Page 75 of Tanner

I bite her neck and slap her ass. We grab our coats and cram into a taxi. Willa is in the middle with Ryan on one side. I slide in on the other side of the car and Harper settles on my lap.

When we pull out, Ryan speaks up again from his spot by the opposite door, “So, Harper, have you ever been to San Francisco?”

I don’t know if he’s making conversation or still digging.

“I’ve never been to California. My parents made us go to Florida every year. It’s a New York thing, I guess. Flights are cheap,” she says.

“What part of the city did you grow up in?” Ryan asks.

“Douglaston. It’s the furthest part east you can go. It’s practically in Long Island.”

“Is that like Jamaica and Corona?” Ryan wants to know.

Chris chimes in from the front seat, “Douglaston’s nice. I went to a party out there last year. It’s all country club and super Irish.”

Harper laughs. “Yeah. We don’t belong to the country club, but it’s a really nice area.”

“Where did you go to high school? I wonder if we were rivals.” Willa perks up.

“Saint Francis Prep.”

“I didn’t realize you were a private school girl. Did you wear the uniforms and everything?” I ask, loving the vision of Harper in a schoolgirl skirt.

“Tall socks and all.” She grins, pulling me closer to her. “I still have my old uniform. Maybe I’ll put it on for you tonight.”

“Harper and I are going to skip out on the club,” I say, playfully pulling her toward me to kiss her lips.

“Get a room,” they all chant.

Once we’re at the club, we wait in a short line and grab drinks. We can’t hear each other well, so we stand around and people-watch, leaning in close when we do want to say something. The DJ plays “Him and I” by G-Eazy and Halsey. The beat thumps through the bass, and my shoulders start to move.

I grab Harper’s waist and don’t even wait for her permission as I lead her toward the dance floor. I take her hand and run it around my neck, and I put her other over my heart. My hands are on her hip and cheek, and my entire body sways and grinds into her.

As soon as the male rap portion starts, my mouth is moving with every line, singing them to my girl. She laughs out loud, her head leaning back with the motion. I run my tongue up her neck.

When her eyes return to mine, they’re hooded, heated, and she’s no longer laughing. Her hips roll from side to side as her hand runs down my side. When the chorus comes on, she sings along with Halsey, mouthing the lyrics like she means every single word.

She sings about forever truth, our crazy love, and this relationship that is me and her till the end.

My fingers lace in her hair, and I bring her closer, mouthing the words into her lips.

Her hands travel lower, pulling my hips into her. I wish like hell we were home and not on a crowded dance floor.

We go back and forth, singing for each other, touching one another, putting on a show for hundreds of people, who are probably so into themselves that they’re not noticing the two people falling into this moment in the middle of the dance floor.

The song.

The lyrics.

Her touch.

My fucking soul.

I don’t know what Harper is doing to me, but I do know I never want it to stop.

The next song comes on, and the beat slows down. Her tongue sweeps against mine, and I’m done for. I run my hands up her waist as my breathing turns heavy. As I sway her hips from side to side, my cock twitches at the way she lets me take control of her movements.

Lifting her hands up, she wraps them around my neck, running her fingers up the shaved portion of my head until she gets to where I have my hair pulled back. She tugs lightly, causing a rush of excitement to race down my spine.