Текст книги "Obscured"

Автор книги: Tara Sue Me

Соавторы: Cat Waters
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

“Deal,” I say as he opens the door and waves me inside.

He leads me down a short hallway into a spacious kitchen. “I’ll give you the grand tour later, but right now you need something for the pain and food.”

My stomach rumbles at the thought of eating. Harris opens the nearby pantry and starts pulling things out. “Peanut butter and jelly sound good? It’s quick and easy to make, plus it has protein.”

“Sounds delightful.”

He waves toward a table in front  of a bay window. “Go sit down and let me get this ready.”

I don’t need to be told twice. I sit down and watch him work. He’s making himself a sandwich, too.

“Milk or something else?” he asks.

“Milk’s fine.”

Minutes later, he places the sandwich, milk, and two pills in front of me before taking his seat across from me. I raise my eyebrow at the pills.

“Ibuprofen,” he says.

I swallow them before taking a bite of the sandwich. “Oh my, God,” I say after my first bite. “This is the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich I’ve ever had.”

“Or else you were starving.”

“That, too,” I say around my second bite.

He’s quiet as I eat, and I appreciate the silence. As my belly is filled, my eyes grow more and more heavy. I’m surprised I’m not snoring by the time I pop the last bit of bread in my mouth. Harris has been watching me carefully, and when I finish, he stands up.

“We need to talk, but you need to sleep first,” he says.

I yawn, but push back from the table and follow him down a hall. He points to a bedroom. “That’s my room. You’ll be here,” he indicates an adjacent room.

Well, that answered one of my questions. I wouldn’t be sleeping in the same bed as he did. Which didn’t mean he wouldn’t expect sex at some point. Matter of fact, I’d be willing to bet he would want to sleep with me. Probably not now.

“A shower.” It hits me. I’d been so caught up in food, I forgot how rank I probably was.

He looks over me in assessment. “You’re barely able to keep your eyes open. I don’t think you and water would be good now.”

I yawn again. This time, bigger than the one in the kitchen. “You’re right.”

“I know I am.”  He doesn’t step inside the bedroom he’s declared mine. “Sleep now. When you wake up, you can take a shower and we’ll talk.”

He may be talking more, I’m not sure. My mind is totally not paying attention to him anymore. My focus is on the bed in front of me. It looks so inviting. I’ll sleep on top of the covers; that way I won’t get them smelly.

Harris says something from the doorway.

“What?” I ask.

“Come find me after you wake up and shower.”

“Yes,” I say, climbing up on the bed. “Sometime next year.”

He chuckles and closes the door.

***

I’m in a dark room. Either that or I’m blindfolded. I can't tell which. I’m also naked. It’s cold in the room and wish I had something to cover my body.

“Absolute perfection,” a strange  voice says.

I turn my head in the direction it’s coming from, but there’s nothing there. Must be a blindfold on me.

“She is,” a voice says that is eerily familiar. “Would you like to try her out?”

Someone unzips his pants. “How good is she at sucking dick?”

“She’s superb. But don’t you want her tight ass?”

“Maybe. I prefer my fucks to be intelligent as well as easy on the eye, though. Did she go to college?”

“She didn’t finish high school. Now, this one over here...”

His voice grows softer as they move away from me. I have a feeling I just failed something, but I don’t know what it is. I’m not sure where I am or who’s with me, and with my blindfold, I can’t get a good feel of my surroundings. The air around me moves and it suddenly gets colder.

“No one wants you.”

Mike! I struggle to move, but I can’t get my limbs to cooperate.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. You ever wonder why you never see an old whore?”

I must be tied to something. I’m getting nowhere and nothing comes out of my mouth when I try to scream.

You don’t see one because there aren’t any.” He draws closer to me. “And I think you’re old as you’re going to get.”

There’s something covering my face. Pressing. It’s a pillow and it’s getting harder and harder to breathe. I try to turn my head, but he’s too strong. My limbs flail uselessly. I can’t breathe. My lungs burn for air.

