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The rules went out the window the second she said she’d come.
“I had rules too. With my own reasons for them. Wade, when I go back to work, it’s not like—poof—suddenly everything’s going to be different and magical, and I’m going to have room in my life for the things I didn’t before. This trip is anescapefrom my reality. Temporarily. But my priorities haven’t changed.”
Jesus. How did I not see this?
I may have broken mine, but Harlow has stuck to her rules from the start.
What happened between us was her taking a break from her life, giving in to some fun. The kind she never lets herself have because it doesn’t align with her goals. She’s a dedicated workaholic and she likes it that way.
Except that shedoesn’t.
Not really.
What did she say to me? That being herself was exhausting.
I’ve never once heard her say how much she loves her job. How satisfying it is to work fifteen-hour days seven days a week. How graduating high school two years early and finishing college in three gave her a sense of fulfillment like she’d never known. How the trade-off of everything she’s sacrificed in her life is so totally worth it.
And whatever it is that happened back at the bank the day we met at the club—she’d been devastated by it. But that’s what she’s telling me she wants to go back to.
A life where she never says yes. Where she doesn’t smile or laugh. Where the guys she dates care more about her old man than they do her.
That’s—that’s a fucking travesty.
It’s not my place to tell her how to run her life or what her priorities are. Who the fuck am I to tell her anything?
But maybe… it doesn’t have to be over just yet.
Maybe we can have this week. Maybe if I back off some, ask for less, she’ll keep letting me be the fun she so desperately needs for a few more days.
And maybe it will be enough for Harlow to see that, even if she doesn’t want me, she wants more from her life than she’s been letting herself have.
“Fine, your priorities haven’t changed. But your escape isn’t over. We’ve got the rest of the week. Why start saying ‘no’ to the good times we could have when there’s still time to say ‘yes’?”
Her shoulders fall. “Because it can’t last.”
It could. If she’d let it.
“So what if it doesn’t?” I shrug like it’s no big deal, like there’s nothing to lose. I’m a damn liar. “We’ll have this week.”
I take a step closer, let my eyes rake over her body. “I’ll have more of how wet you get for me, how hard you come, and the way you look at me when I’m buried deep and hard inside you. You’ll have more of what none of those fuckingsuitscould give you.”
Her eyes are wide, her breath pulling in slowly.
“You know what I keep thinking about?” I should stop. Shut the hell up. But instead, I take another step into that charged space between us, leaving barely an inch for the air to crackle. “What you’ll taste like if we have another chance. Your fingers in my hair as I give you my mouth. Your knees shaking at my shoulders as you come on my tongue.”
I can’t stop thinking about how limp she goes after I make her scream and how good it feels when I pull her over me and our hearts slow together. That minute when it feels like she’s mine. “You know it’s good.”
Her teeth catch the full swell of her bottom lip, and she peers up at me through the thick fringe of lashes.
I wait for the words I don’t want to hear. That I need to get over myself and there won’t be any repeats of Saturday.
Her hands come up, and I brace for a shove back into my own space if I’m lucky, a slap for running my mouth if I’m not. She makes a fist… and a hot second later my brain registers that it’s in my shirt,and she’s not pushing me away.
* * *
Harlow
I’m crazy.That’s the only explanation for why I’ve got my hands in Wade’s shirt and my body pressed against his as I open beneath the crush of his kiss. Why I’m moaning around the possessive thrust of his tongue and melting into the strength of his hold.
