“Little fool,” I say, unclasping her bra quickly. I can’t make up my mind about what I want, fast or slow. I wanteverythingall at the same time when it comes to Harper.
With the tips of my fingers, I caress the straps down her shoulders to reveal her to me. We both gasp as the fabric drops from her breasts.
Her breasts have changed. They’ve filled out, either from maturity or motherhood.She’s a mom.God, that still breaks my brain… and at the same time, seems so right.
Even when she was a wild teenager, she was still trying to take care of everybody.
Me. Mom. Z.
Always trying to make sure we were okay. Sacrificing her happiness for ours.
I can’t wait to meet her son,I think to myself.And become a stepfather.Because I will be in their lives. I willnotgive her up twice.
I vow it silently, even as she holds onto my shoulders to lift up and kiss me with another of her hungry, passionate kisses.
No one has ever kissed me like this—before her or since. Like it’s not just a gateway to sex,
but the kiss itselfisthe whole point.
Like she can’t keep her lips away from mine because staying away feels like an impossibility. She needs my kiss as much as every other touch.
I feel the same way.
As my tongue presses back against hers, lighting the whole world on fire, my pants grow tight to the point of discomfort.
When her hands trace down my chest, I don’t catch her wrists to stop them this time.
I think she needs to touch me to make this real, so she knows it’s not a dream, too. She needs therealof our bodies cementing what our minds and hearts have known all day.
The love never died.
Sometimes the animal in us needs to seal through touch what words can only echo.
It’s hungering inside me now too—that need to reclaim.
Her fingers have risen beneath my shirt to toy with the muscles of my abdomen, driving me even crazier.
It’s what she wants, isn’t it? She wants me in a frenzy.
She always did like it best when I was out of my mind for her. I’m happy to oblige and give in. Because with her my mind was always the most free.
So I turn, and, one arm around her back to protect her from the harsh grain of the wood,
I slam her back against my office door. My right hand slaps the wood beside her head, giving into my furious need.
I press my thigh between her legs, which immediately open for me.
Her mouth drops from mine in a deep groan as she starts to move down my throat, finding a throbbing vein and sucking furiously.
It drives me all but feral.
Her hands drop from my abs to my belt, and I pull back just enough to give her space to work, while still caging her in with both my hands against the door.
Harper is here in my arms, and Harper is mine. She always has been, and by God, she always will be. I swear it. I don’t know fucking how, but I’m never letting anything come between us ever again.
I only give her the time to shove down my pants and boxers before I’ve got her up in my arms, her back against the door.
“I always did love you in a skirt,” I growl, spreading her legs and inching my gripping hands up the bottom of her thighs under her knee-length skirt—until I find her underwear, which are apparently just as old as her bra, because the worn out elastic is easily pulled to the side.