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I scoop her up and carry her to her room. She’s getting heavier these days and I know it won’t be much longer before I need to stop carrying her to bed at night. The realization that she’s growing up faster than I thought sends a pang through me and I hug her for a few extra seconds before leaving her room. I watch as her eyes drift shut and her breathing evens out as she drifts off to sleep.
When I go back downstairs, Harlow isn’t in the living room where I left her. Instead, I find her in the kitchen, sipping a glass of red wine. She smiles when she sees me and holds the glass out toward me. I take it from her and sip from it without taking my eyes off hers. She’s wearing one of my t-shirts and a pair of baggy pajama pants with otters on them. Her feet are bare and her hair is loose down her back. She’s never looked more beautiful. I set the glass on the counter and reach for her, pulling her into my arms.
“Alexa playThese Arms of Mine,” I say.
Harlow looks at me in confusion until I take her hands and place them on my shoulders. I wrap my own arms around her waist as the music starts to play through the small speaker on the kitchen counter.
“I realized how much I missed by not asking you to the prom ten years ago,” I say. “I don’t have a corsage, but maybe we can pretend I asked the right girl to the dance. Can I have a do-over?”
I know it’s risky to bring up the prom. Last time I mentioned it while we were dancing, she’d gotten so pissed off she’d left the bar and gone home early. Granted, it had led to me following her home and kissing her until we both came. After our run-in with Hillary earlier and Harlow quietly proclaiming herself my girlfriend, I think maybe it’s safe to mention it. When she leans into me and rests her head on my shoulder, I smile, relieved.
We sway slowly to the song, caught up in the moment. It’s different from the last time we danced. This time there’s only me and her. We’re not surrounded by dozens of people at a bar. Our friends aren’t here to watch us and wonder what’s going on between us or tease us about how long it took us to figure it out. It just feels right.
“This is nice,” she whispers.
“It is.”
“I can almost imagine this is the way prom really went.”
My arms tighten around her. “Let’s pretend it did. Erase the memory of that other prom. That one wasn’t real. This is.”
She leans back to look up at me. “If you’d taken me to prom, would you have been a gentleman?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “I’m appalled that you would ask such a question. I’m always a gentleman.”
She raises one brow. “Except when you’re not.”
The teasing quality to her voice has my dick jumping in my pants. I know she’s talking about when we’re having sex. It’s the only time I’m not a gentleman with her. And I know it drives her wild.
“I thought you liked that side of me?” I tease.
“Oh, I do.” She pulls me down toward her. “In fact, I think I’d like to see that side of you now.”
Her lips meet mine in what starts as a soft, slow kiss. It morphs into something hot and sensual in seconds. Her fingers grip my hair as her tongue tangles with mine. My hands move lower to cup her ass, pulling her against me, letting her feel how hard I am for her.
“I want you,” I say, my lips skimming her jaw.
She reaches for my pants, tugging at the button. “I know.”
The button pops free under her hands and the zipper follows. The song comes to an end, making our ragged breaths sound harsh in the silence that follows. Harlow reaches into my pants and grips my cock, pulling a hiss from me. She knows just how I like to be touched, just how much pressure to use to drive me crazy. She pumps my length, squeezing the head just a little on each upstroke the way I taught her. I reach for the hem of her shirt to push it up, but she steps back just far enough so I can’t. When I shoot her a questioning look, she grins.
“Tonight is about you,” she says, reaching for my cock again.
I must still look confused because she gives me a wicked smile and lowers herself to her knees in front of me.
“Harlow, wait,” I say, groaning as she strokes me harder this time. “You don’t need to.”
She raises one eyebrow in that sexy way I like. “I know. I want to. So, let me.”
I smile down at her. “I thought I was the bossy one?”
“You can still be bossy,” she says in a sweet voice. “Tell me how you want me to suck your cock. Sir.”
Oh, fuck. I’m in trouble.
Hearing her say those words makes my dick grow even harder. It ignites something primal inside me that begs to take control. I’ve been careful with Harlow, not wanting to push beyond her boundaries or mine. The idea scares me a little. I never want to hurt her or do something that makes her afraid of me.
“Hey,” she says softly. “Look at me.”