“Athena,”  Harris’s voice pulls me from the darkness. “Athena!”

I suck in a deep breath and open my eyes.

“Are you okay?” Harris’s normally jovial eyes are filled with concern. “You had a bad dream.”

“I couldn’t breathe.” The dream had seemed so lifelike that my lungs still ached.

“That’s probably because Munchkin decided your head made a good pillow.”

For the first time I see the large white cat beside me. “Munchkin?”

“He was the runt of the litter.”

“He’s part horse.”

The large ball of fur must sense that we’re discussing him. He rolls onto this back and Harris responds by rubbing his belly. “I think he’s mostly dog.”

Munchkin is purring. I reach for him and run my fingers over his soft fur. “I always wanted a pet. A dog or a cat.”

For a few minutes we’re silent, both of us rubbing Munchkin’s belly. It’s crazy how different my life has been the last few weeks compared to what it was for the last ten years. Sitting on a strange bed, in a strange house, petting a strange cat, doesn’t feel all that strange for some reason. I like it, but, then again, I look over to Harris. I shouldn’t like it.

Sure he appears nice enough, but they all do in the beginning. I can’t forget that even though this is a nice-looking house and there aren’t bars and gates, it’s still a prison. I can’t just decide to leave and walk out the door.

And no matter how good-looking he is, how nice, and how much he smiles, Caden Harris is still my jailer.

I pull away from Munchkin. “What did you want to talk about? I’m rested and not hungry. I’ll shower after.”

If Harris notes a change in my attitude, it doesn’t show. He says, “Okay, let’s go into the living room,” and scoops the monster cat off the bed. I follow him.

Like the other parts of the house I’ve seen, the living room is decorated in American bachelor fashion: big screen TV, leather sofa and recliners, and a desk in the corner with more electronic devices than most office supply stores have.

When he sits down on one end of the sofa and faces me, all traces of humor have left his expression.

“I made a deal with Mike to get you out of there. I can’t tell you everything, but what I do tell you is true. Do you trust me?”

I almost say ‘yes’. It’s the answer he’s looking for, the one he wants. But I can’t do it.

“No,” I finally reply.

“I can’t say I blame you,” he says. “I’m not sure I’d trust me either.”

“What kind of a deal did you make with Mike?”

“I was able to bring you here because I told him I’d see to it that you were prepared for your next assignment.”

“Which is?”

He shakes his head. “I can’t tell you that right now.”

“This is why I can’t trust you.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but there are things I can’t tell you right now.”

The leather of the sofa is cool against my fingers. It feels good against my heated flesh. “This isn't over, is it?”

“Not by a long shot, I’m afraid. I did get his permission to stay at home for the foreseeable future.”

Which meant he would always be around. I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind to simply leave the house when he went into work. Another useless plan shot to hell.

“The other thing,” he starts, and I already dread what the other thing is. “Mike’s letting me stay here and not be at the office with him because he’s set up video conferences to monitor your progress with me.”

What the ever-loving fuck? “Say that again.”

“He’s going to monitor your progress via webcam and let me work from home. I’ll let you know when to expect them so you won’t be caught off guard.”

“Mike won’t be here?” I ask

“Not unless he thinks I’m a miserable failure based on what he sees on the video.”

I inhale deeply and ask the question weighing heavy on my mind. “What happens to me after he’s satisfied with my progress?”

“Athena, look at me.” His blue eyes beseech me, and when I look into them, I see the truth I saw long years ago when we first met. He’s not like the others. “I need you to trust me on this. I don’t know the timing and I don’t know exactly when Mike will want you for your next assignment, but for right now, you’re safe.”

“I’m trapped here. That’ s not safe. I can’t leave when I want or go where I want. I can’t even—”

“Do you want to live?”

His question knocks the wind out of me. “Yes.”

