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“You already have a job. I talked to Grayson about it. Put the card in your pocket.”
“You don’t think it’s weird for me to work for you.”
“You’ll work for Grayson, not me.”
My new cellphone buzzes on the table and I frown. “I thought this wasn’t connected to my old phone?”
“It’s not,” Eric says. “Check it.”
I pick it and read the messages:This is Blake. Put this number in your phone. Eric’s father called your phone. Check your messages.
My heart skips a beat. This can’t be good. “It’s Blake,” I say, glancing at Eric. “And he said I have messages and should check them. I glance down quickly and dial in my phone number, to get to my mailbox, but my mind races. His father is such a bastard. He really is trying to trigger Eric. He’s cruel and evil. I consider not telling him what’s going on, and I decide that’s wrong. We’ve had too many secrets between us.
“You need to read the message from Blake, Eric.” I offer him my phone.
His expression darkens and he takes it from me, scans the message and then hands it back to me. “Play it.”
“Eric.”
“Play it, Harper. Yes, I know this is all about fucking with my head. It won’t work. Play it.”
I nod and punch in my retrieval code and then hit the speaker button. His father’s voice fills the line:Listen to me, Harper. I’m here in the city for you. If anything happens to you, your mother will never forgive me and I love her too much to see her suffer you as a loss. Eric is not a good person. He’s dangerous and anything you think you know about what’s going on, you don’t. Come to my hotel. The Ritz, room 1101. Find a way. I’ll be here for twenty-four hours. Come sooner than later. I worry for you every moment you’re with him.The call goes dead and my eyes are locked on Eric’s impassive expression but a moment, a fleeting second, I see a stab of pain in his eye, before they turn to ice, a bitter winter ice.
Chapter sixty-nine
Harper
Idon’t speak, I don’t even think about opening my mouth.
I hold my breath, waiting on Eric’s reaction, and it’s in silence that I can feel the vibrato of his anger, and while it’s soundless, it screams in my head.
His eyes, blue ice and steel, fix on me. “What do you want to say to me?” he asks.
“That was the act of a desperate man. He’s afraid of you. He’s seen the tide shift. Now he’s the bastard, and you are the king.”
He doesn’t reply. He simply stares at me. Seconds tick by and I look down at his watch—black leather, a black face, red hands—and I can almost hear the tick before my gaze lifts to Eric’s again. He pushes to his feet and steps in front of me and I answer his silent request. I’m on my feet instantly.
We stand there, inches separating us, him towering over me, close, so very close, but he doesn’t touch me and I burn for that connection. I have this sense that there’s a question between us, and while I don’t know what it is, I know his father willed it into existence. I press my hand to his chest, and breathe out with the heat of his body beneath my palm. I want to tell him I love him, and I think he needs to hear it, but there’s one reason I don’t. “I’d like to say something to you right now, but I won’t let him have the moment or be a part of it.”
Another second, or maybe it’s three, pass us by and then finally he’s touching me, his hand on the back of my head, his mouth crashing over mine; punishing me with his bittersweet, brutal kiss, laced with ten layers of emotions. And I know then that no matter how much he doesn’t want his father’s actions to hurt, the pain is a wild river running far and wide.
Desperate to drive away his pain, I don’t just kiss him, I devour him, my hands sliding all over his body and in a haze of lust, we tug at each other’s clothes. I end up against the wall, him pressing inside me, and in some far part of my mind, I can hear my gasp and pant. He lifts me off the ground, my legs wrapping his waist, and he thrusts into me. I lose myself in the wildness of it all, in the thick pump of his cock inside me, the ravenous way his gaze rakes over my naked breasts.
He devours me in every possible way, but he isn’t alone. I’m right there with him, living the moment, feeling the passion. My hands cling to his arms.
Thrust.
Pump.
Fuck.
If we were making love earlier, we’re fucking now, and it’s what we both need.
It’s wild, hard, and fast, and it’s not long before my sex is spasming around his thick cock and he’s quaking as he fills me, that condom he claimed we needed nowhere to be found. When it’s over, he buries his face in my neck and holds me for long seconds, still standing, still holding me, perhaps a little too hard. Whatever demons he was trying to drive away are still alive and well and in this room with us.
Eric lifts me off the wall and walks us to the bathroom, sitting me on the sink and handing me a towel before he pulls out. He literally presses the towel between my legs and my cheeks heat. “We didn’t use a condom.”
“No, we did not.” He strokes hair behind my ear. “Motivation to fix this so we don’t end up with a kid destroyed by a fucked-up family.” He steps away from me and walks to the other room.
