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CHAPTER ONE
Harlow
It’s times like these, when a random man lays on top of me flapping about like a salmon, that I really question my life choices. I should just kick him out right now. His clammy flesh is so flush with mine that I can’t even snake a hand in between us to play with my clit. But my mama didn’t raise a quitter. Well, my mama raised no one, but you get the gist. Instead, I push on his shoulder in the universal sign for position change and straddle him when he lays on his back. God, he’s not even that good looking now I’m sobering up. I avoid his eyeline awkwardly. Why did I go home with him again? Oh, yeah. It’s a Tuesday, so slim pickings out of the already small bunch of prospects at the bar I frequent to avoid the Guards.
Why bother trying on a Tuesday if I know this is the standard I get?you might ask. I’m not hideous, I promise. Just kind of desperate. And yes, I know that’s probably worse. Sawyer had a date tonight, and by date, he means a session with a fuck buddy, so I need one too. It’s common sense. There’s nothing more pathetic than having to sit alone in my room, listening to him and whatever random girl he’s chosen for the night having a great time while it’s just me and a toy. I won’t do it. Not so soon, anyway.
Focus, Harlow. Cole? Cain? Colin! Colin looks up at me like he’s having the time of his absolute life, while I try not to sigh dejectedly when I come flush with his lap and there’s a lot less inside of me than I was hoping. You really should be able to check these things out before you commit to bringing guys home. By the time you realize they’re lacking in that department, it’s more effort to kick them out and sort yourself out. I do the best I can when Colin doesn’t even meet my thrusts, changing the angle myself by leaning back and finally getting to my clit.
“You look like a fucking Porno Barbie,” he breathes, clearly in awe, but it pushes the beginnings of an orgasm away. I really wish he wouldn’t speak. I hate that comparison.
Closing my eyes so I can picture someone else, the sounds from next door pick up again at the perfect time, helping me build my release. I try not to focus too hard on who I’m picturing, because now is not the time to be judging myself. I roll my hips, leaning back on one hand so Colin drags against my front wall as I twirl my fingers around my clit, imagining the sounds from next door are being whispered into my ear rather than eavesdropped through a wall, and I’m so close. That is, until Colin gurgles like he’s drowning on his own spit, jerks around like he’s been electrocuted, and pulses into the condom before going limp instantly. Fucking hell. What is my life? He goes to hug me as I roll off him, but I keep rolling, stand up, and throw a T-shirt on.
“I’ve got a really early shift,” I lie, attempting to look apologetic before glancing obviously at the door. I should feel bad, but after that poor performance, I really don’t. I head out of my bedroom and to the bathroom before he can mutter anything. Finally, my luck is turning—he’s out of my bedroom fully dressed and ready to go when I’m finished.
“I had a great time,” he says as we convene in the kitchen by the front door. I smile and nod. Not that I have any issues with lying, but he doesn’t deserve the effort. Sawyer comes out of his room next to mine and heads into the bathroom. Colin goes to kiss me while he thinks I’m distracted, but I step back, opening the door instead.
“See you later,” I say as I shut the door behind him and head to the coffee pot. Caressing it with one hand, I try to decide whether I should get a few hours of sleep in now or start shotting caffeine straight away. As I’m deciding, Sawyer joins me in the kitchen area.
“Jesus, how old was that one, Harlow?” He sounds aggravated considering I just heard him come, but I shrug—because I genuinely don’t know or care—and turn to face my best friend in the world.
If I’m Barbie, Sawyer’s my Ken. Plenty of people have called us that over the years since we met as kids. That’s probably why when we were surly teenagers who got the ick from the opposite sex, we made a pact to never be together. For whatever reason, it hasn’t changed... although he definitely has. Gone is the shy pale-haired choir boy from our childhood.
Sawyer slowly but surely turned into sex on legs. His dirty-blond hair, slightly longer on top, highlights his bright blue eyes, and his solid jaw that’s always dusted with stubble has helped get rid of the “innocent” look. The defined muscles from his job at the gym and natural tan have done the rest. Sawyer is hot, and he’s quickly becoming my go-to fantasy when reality doesn’t cut it, which happens to beall the damn time. I really need to nip that in the bud. He steps forward, hugs me, and presses a gentle kiss to my hair before murmuring, “What are your plans for the day, Angel?”
“I’ve got work at ten.” My reply is muffled, my cheek pressed up against his impressive pecs. “What’s the time?”
“Five. You withNicotoday?” he asks, tickling my ribs lightly. My cheeks heat even though he can’t actually see me, which is embarrassing.
“Shut up.” I am, and I’m already excited enough, which is ridiculous seeing as I see him multiple days a week. I don’t bother to reply any further. “Coffee or sleep, then, I guess.” He chuckles, and my whole body shakes with his laugh, warm in his embrace.