“Then I need you to do the hardest thing you’ve ever done. I need you to trust me.”

He may as well have asked for the moon.  That’s just about as likely to happen.

***

I feel even more human after my shower: clean, refreshed, and with a full belly, plus I’m not as achy as I was before. I hurry down the stairs and see that Harris is outside on his back deck. I pour myself a glass of water in the kitchen and join him.

He looks up at my arrival. “Feel better?”

“Much,” I say, taking a seat in the chair beside him. “I did some thinking.”

He doesn’t reply but waits for me to continue.

“I thought about what you said earlier. I’m still not happy about being here, but you’ve never done anything to hurt me, so I’m going to trust you.”

“Thank you, but you don't have to make it sound like a fate worse than death.”

“I’m not. I know death would be worse.” I glance sideways at him. “With you, death is only a possibility, not a certainty. That makes it marginally better.”

He looks at me in shock.

“I’m kidding.” I say. “I think.”

He chuckles to himself. “You’re an amazing woman, did you know that, Athena?”

No one has ever called me that before and I’m momentarily stunned. “No,” I whisper.

“You have a quiet strength about you.”

“I’m not so quiet.”

He ignores my comment. “And you’re a survivor. Look at everything you’ve been through.”

I can’t help the snort that comes out of my mouth. “I’m no such thing. You have to remember, I wasn’t forced into this profession. I choose it.”

“How old were you?”

“Sixteen.”

“Sounds to me like your choice was do it or die. That’s not picking a career path; that’s survival.”

"The only thing I'm surviving is life."

"Life isn't meant to be survived, it's meant to be delighted in."

"Is that what you do?" I asked. "You delight in life? Seriously? Working for Mike?”

A haunted expression crosses his face, and I know no matter what he says, he isn’t always delighting in life. Sometimes, he’s just surviving it as well.

“Then maybe," I say. "Maybe I'm just surviving my bad decisions."

“Athena.”

I slowly turn my head and look into his captivating blue eyes. All earlier signs of playfulness are gone, replaced by an unwavering seriousness, but still somehow underscored by his usual gentleness.

“We call it ‘the past’ for a reason,” he says. “Let it go.”

“It’s not a button you can just press. It’s there. In my head. It’s me.” I run my fingers through my own hair. “I see it when I look in the mirror.  I hear it at night when it’s quiet. I feel it. Always.”

“And it’ll always be there. Our past is part of who we are, but it doesn’t control our future. It doesn’t dictate who we become.”

He’s right, and my head understands, but how did one go about convincing the heart?

“If you’d let me go, I could start over easy,” I say.

He shakes his head. “That’s the thing about pasts: You can’t run from them. You have to accept them as part of you and move on.”

“You act like you you’re talking from experience,” I say. “What could you possibly know about pasts? What deep dark secrets have you accepted?”

A haunted look flickers across his expression. He works for Mike, I tell myself. That in and of itself is dark enough. There’s no telling what he’s been a part of in the last few years.

“There are parts of me so deep and dark, I didn’t visit them for the longest time.” His voice is low and tinged with sadness. “But it was only by visiting them, looking them full in the face and accepting they would never go away, that I was able to move past them.”

His exposed grief at whatever it was he accepted leaves a lump in my throat.

“Hello, my name is Athena and I’m a hooker?” I ask in a halfhearted way to lighten the mood and bring back the teasing. I can’t handle deep and dark right now. I just can’t. I can barely handle my own past, I can’t take on his, too.

His mouth quirks up at the corner. “It’s been known to work.”

“First support group I find for whores, I’ll join, then.” I take a sip of water.

A strong hand stops mine. “Look at me. Stop thinking about yourself as some thing. As some commodity to be bartered and sold. Rented by the hour.” His hand slides up, and he cups my face. “You are a beautiful, strong woman. What’ll it take to make you believe it?”

“I don’t know,” I said, mesmerized by this change, this new, almost raw, Harris.

