase them from your life.
I still hear him in the back of my head. The doubts he used to plant inside me boil to the surface. It’s been months since I left and I still can’t escape it. Except last night I did. Last night I didn’t hear his voice. I didn’t think or fear or question. I acted on feeling alone, and to be honest, it was probably the first time in my life I’ve honestly felt free.
Miles Hollins has been a surprise and one I certainly never saw coming, but something deep down I know I’ve needed for a very long time.
It’s hard not to overthink it – not to get inside my head and run through all the doubts and questions still swirling there. I’ve always been an all or nothing kind of person. I don’t do well in limbo which is why I ended up with Alan. I rushed into the first thing that came my way because I was desperate for the security that relationships offer.
I won’t do that with Miles. I won’t make demands, and I won’t push for more than he’s ready to give. Hell, I’m still technically married, still fresh out of that relationship. I don’t need to hop out of a ten-year relationship and into another one within a couple of months’ time. I promised myself last night that I would let this unfold naturally, even if it goes against every fiber of my being.
I have to stamp down my urge to put an instant label on us and accept that things will work out the way they’re meant to. Maybe it will just be sex for a while. Maybe it will blossom into something more. Maybe it will end in a fiery crash, and we’ll both go up in flames. I guess at the end of the day only time will tell.
My cell phone chimes in my purse and without sitting up, I reach for where I dropped it behind me. Finally snagging the strap, I pull the small bag toward me and dig out my cell phone.
My heart instantly picks up speed when I see Miles’ name dancing across the screen. I debate whether or not I should answer it for less than half a second before I’ve got the device pressed to my ear.
“Hello.”
“What are you doing this weekend?” he says without as much as a greeting.
“I was planning on looking at a few apartments on Saturday, but other than that I don’t have anything planned. Why?”
“Apartments can wait. I’ve arranged for Delia to take my two clients on Saturday so I’m free for an entire weekend for the first time in maybe ever.”
“I wish I could, but I really have to start trying to find a place,” I object. I’d much rather spend the time with Miles, but I really need to get this ball rolling. The sooner I’m out of my brother’s apartment, the better.
“Too bad. You’re mine Friday night through Sunday.”
“Have I told you lately how bossy you are?” I smile into the phone, butterflies flapping around wildly in my stomach.
“Only like every five minutes.” He chuckles. “I’ll give you a couple of days off next week for apartment hunting. This weekend it’s just you and me. I’m going to lock you in this apartment and not let you out for two days straight.”
“Is that so?”
“Do you have a problem with that?” he questions, his tone giving away that he already knows I don’t.
“I suppose I could make that work.” I sigh playfully.
“Wear a skirt to work again tomorrow. I like the easy access.” I can hear the smile in his voice seconds before the line goes dead.
I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it for a long moment.
How the hell did we go from barely friends two weeks ago to ripping each other’s clothes off in a matter of days? It’s like we were two people yesterday and today we are two completely different people.
I drop my phone on the bed next to me and stare up at my ceiling, fighting the sudden urge I have to scream and dance around my room like a teenage girl.
Chapter Seventeen
Miles
“I think maybe we should eat, but I’m too damn comfortable to move.” I kiss the top of Harlow’s head that’s perched on my chest.
“Five more minutes.” She nuzzles deeper into my embrace, her hand sliding across my stomach.
It’s Saturday afternoon, and we’ve yet to leave this room today. Part of that is because we slept late, having stayed up into the wee hours of the morning. The o
ther part goes without saying.
Like the first night, Harlow stayed, sleep came easier and more peaceful than it normally does. I thought the first time was a fluke, but then after last night, I know without a doubt that it’s because she’s here. She calms my mind and makes me feel oddly at peace in a way I haven’t felt in a very, very long time.
I’ve slept with more than my fair share of women over the years and not one has made me feel the way Harlow does. She doesn’t have to say anything. Just being near her makes me feel better. I can’t quite explain why because I don’t fully understand it myself.
“Tell me about this tattoo.” Harlow interrupts my thoughts, running her fingers lazily along my stomach where a large tattoo stretches down one side and across part of my abdomen.
I look down at the large piece Dexter did for me not long after I started working for him. It’s of three silhouetted soldiers huddled together in a field of poppies – helmets on their heads and guns in their hands. I had it done just a few months after I had left the military. To say I was struggling to adapt to being back on U.S. soil would be a complete understatement.
Those first couple of years were the hardest. Coming home when so many of my brothers never did left me with more guilt than I knew how to process. Hell, even now, eight years later, I still haven’t been able to fully deal with everything that happened during my time overseas.
“Dexter did it for me,” I say, clearing the knot out of my throat.
“The guy who used to own Inked?”
“Yeah.” I nod even though her eyes are turned down toward the tattoo.
“Three soldiers,” she says, tracing each one lightly with the tip of her finger. “Does it mean something specific?”
“Patterson, Rodgers, and Perez.” It’s the first time I’ve said their names out loud in years.
“They served with you?”
“Yep.”
“Why poppies?” She moves her finger down, tracing around one of the flowers.
“Poppies are a symbol of remembrance,” I inform her as I stare up at the ceiling, trying to push down the instant tightness that forms in my chest.
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