Page 61 of Dangerously Kept


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“And here I always thought those scratches on the floor were from the cleaning crew.” A genuine grin takes over her face. I knew she’s somewhat made peace with the fact that this part of her life held such a blatant lie, but knowing she’s able to make a small joke eases some of the tension in my chest.

“These couches are heavy as fuck,” I tease.

“Cece picked them out when she took over after my parents died. I believe her exact words were, ‘This is the most exquisite couch I have ever seen in my life. No other couch can possibly compare.’”

A brief moment of sadness crosses her face at the mention of the loved ones she’s lost, but I catch it before she has a chance to cover it up.

I’m across the room and in front of her in two long strides. Her hands immediately find my waist as I take her face in my hand, softly stroking her freckled cheekbone with my thumb. “I’m sorry we don’t ask you about them more, Mo Grá. It’s clear you miss them. You were so lucky to have three people who loved you like that in your life.”

Unlike Ronan and I, but much like Finn, Harper had two parents who loved her with everything they had and did everything they possibly could to keep her safe. But unlike Finn, she didn’t just lose two parents. She lost three.

“It’s okay,” she answers softly. “Sometimes it’s hard to talk about them. Especially since I remember so little about my parents.” There’s a moment of hesitation, like she wants to say something else but can’t bring herself to.

“What is it?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m a terrible person.”

I can’t help myself. I place a light kiss on her rosy, full lips. “First of all, never in a million years would I think you are a terrible person. You don’t have a terrible bone in your deliciously perfect body.” Her cheeks blush at my praise. “Second of all, I would never judge you. Out of anybody in this world, Ronan, Finn, and I are in no position to wrongly judge someone for their thoughts or actions—me, especially.” Her hold on my waist tightens. “You can always tell me anything.”

“It’s just that, sometimes, actually most of the time, I miss Cece more than I miss my parents. I feel like–like I love her more than I loved them—my own parents. How messed up is that, Mac?” She drops her forehead to my chest.

“Harper, look at me.” Like the good girl she is, she does so without any hesitation. “That does not make you a bad person. Do you understand me?”

Her only answer is the slight nod of her head.

“You were young when your parents died. The memories you made with them aren’t anything you can hold onto. They’re the memories of a child. Cece raised you through the most formidable years of your life. You bonded with her after your parents were taken from you, and that bond is something you’ll never be able to recreate with another person. Your parents raised the child that you were, but Cece helped create the woman that you are. There is nothing wrong with your feelings for her. It doesn’t mean you don’t love your parents, Harper. I don’t doubt for even a moment that your mom and dad would blame you for feeling that way. If anything, they would be so happy to know you had someone who could love you like they did. Your feelings are okay, and they are valid.”

She’s silent for a moment, her big green eyes staring up into mine.“Thank you, Mac.”

“For what?”

“For bringing me here today. For what you just said. For loving me.”

My sweet, sweet girl. “From this life into the next, Mo Grá.”

31

Finn

“I’ll take a large brown sugar and cinnamon macchiato with caramel drizzle, extra hot, please,” I say to the woman at the register.

My phone died shortly before I left Kings, and I couldn’t find the spare charger. My guess is Mac used it, and the little asshole didn’t put it back where it belongs, so I had to take a guess on what she would want. But if I know Harper like I think I do, I’m not worried.

The barista behind the counter is practically slack-jawed as she stares at me. It’s a douchebag thing to say, but I’m used to it. I don’t give her a second glance, though. She’s nothing compared to my girl. “A-anything else, sir?”

I eye the pastry display next to the register. “I’ll take a vanilla bean scone as well.” She’s still staring at me, but now she’s not even moving. “That’ll be all,” I say deadpan.

“Right, sorry!” she says, clearly embarrassed, having been caught staring.

I give her my name, pay, and move to the other end of the counter. As I stand there, I go about the motions, straightening the cuffs of my white shirt under my suit jacket and adjusting my tie so it’s center, but when I go to make sure I don’t have any stray hairs hanging over my forehead, I pause. Because today, it’s not slicked back and perfectly styled. No, my sandy blonde hair looks tousled and unkempt, just the way Harper likes it. I’ve been wearing it more and more this way, and every time I do, her stare burrows into me just a little bit harder. And I crave the way my body lights up when her eyes are on me. So, when I was getting ready this morning and finding myself missing her, I decided to leave the hair products tucked away in my neatly organized drawer.

It’s not that I haven’t seen her at all. The four of us have slept in Harper’s giant new bed every night this week, but the last three days have been an absolute shit show. Ronan, Mac, and I have been catching up on the mountain of bullshit we missed while we were in our self-appointed bubble. With that being said, besides the occasional chaste kiss and “I love you,” I’ve barely touched or spoken to her.

And if all that wasn’t bad enough, I feel like I’m physically ill with the constant desire to be buried inside of her. I planned to steal her away from Ronan first thing Sunday morning, but, like an idiot, I let Mac, Luca, and Sebastian get me absolutely plastered at Kings. I was so hungover I could hardly move. Mac even more so.

Harper and Ronan, of course, thought the entire thing was hilarious.

I’ve had my taste of Harper twice now and still haven’t been able to feel her pussy wrapped around my cock. I haven’t been able to mark her skin with my teeth. To listen to her scream “Daddy” at the top of her lungs. To have her obey my every command and fulfill my every desire.

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