For several long minutes, we sit still. I am acutely aware of him. His presence almost overwhelms me, and I realize with a shock I’m not flinching at his touch. The fingers on my face are gentle and spark something inside me. I tremble at this new feeling.

“I’m sorry.” He drops his hand, and though he probably thinks I didn’t like his touch, I don’t correct him. It’s much easier that way, to pretend I didn’t like it when in actuality, I wanted more.

“I should probably go get dinner started. You’re welcome to stay out here if you’d like.”

I find it rather lonely without Harris. His backyard is nice and fenced in. I can easily picture a dog running around with Harris playing catch. I hear something from inside the house and I realize Harris is humming.

Fascinated, I go back into the house. He’s in the kitchen making some sort of pasta. When was the last time I heard someone hum? He looks up, catching me watching him, and gives me a wink. I hastily glance away, and then I chide myself for being childish.

To stop myself from doing it again, I take a tour of his living room. Plus, I want to see if I can find out any more information about him. The only personal touch I can find is a set of photos on an end table. They all have the same young girl in them. She looks maybe twelve or so, and the resemblance between her and Harris is striking.

“Is this your daughter?” I ask.

“What?” He pops his head out of the kitchen and sees what’s in my hand. “No, that’s my sister.”

Of course, that makes sense. “Does she live around here?”

A peculiar look of sadness transforms his expression, and I’m sorry I said anything because I really enjoyed his humming.

“She died when she was fourteen.”

“Oh, no. I’m sorry...I didn’t....” It’s one of those awkward conversations I never learned how to handle. I add socially inept to my list of faults.

“No need to apologize. I keep her picture out because it helps me remember.”

I nod. Of course he’d want to remember his sister, but it sounded like there was more to it than just that. “What do the pictures help you remember?”

“Who I am.”

And who are you, Caden Harris? I want to say. The more I get to know, the more I see he has so many layers to him. Seeing him in his house, humming and making dinner, there’s no way I can also see him as Mike’s main henchman. The two aren’t compatible.

And yet, he’s worked for Mike for over two years.

“Why would you forget?” I ask.

It’s not the question he’s expecting. I get the impression he wants to tell me something badly, but instead he shakes his head and smiles. “No time for twenty questions if you want to eat tonight. Pasta’s not going to cook itself.”

He goes back into the kitchen, but I can’t help but notice he’s not humming anymore.

***

My first few days with Harris are easy.  We don’t discuss his sister or my past anymore. Instead, our conversations are light. It’s altogether unsettling how quickly I forget who he is when I’m in his presence. I’m sure he must be keeping in contact with Mike somehow, but he never does so in front of me.

A few days after my arrival, he sheepishly hands me new clothes, assuring me they aren’t the ones from the trunk. I thank him and carry them to my room. I hang them up carefully, stopping only when I get to the green sundress I never went back to pick up.  I decide to wear that one first, and I put it on before heading downstairs.

Harris is working on his laptop in the living room, but he looks up and gives a nod of satisfaction when I enter. “Green does look good on you.”

“How did you know?”

“I had to keep an eye on you.”

I put my hands on my hips. “So you could report back to Mike?”

He stops typing completely and looks up, holding my attention for several long seconds before answering. “To keep you safe.”

It’s the same thing he always says, and I wonder how many times I’ll have to hear it before I believe it. Is there even a number that high?

He’s so easy to believe here in his house, but all I have to do is picture him next to Mike and all my trust in him disappears.

“I want to,” I tell him. “I want so badly to believe you.”

“I know.”

From anyone else, it would have sounded conceited, but it doesn’t when he says it.

“I know because I want as well,” he says.

“What do you want?”

He shakes his head. “I have to get back to work. Did the rest of the clothes fit?”

“I only tried this one on, but I’m sure the others will.” I swallow. “Thank you.”

His focus is already back on his laptop. “You’re welcome.”

