I gawked at him. Had we? Had I? Sure, I’d checked him out a couple of times, but had I been flirting? It was just so nice to actually talk to someone that I hadn’t stopped to think about how that interest might have come across. “I uh… I can’t.”
Another long, assessing look. The feeling that he was seeing too much.
“You’re with someone?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Most things are,” he said quickly, echoing my words from the bar.
“Besides… I don’t think this…” I gestured between us. “Would work.”
“Why’s that?”
“I think we might have the same…preferences.”
“Preferences.” Despite nodding, his expression told me he was waiting for me to elaborate on that.
I grunted my frustration. “I’m a bottom, okay?”
Lips parted, and there was a flash of those perfect teeth before he forced the amusement back down. “And you assume I only bottom as well?”
Oh. “Oh.”
“It’s rude to stereotype, Doctor Bar Man. Don’t they teach you that in bar medical school?” His voice was playful.
“I uh… I shouldn’t have assumed. I’m sorry.”
“Pfft, don’t be. You’re not exactly wrong. I do like being the one with a cock up my ass. But what I do could hardly be classed as ‘bottoming.’”
Well fuck if that thought didn’t make my head spin, and if it wasn’t for the guilt that churned my insides at just the thought of finding out everything that entailed…
Harper huffed. “Good night, Bar Man.” He stepped forward and leaned up to place a soft kiss on my cheek. “It was really nice talking to you.”
“It’s… Jack, actually.” For the first time in a long time, I wished I could give someone my real name.
He smiled sweetly at me in response. “Good night, Jack,” he said before taking a step back and sauntering down the hall to his own door. I watched, somewhat stupefied, as he waved goodbye and disappeared into his room, closing the door behind him.
Well. That had been interesting.
Since the night I’d returned to find my door unlocked, I’d been extra vigilant in ensuring things were exactly as I’d left them. It hadn’t happened again, and I was beginning to think I really had just forgotten to lock it somehow that day.
When I was satisfied nothing was out of place, I showered off the day and any lingering thoughts of Harper. I was interested in him, that was undeniable, but I was interested in him the same way I had been in Becca. As a friend.
It was annoying.
I was on the run, but I wasn’t moving on. Part of me remained in the place that I’d fled, in hands that had once held me. Even if they were long cold now,hestill held part of me. A part that would only ever belong to him.
When I collapsed into bed, I pulled out my phone to begin my nightly routine—looking up any news about Port Skelton, checking his social media. Everything was as it always was.
After that, I searched the name Harper Lorens.
I’m not sure what made me do it. I guess I just wanted proof that he was telling me the truth. I wanted to believe him about everything he’d told me.
Turns out I really should have heard of Harper Lorens. Literal fuckingbillionaireheir to Lorens Industries. Rich didn’t even begin to cover it. Everything he’d told me was true. His pretty face was splashed over article after article, so many focused on his relationship with former MMA fighter Benny Forrester. There were photos of them together, articles that pried deep into their personal business. I couldn’t think of anything worse. There was nothing covering Benny’s true nature, though. No pictures of Harper’s bruises… hisabuse.
It was odd for me to feel protective of someone, to care about anyone but myself. Maybe it was because we were both on the run, something big and scary chasing after us in the name of love. Whether it was real or imagined, he was like me, and just knowing that made me feel less alone.
Alone was safe, though. I had to remind myself of that.
