Harlow patted his hand, her gaze holding him captive, what should have been a gesture of comfort sending pulses of pleasure along his already-sensitized nerve endings. His entire body vibrated with need.
“I hate what you went through,” she said, “but I love that you understand me.”
“Trust me, baby, I understand.” And he did. He enjoyed sharing his past with her, which surprised him, but he also enjoyed her empathy, touched by how much she actually cared. It was something he wasn’t used to getting from anyone other than Jase and West, but it was something he craved almost as much as her luscious little body.
His fingertip grazed her palm, and she sucked in a breath. “Beck...” Need drenched her voice, reminding him of all the other times she’d whispered his name, breathed it straight into his ear, shouted it. If she scooted closer, or, hell, if she so much as drew in a shaky breath, he would know all the waiting had agonized her, too. He would be on her in a blink—
She scooted closer.
“Harlow.” He swooped in, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, tasting, owning—being owned. His control burned out, and as she clung to him, he rolled her to her back, pinning her down with his weight.
He’d been starved for her and wanted his hands everywhere at once. He cupped her breasts first, kneaded the plump flesh and ghosted his thumbs over the distended peaks of her nipples. “Missed these perfect little beauties.”
Moaning, she raked her nails along his scalp. “Feels so good, Beck.”
He stroked his way to her ass, cupping her there, jerking her against his erection. The friction maddened him. “I’m going to take you hard, baby. It’s been too long.”
“Yes...yes...”
He yanked off her shirt, then his own. A single tug broke the front clasp of her bra. He dived back down for another soul-burning kiss—but the cool air must have roused her from the passionate frenzy because she stiffened.
“Wait. What are we doing?” She rolled away from him, panting. “We can’t have sex. Not yet.”
He swallowed a roar. For a while, only the sound of their breathing could be heard, but as time passed at a crawl, the intense ache between his legs gradually faded.
The one in his chest did not.
He could not resist her, and yet she seemed to have no trouble resisting him. No relationship could survive such an unsteady foundation.
Once again, the future did not look bright.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
DOTTIE CAME KNOCKING on Harlow’s door bright and early the next morning, offering to give her the entire weekend off.
“Why?” she asked, hearing Beck rustle around behind her. As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, the bathroom door closed with a soft snicker.
Something was wrong with him. He’d tossed and turned all night and snapped at her when she’d wished him a good morning. “Well, tomorrow no extra services will be offered so that the staff can attend the Berryween Festival. I’m going as a toddler with a tiara. Basically I’ll be wearing a formal gown and throwing lots of fits. How about you?”
“Oh, uh, I’m not sure I’m going.” And she wouldn’t pout about it. First she hadn’t had the money to waste on a costume, and now it was too late to buy one, everything sold out. “But why give me today off?”
“My way of saying thank you for giving me private time with Daniel.”
“Oh.” Oh! “Did something happen?”
A blush spilled over the girl’s cheeks. “No, nothing like that, but we talked and it was awesome, and he’s still here so I get another chance and I’ve never been so excited.” Dottie threw her arms around Harlow’s neck and hugged her. “Thank you,” she said, and skipped away.
As the shower started up in the bathroom, Harlow’s happy smile faded. Her body ached so badly, had been on fire since Beck had reentered her life, but last night had taken her to a new level of torment. She’d thrown herself at him, thinking to hell with her plan to get to know each other better. He’d kissed her with such hunger, and she’d come close to begging him to take her.
Of course, that’s when her fears had peeked out of the mire, and she’d ruined everything. The sooner she slept with him, the sooner their relationship focused on sex rather than intimacy. Their late-night chats would end. The quiet moments of teasing and learning—the moments she craved with every fiber of her being—would be gone forever.
When he emerged from the bathroom, he wore a white T-shirt and dark ripped jeans. He looked so young and beautiful, a model fresh off the runway.
“I’m happy to report I have the next two days off,” she said, toying with the hem of her shirt.
He ran a towel through his hair, his gaze landing anywhere but on her. “I heard.”
Nervousness mule-kicked her stomach. He hadn’t been this standoffish since they’d called off their breakup. “You’ve been spending more and more time here, helping me clean rooms—” a fact that still thrilled her “—so why don’t we go to your office this morning? You can get caught up and I can finish my sketches.”
Still he didn’t face her. “Good idea.”
“Afterward, I’ll have to go to Brook Lynn and Jessie Kay’s house to finally paint the mural I owe them.”
“Not a problem.”
Short and sweet answers were not his style, and it made her even more nervous. She hesitated for a moment. “Tomorrow is the Berryween Festival. Would you like to... I don’t know...go with me, even though I don’t have a costume?”