It’s not much later when he comes looking for me. I’m in the kitchen, looking through his cabinets, trying to find something to fix for lunch.

“Athena.”

There’s a catch in his voice, and I suspect I’m not going to like what he has to say. My knees wobble, but I force myself to be calm. He’d told me he’d keep me safe, and I’d told him I’d  trust him. This is a test. I have to believe in something, it might as well be him.

“Yes.” My voice doesn’t convey the fear I feel.

“It’s happening sooner than I anticipated. Mike wants to have a video conference tomorrow.”

We hadn’t even discussed what those would encompass, but just the words Mike and video conference have me feeling like I’ve been punched in the gut.

“What exactly will I have to do?” I ask.

He sighs and sinks into a nearby chair at the kitchen table. “It’s up to me, basically. But I know he’ll want to ensure you’re in some sort of subservient role. That you’re obeying. That I handle it when you don’t.”

I grit my teeth. “And you can do that in a video chat?”

“We can do that in a video chat.”

“I’m a good actress.”

“Good will sign your death certificate. You have to be fucking brilliant.”

Chapter Seventeen

I’m being brilliant. I’m being brilliant. I’m being brilliant.

Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself the next day as I stand in front of the bathroom mirror in nothing but skimpy lingerie. Harris has been in a foul mood all day and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s dreading this as much I did. We’ve gone over and over our plan for the call, and each time we run through it, he grows more and more distant.

I slip a sheer nightgown over my head, and I’m ready. Harris waits for me in the living room. He’s still frowning. He hasn’t smiled all day and not even attempted to hum.

The computer is set up beside him, but something’s out of place. That’s when I notice the pictures of his sister are gone. I wonder why, but I’m not about to bring it up. If talking about his sister a few nights ago killed his good mood, I don’t even want to know what talking about her today will do.

Besides, there isn’t time.

“You need to get into position,” he says, and somehow with just those six words, all traces of the man I’ve observed over the last day disappear. What is most surprising, though, is my reaction.

Almost instantaneously, I find myself slipping into the role I played for so many years. The role I donned almost without thought. It feels wrong now, like a shoe that’s too small or perhaps one that almost fits, but rubs the skin in such a way you know there will be blisters left behind. I will not get out of this call unmarked.

I bend my knees in order to kneel beside Harris and happen to glance his way. His eyes are shut in what looks like pain. He will not get out unmarked either.

“Two minutes,” he says, and I nod, unable to speak.

I jump when his hand lightly strokes the back of my neck.

“I wish there was another way,” he whispers.

That’s all he has time to say, and he clears his throat right as the call comes in.

I don’t plan to look at the computer at all. Harris agreed with me yesterday that there shouldn’t be a need. I’m afraid to look at Mike. I’m afraid if I do, everything I feel and think will be reflected in my eyes and it will not do anyone any good for Mike to see the amount of hate within me.

“Harris.”

My stomach threatens to heave at the sound of his voice. Harris moves his foot ever so slightly toward me to where it grazes my knee. I slide my hand to brush the top of his shoe and somehow it’s enough. I know I can get through this.

“Sir,” Harris replies.

“I don’t have long. Give me an update.”

I don’t have long might be the best words ever to be spoken, and I give silent thanks that perhaps this won’t be as bad as I feared.

“It’s going the way we thought it would. She’s a bit taciturn and hesitant, but with the proper incentive, she performs better.”

Performs. It’s a little hint that what we’re doing is an act. That he is still who I glimpsed yesterday and soon this will be over. I just had to play my part.

Be fucking brilliant.

“Where is she now?”

“Kneeling here beside me.”

“Let me see.”

Be fucking brilliant.

“Stand up, slut,” Harris says.

I stand to my feet, keeping my head down.

“Why does she have so many clothes on?” Mike asks.

“So you can watch her do this.” Harris is adjusting the camera to give Mike an eyeful. “Strip.”

