“Do you need more food? Something to drink?”
“God, what I wouldn’t give for a Goddamn beer,” she breathes out, flopping back in the couch.
“I think there was a complimentary bottle of wine on the counter.”
She perks up. “Yeah?”
I nod. “It’s not chilled or anything, but?—”
“I don’t care. Pour me a glass. Or better yet, hand me the bottle.”
I laugh and get up, walking over to the kitchen counter and grabbing the bottle and two glasses, not sure if she’s serious about drinking from the bottle.
But when I get back, she pulls off the little twist top and, indeed, upends the bottle at her lips, her delicate throat working as she takes swallow after swallow.
I readjust myself and pull a pillow over my lap against the stiffening in my pants. Goddamn it, she’s sexy.
I work at a sex club and never fight hard-ons, but watching Harper down wine from the bottle?
I look away and stare at the carpet. Jesus Christ. Her son isliterallydown the hall.
“I called my friend in personal security,” I say, if only to distract myself. “He’s sending a security detail down from Dallas. They’ll be here by midnight to stand guard outside the house.”
That surprises Harper enough to stop drinking, upending the bottle so dramatically that some wine drips down her chin.
Without thinking about it, my thumb reaches out to swipe up the liquid before it lands on her light blue top.
And maybe she’s not thinking about it much either when her tongue swipes out to lick at my thumb.
We both freeze at the action, eyes locking. My breath completely stalls out. Harper’s green eyes suddenly darken.
“Fuck,” she whispers. “Caleb. I want to climb you.”
Well, there goes the battle against my hard-on.
I swallow hard. “Harper?—”
She shoots to her feet, turning her back to me. “I’m sorry. Fuck.” Her hands go back to scrubbing down her face. “I’m a disaster right now. I’m going to bed.”
She starts toward the hallway where her and Bruiser’s rooms branch off from.
“Harper—”
She pauses and turns to look at me. Fuck, she’s so beautiful, whatever I was going to say dies on my lips.
WhatwasI going to say?
We should talk?
I’ve missed you?
Yes, God please, oh God, give in and climb me?
I shake my head. She’s probably in as much shock as her son is. She’s vulnerable and I shouldn’t take advantage of a woman when she’s?—
“Goodnight, Caleb,” she says succinctly and turns away again, swiftly walking back down the hall toward the bedroom next door to her son’s.
I breathe out hard and scrub a hand down my own face.