“How about sleep, then coffee? I’ll get rid of...”
Now it’s my turn to chuckle. “Chivalrous as ever, Sawyer.”
“Whatever. I’ll get rid of her, then we can take a nap. Go have a shower. You smell like dick.” With that charming observation, he lets me go and walks back to his room. I wait for hisfriendto use the bathroom before I hog it for a shower—because I’m a great host—but it only earns me a glare as she walks back to his room, so I wish I hadn’t bothered.
I hear the front door shut while I’m scrubbing myself clean, and then the bathroom one opens. I poke my head around the shower curtain and see Sawyer grabbing linens out of the cupboard. He’s turned away from me, and I’m slightly distracted by the way the muscles bunch and contract in his back, his tan skin calling to be touched. I feel a zap of energy through my body that ends up pulsing between my legs. Chastising myself, I dip back behind the curtain before he can catch me ogling him. The pact, Harlow! But I’m not propositioning him, just enjoying the view. How can a woman live with someone who looks like Sawyer and not develop a teeny-tiny crush? Mine has definitely been developing since we moved in together. Plus, I didn’t get to finish—that’s my excuse for acting like a horny teenager.
I finish up in the shower, climb out, and roughly dry my hair before walking back to my room in my towel. When I get there, I notice my bed is made with fresh sheets and the window is open, airing out any lingering Colin smells. Sawyer is seriously the best. I dress in some sweats and a crop top—my favorite lounging outfit—and meet him in the living room, joining him on the overstuffed corner couch. We’ve lived here just over two years now and haven’t changed much, but we recently splurged on this couch, and it’s the best decision we ever made. It sits with its back to the kitchen area that opens up straight from the door. The bathroom is on one side of the large open plan space, and our bedrooms are side by side, opposite the bathroom and laundry. Storage space is an issue, but we make do.
Sawyer lifts the blanket he’s under without breaking his gaze from the TV, and I happily take up the role of little spoon. This is another reason I would never risk the pact. Sawyer makes no indications that he’s interested in me as anything other than a little sister. He looks after me, makes sure I eat, strokes my hair so I sleep—like he’s doing now, to my delight—and he touches me a lot, but never inthatway. It’s intimate, but clearly not sexual for him. And it didn’t used to be for me, but slowly, over the last two years, it’s developed. However, even pressed up against him now, he’s distracted by the TV. As I lay enveloped in him, I promise myself I won’t be taking any more sneaky looks at his muscles or getting off to the sounds of him with another woman. What we have is way too perfect to ruin with my libido.
***
I sleep like the dead, as I always do in Sawyer’s arms, and wake up when he gently shakes me. “Time to get up, Angel.”
Rolling onto my back and stretching out like a cat, I rub at my eyes with my knuckles.
“What time is it?”
“Nine-thirty. I’ll get you some coffee.” He’s already up and walking behind the sofa to the kitchen area by the time I open my eyes, so I sit up to watch him. No, Harlow! Have some restraint. I go into my bedroom and get dressed for work, putting on some soft black jeans and a long-sleeved top, and slide my phone into my pocket. We can wear what we want under our aprons, but black is easy and hides any spills. Sawyer has disappeared when I come back out into the living area, but I spot a steaming thermos of coffee on the counter and practically pounce on it. The few hours of sleep worked wonders, but coffee will always be needed. I take a long sip, ignoring the burn, and moan at the delicious liquid. Spinning round to lean against the counter, I jump slightly when I see Sawyer standing still, watching me with his own coffee in hand, dressed for the day too. Why is he looking at me like that?
“Surely you just burned every taste bud off?” he asks as he blinks a few times, joining me in the kitchen. Oh. I shrug, trying to tamp down the disappointment that his look didn’t mean anything more. Honestly, this crush is getting out of hand. It’s because I have to see him half-naked all of the time and listen to his bedroom activities, that’s all. Hence why I normally go out and get my own one-night stand when he does, but I need some better specimens than Colin if that’s going to carry on working. “Are you ready?”
“Let me brush my teeth.” Once my teeth and hair are brushed, the latter thrown up into a bun, Sawyer is waiting at the door and hands me my thermos back. I grab my keys and wallet off the island on my way past and slide on my Vans, passing Sawyer as he opens the door for me. As he turns his back to me to lock up, I take one last look. I won’t see him for a while now, so why not? Wearing gym shorts, a hoodie, and a backward baseball cap, you could assume why his classes are so popular. It’s not just that, though—he also cares about his clients and is really good at his job. I should know. He tutors me privately for fitness and defense, and I’ve never been stronger.
As we start down the stairs, our landlord is coming up them. We don’t see her often, but she’s lovely and obviously has a soft spot for Sawyer, as most women do. He got the lease to this place on his own when he turned eighteen, so I technically sublet a room from him.
