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“I came back in from seeing Fleur, and someone came up behind me. I thought it was one of you guys, so I let them lead me to a quiet corner. When we got there, I turned around, and a cloth was stuck over my face. I think... I think it was laced with something that knocked me out.”
My fists clench, my blood pumping as anger takes over me. How fucking dare they do that tomygirl. Somehow, I keep it inside, and I think I sound suitably calm when I ask her.
“Did you see who?”
“A guy, but the memory is kind of fuzzy, although he feels familiar,” she adds with a frown.
“Like you know him?”
“No, just some sense of recognition. I can’t remember what he actually looked like yet.”
Yet. I like that she’s confident she can do this—she can remember. I nod tightly, trying to keep a lid on the questions that are burning to come out. I trust she’s told me what she remembers.
“So, that’s it,” she says as she steps back over to me, putting us chest to chest. “And right now, I’m fine, because I’m safe at home with you, and I’d really like to be wearing less clothes.”
She snakes her hands under my top, her fingers trailing over my stomach, and as angry as I am, I can’t deny that her touch feels really damn good. She’s trying to use the physical side of our relationship to gloss over the personal vulnerability she’s just shown. I know this, and I don’t know what makes me a decent boyfriend. Do I go with it, or encourage her to sit with her feelings?
“Harlow,” I start, but she rises up on tiptoes, kissing me gently to silence me.
“I’ll try to communicate better, tell you what I’m thinking, but that means you have to trust me to. So when I sayI’m fine except I’m horny as hell and want you inside me, you need to listen.”
I drop my head back with a groan, feeling myself harden just from her words. “Okay, gorgeous,” I say as I bring my face back to hers, lifting her up by her thighs, and she eagerly jumps into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist. “I can do that. But you’ll let me know?” I don’t even know what I’m referring to specifically—her memory, her feelings, or everything—but she nods anyway. I push away from the counter as I take her mouth with mine, carrying her to the sofa where I lower us so she’s straddling me. “I seem to remember a rain check right here?”
“I was hoping you would.”
Her hands run under my T-shirt, and I shiver at the light touch of her fingertips against my abs. Cupping her face with both hands, I pull her mouth to mine and get lost in my favorite flavor—her.
***
Harlow’s body is slumped over me, both of us trying to catch our breath as our slick skin cools between us when the front door opening has us both sitting up. We turn to see Sawyer walk in, and I watch as recognition flashes across his face before he glares at me as he realizes what just happened. I’m pretty sure it’s not from jealousy, though—more that he thinks Harlow isn’t ready, which is the reason I’m understanding, but I still roll my eyes at his silent judgment. Harlow wriggles my discarded T-shirt on and climbs off my lap to greet Sawyer, who still doesn’t look happy.
“I’m good, I promise,” Harlow tells Sawyer as he lifts her to sit on the counter, stepping between her thighs.
“You promise?”
“I just said that,” she says with a smile, and she does seem it. “You need to trust that I can make the right decisions for me. I know you both worry, but Iaman adult who functions pretty well on her own, you know?” She’s joking, but her words are sincere, and I see the tension bleed from Sawyer’s shoulders as he nods lightly. His demeanor calms as he winds an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him.
“In that case, let’s make up for what I clearly just missed.”
She chuckles, dropping her head back as he presses his lips to her throat. I’ve missed that laugh. Even if there’s a ton of shit she’s hiding underneath it, I can’t deny it’s nice to see her looking a bit more carefree.
A knock on the door has them both jumping, and we all turn to look at it. I straighten my sweatpants and make my way over, opening it as Sawyer turns to hide Harlow sitting on the counter in just a T-shirt from whoever it is.
“Hey,” Nico says grimly, as if he’s been called to his death rather than having turned up here willingly. “Is Harlow here?”
I turn to face her, and she’s coming out from behind Sawyer, T-shirt falling to her thighs.
“Hey,” she says warily, stepping into my side as I go to give them a minute. Guess not.
“Earlier—”
“Sorry,” she says, interrupting him. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
What happened earlier?
“You didn’t do anything,” he insists.
“Either way, it shouldn’t have happened. We’re both taken.”
