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I tug at his shirt, but the space is too small for me to free it from his pants. Instead, my palms caress the flex of his hard body beneath his clothing. He responds to my desperation, a low, gruff sound of hunger rumbling in his chest. I revel in the depth of his arousal, in my ability to drive him wild, to drive him further. He palms my ass and squeezes the thick ridge of his erection against my belly when I want him inside me.
His hand slides up and under my skirt, over my thigh and there is something about this man’s touch that can be gentle and rough in the same moment, and it’s fire and ice, and wicked torment. And I like it. “Harper,” he whispers, his lips traveling my jaw, down to my neck, distracting me for a brief moment before his fingers are under my panties, stroking that wet heat that drenches me and now his fingers. I pant with the flick of my clit, and then he’s pressing inside me—one finger, two, his mouth closing over mine, tongue licking my tongue, even as he does wicked things to my body.
I grab his arm, fingers twining in his shirt, sensations rocking my body, and I can’t stop what comes next. His thumb is working just the right spot while his fingers pump all the right places, and I am floating in that beloved place that is as much pain as it is a promise of pleasure. I tumble into a shuddering, quaking, incredible release, and when my body collapses in sated satisfaction, Eric leans in, his lips at my ear. “I’m learning all your little sweet spots. I’ll know all of your secrets.”
Those words are not an accident.
He’s telling me he believes that I am still keeping secrets. And I am, but not the kind he wants to know. Not the kind heneedsto know and I have to be strong enough not to tell him. Because they’re really not my secrets at all. They’re a part of his life he doesn’t even know, but knowing would be nothing but glass raining down on him, cutting him with a thousand broken pieces.
Chapter forty-nine
Harper
I’ll know all of your secrets.
Eric’s words don’t linger in the air and fester in my mind for long at all. He rights my clothes and kisses my temple. “I need to log onto the internet and get an update.”
It’s the kiss on my temple that undoes me. It’s something a man who cares about you does. He cares about me. He came back for me. The only secret I had that was mine, he now knows. The rest, what I’ve held back, and he’s obviously sensing, is history that serves no purpose besides hurting him and eating me alive. Okay, maybe I do have a secret. No, it’s more of a gray area where I didn’t tell him everything, but I didn’t lie. It just wasn’t necessary that he know the rest of the story. And that story matters zero in present day.
Zero.
It serves no purpose but to hurt him, I repeat in my mind, because my guilt could easily make me selfish. My clear conscience would make me feel better but at his expense.
He shifts and the recliner lifts.
A few minutes later, we end up at a half-moon-shaped booth. I slide into the seat and he walks away to grab a briefcase. It’s then that I jolt with realization. “I have nothing with me,” I say as Eric joins me. “And I’m not talking about clothes. My phone and computer and all my work. Eric, anything I’d researched and found they’ll find. Whoever they are—Isaac, I assume.”
“Isaac’s involved,” he confirms, sitting down next to me. “Of that, there’s no doubt, but I’m guessing my father is as well.” He scoots close to me and removes a MacBook from the briefcase. “I left my things in my rental as well. This is Walker equipment. They wanted us to have a way to communicate with them on the ground.” He keys up the screen.
The MacBook beeps with a message and then messages explode with back-to-back beeps. Eric scans the messages and I’m suddenly alarmed. We’re in the air. My mother is on the ground. What if something goes wrong?
“What’s happening?” I ask, scooting closer and trying to see over his shoulder. “Is everyone safe?”
“Yes,” he says, typing a reply before he glances at me. “My father and Isaac showed up at the warehouse and apparently had a blow up in front of the building.”
“Because I’m still alive? Or because your father found out Isaac tried to kill me and went nuts?”
He stops mid-sentence of whatever he’s typing and focuses on me. “Maybe the latter. I don’t know.” He stops there, but his expression says there’s more, it’s ripe in the air.
“What do you and Blake think?”
“Undecided. The Isaac thing could have been meant to get me out of the picture before your attack and I don’t like how that reads.”
“Meaning?”
“They wanted to end you, and they knew I wouldn’t let that happen.”
“So you had to hate me enough to leave and not care anymore.”
“Yes, but they had to worry that if you ended up dead, I’d come back for revenge. Then again, I let them get away with hurting my mother.” He cuts his stare.
“You were a kid and you followed her wishes.”
He narrows his eyes on me. “What are your wishes, Harper? What do you want to happen to the Kingston family?”
It feels like a test, but I don’t even know on what subject. “I don’t want to hurt anybody, but I don’t wantthemto be able to hurt anybody either.”
He rotates to face me fully. “I’m going to do what I promised to do and ask you a question before I assume the answer. I ask. You answer. Don’t hold back. Be one hundred percent honest no matter the consequences.”