I’ve never been naked in front of Harris. When we practiced, he didn’t have me undress completely. I now see that was a mistake. I’m clumsy and uncoordinated.

“Excellent work, Harris. I can see her tremble from here.”

“Thank you, sir. She didn’t do it quickly enough the first time. I had to punish her.”

“How?”

“She didn’t eat last night.”

“Hmm, that’s well and good, but I found with her, something corporal works best.”

“Thank you for the advice. I’ll use that next time.”

I’ve removed the nightgown, and now I’m fumbling with the bra. I don’t want to be naked  in front of Harris and I’m not sure why it bothers me so much.

“Faster,” Harris says in a rough voice. “You have two seconds to get completely nude. As it is now, you don’t get clothes for the next 48 hours.”

“That’s cruel, Harris,” Mike says, but he’s laughing.

“No need for them anyway. It’ll save time when I want to fuck.”

I’m naked now, but still not looking at either man. Be fucking brilliant.

I’m trying.

“Now that is always a sight to behold,” Mike says. “She has a body made to take dick.”

“That she does. I’m so hard, I could bust something wide open.” There’s the sound of unzipping and I freeze. Harris is taking his pants off. This isn’t part of the script.

“I’ll start with her ass. Bend over the arm of the couch, slut.”

I’m really trembling now. What the hell is he doing? and Please don’t fuck me in front of Mike, battle each other in my mind, but I do what I’m told and position myself over the couch.

“I think I’ll take her ass dry as punishment for being slow,” Harris says. “Is that corporal enough?”

“That’ll definitely take care of your need to bust something wide open.”

“True, and she won’t be slow again.”

“She won’t be sitting down, either.”

Harris moves into position behind me, and I’m about to throw up, yell, pass out, or maybe do all three when his foot nudges mines. It doesn’t bring me the same level of comfort as it did earlier.

“I’d like to stay and watch,” Mike says. “If for no other reason then to hear her scream. But I do have to go, so maybe next time.”

“Sounds good. Talk later.”

“Make it hurt,” Mike commands, and then he clicks off.

I hold my breath, half expecting Harris to push his way into me.

There’s a few seconds of silence, and then Harris grumbles, “Mother fucking hell,” and drops a blanket around me. I exhale in pent-up relief, but I’m still shaking as I pull the blanket tightly around me and sit on the couch.

Harris stomps into the kitchen and takes a bottle of what looks like scotch and pours a good amount. He takes two sips and then throws the glass against a far wall.

He bends over with his hands on his knees. “I’m too damn old for this shit.”

I watch in total silence, not wanting to disturb him, or maybe I’m afraid to. It’s yet another side of Harris, and I wonder how many there are and if I’ll ever feel completely comfortable around him.

He finally stands up and gathers two bottles of water from the refrigerator before coming back to the living room and sitting down next to me.

“I’m sorry.” He passes me a water. “I didn’t plan on changing what we’d planned, but he wasn’t buying it. I had to.”

“S’okay,” I say, still waiting for the shaking to stop.

“It’s not. There’s nothing about any of it that’s okay.” He runs a hand through his hair. “And I don’t have damn clue what to do the next time he wants to call.”

I press my lips together. I had plenty of clues. Unfortunately, none of them were remotely appealing. I try to open my water bottle, but I can’t seem to get my fingers to work.

“Are you okay?” He takes the bottle and opens it for me.

I bring the bottle to my lips as I nod and somehow manage to pour it all over my lap.

“You’re shaking like crazy. Are you cold?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“I scared you, didn’t I?”

“A bit,” I admit.

“Scared myself, too.”

I wisely decide not to ask him what that means.

***

I wake up that night around three in the morning. My sleep schedule is all screwed up, and knowing I won’t be able to go back to sleep anytime soon, I tiptoe down the stairs and head outside. I sit in one of the chairs I sat in days earlier when I first arrived at Harris’s house.

