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Cole
Seeing Harbor in town unexpectedly is a shock to my system. Seeing her wearing a leather mini skirt that practically showed her ass, a black leather bikini top with her tits hanging half out, and three-inch stiletto heels with fishnet stockings has me seeing red.
I’ve posed for Layla several times, but I’ve never had that few clothes on. Harbor’s photos are going to be on social media for anyone to see. Or at a bookstore on the front of a book. Even worse, any of the guys could have come outside and drooled all over her. If I had a coat, I’d have thrown it over her and swatted her backside.
After stopping my pickup at the exit of the parking lot, I catch a glimpse of Harbor bending down, shoving something into her bag, and exposing the curve of her ass for the entire world to see. Does she want people to see her like this?
She probably gets proof copies and posts them on her dating app profiles. My hands ball into fists on the steering wheel. Or give them to her dates. The mere thought of her with another man has my blood boiling. It was hard enough to forget her when she wasn’t here. Now, she’s popping up all over the place.
Her hair falls over her cheek as she zips the bag. When she flips it back over her shoulder, the curve of her cheek and the slender column of her neck have never punched me harder in the gut than now.
Jesus. What’s wrong with me? Just because I’ve posed for some romance authors doesn’t mean I’m the hero of a best friend’s sister romcom.
Her gaze meets mine, and she freezes. Seconds later, she’s digging into her bag and dragging a jacket over her sweater as if the mere thought of me ogling her is disgusting.
Shit. My face heats. If I’m drooling, I’m going to hell now rather than face the consequences.
Layla taps on the passenger side window. Where in the fuck did she come from? I press the window button until she’s able to speak.
“Let me know when you change your mind,” she says in a sing-song voice. I cringe. I should have left the window closed. Her voice lowers as she leans into the cabin of my pickup. “I think you could take them if you wanted a shot with Harbor.” She smirks. “I mean a BDSM photo shoot with Harbor, that is.”
Images of Harbor crawling around my bed wearing straps of leather with her nipples and ass barely covered causes me to overheat. Jesus. It’s fucking hot in here. If I wouldn’t look like an idiot, I’d blast the AC. Now I understand why my mom bitches about hot flashes.
Harbor glares and hitches the bag higher. Seriously. It wouldn’t be that bad. I could rock her world. Hell, I’d love to rock her world. But life doesn’t give you what you want. I should know.
She’s living 2 ½ hours away. Barely speaks to me. Is appalled by my inability to stop staring at her. And she’d kick my ass if she knew how often I dream about making her mine. Then, once she was done beating me up, her brothers would get in on the action.
My back muscles tighten. And her parents. If they had any idea how badly I want her, I’d never be able to look them in the eyes again. I should have skipped getting lunch today. Anything would’ve been better than this. “Later, Layla.”
As Kameron’s vehicle approaches the parking lot, Layla turns on her heel and disappears just as fast as Harbor did when she saw me.
Kameron rolls down his window and waits for me to do the same. “Hey, man. What’s up?”
“Headed out to lunch.”
He glances at his watch. “Break started almost 30 minutes ago. What took you so long?” His gaze drifts to Layla and Harbor, and his jaw flexes. “I see what took you so long.”
“Do you know Harbor?” My stomach cramps. Just what I need. A guy who has no roots here and is still trying to find his place in the world. One hook up with Harbor, and he’ll run off to San Francisco when Roman comes back.
“Who?” He taps his fingertips on the steering wheel as if he’s irritated with me about something.
“Harbor?”
“Harbor?” Awareness dawns in his eyes as he rotates his shoulders. “Oh, yeah, I met her the other night at the bar. She was with Layla.” He watches Layla slam the door shut, and realization hits. He has it bad for Layla and thought I was flirting with her.
“I would’ve thought you would’ve noticed her. When you came outside, she was likely standing against the building wearing a red leather skirt and black leather bikini top.”
“Oh…”
We both watch as they drive past. Harbor waves her hands in the air as she yells something at Layla. Right. She wants to do a photo shoot with me about as much as she wants to prep for a colonoscopy.
“What were you and Layla talking about?”
“BDSM.” I wink as the pulse point at his temple thumps. Why be the only one that’s miserable? “She looks all innocent, but she’s a feisty little minx.”
“Cole,” he growls and shifts his pickup into park. “Don’t go there.” Well, that confirms it. He’s definitely obsessed with Little Miss Sunshine. Who would’ve thought it? Not I.
“Dude.” I laugh and shake my head. “She wanted her friend and me to do a photo shoot together but it’s not going to happen.”