He was quiet all throughout dinner, only speaking when I asked him a direct question. After we finished eating, I shoved him out of the kitchen,  promising to clean up everything myself. He stayed away from me for the rest of the evening and I didn’t see him before I went to bed.

The door behind me opens and he steps out.

“Been out here long?” he asks.

“Just a few minutes.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you this afternoon,” he says.

“I know.”

“And yet I did.” He steps forward so he’s in front of me, but not facing me. “And I’ll probably have to do it again.”

“I know.”

“Do you, Athena?”

I stand up and move behind him. Something tells me to touch his shoulder, but I hesitate. This type of touch is like a foreign language to me. I know all about bringing a man pleasure, but next to nothing about how to bring him comfort.

Never going to learn if you don’t practice.

I place my hand on top of his shoulder. He sucks in a breath, and I wonder if he knows how difficult that simple move was for me.

“I gave you my word that I’d trust you,” I say. “You haven’t let me down yet.”

“Give me time.”

“You could have ratted me out to Mike anytime you wanted and you didn’t. Not just today, but lots of other times, too. Well,” I said remembering, “except for that first night with Theo.”

“What first night with Theo?”

“When you told Mike I was late.”

He turns around to face me. “I didn’t tell Mike you were late.”

“You didn’t?”

He shakes his head.

“Then who did?”

“I don’t know. It might have been Theo. I promise it wasn’t me.”

I tilt my head. The moonlight makes his hair look lighter then it really is, and his eyes are more intense than they’ve ever been before.

“Why are you so nice to me?” I ask.

“What?”

“Why are you so nice to me?” I repeat.

His voice drops an octave. “I thought that much was clear.” He cups my face and runs his thumb over my bottom lip. “I want all good things for you. I want you to be safe, doing a job you’re excited about. I want you to never feel like you have to look over your shoulder for fear of who you’ll find there. I want too damn much, Athena, and I’m the worst kind of hypocrite there is because when you stood naked in my living room, I just wanted you period.”

I gasp, and he gives me a sad smile.

He’s been beating himself up over this all day. Because a naked woman stood before him and he wanted her. I could go back to bed and pretend like I never heard him. I’m pretty sure that’s what he wants, and he’ll act like we never had this conversation in the morning.

Or....

I cover his hand with mine. “Caden.”

“Don’t, Athena.”

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do, Harris. I’m damn tired of people telling me what to do.”

And with that, I pull him to me and brush my lips against his.

He’s frozen in place. Either that or he’s told himself he’s not going to respond. I pull away slightly and whisper, “Damn it. Kiss me back.” But again, he doesn’t move. “Please,” I add.

Just when I think he’s going to stay in that same spot forever, he groans and takes me in his arms. His head tilts, and his lips cover mine, and holy hell I had no idea.

This. This is a kiss. This urging of his mouth in time with mine. The way he tastes and takes and gives and licks. I didn’t know so much could be conveyed in a kiss and I almost weep that it’s taken me so long to understand. What had been missing with Isaiah, was present with Harris. I don’t know if it’s because Isaiah was somewhat familiar or if Harris still has that hint of danger.

His hands come up to frame my face and he deepens the kiss.

Never. It’s never been like this with anyone. And I want more and I don’t want it to stop. He takes a step closer and it’s obvious that he wants more and doesn’t want it to stop, either. He runs one of his hands down my side, ghosting my breast, and my body shivers in a new and decadent way. I shouldn’t be feeling like this. Isaiah is a good man, I should be drawn to him, but I’m not. It’s Harris who’s touch is awakening those parts and feelings I long thought dead.

I need to touch more of him, and I slide my hand down his back, enjoying the hardness of his muscles beneath my fingertips. I can tell he is beautiful beneath his clothes, and I almost laugh because whoever heard of a man being beautiful?

I’m desperate to see him. My fingers dip under the hem of his shirt and inch it upward. His skin is hot to my touch. Hot and hard and lean and I’ve never wanted so much before.