She laughed, half of her face covered in her own spit. “Thank you!”
I warmed up the water in my bathroom and wet a small towel. I walked back to Harper, helped her into a sitting position, and cleaned her up.
After she was clean and had her vision back, I pulled her close to me and lay down with her.
She was still breathless, cheeks flushed, and her lips swollen from being used. God, she was perfect like this.
I leaned in, placing my cheek on the top of her head where she lay on my chest, dragging my hand slowly up her bare thigh.
“Do you have any idea how you make me feel, Shortcake?” I murmured, voice low and rough. “Look at you, baby.”
She ducked her head a little, trying to hide the smile that was tugging at her lips, suddenly shy. Not a fucking chance.
I tilted her chin back up with two fingers, making sure she kept those pretty brown eyes on me. “Nope. You don’t get to act sweet and shy now,” I said, smirking. “Not after the way you were begging me to come five minutes ago.”
She let out a shaky breath, and damn if it didn’t go straight to my half-hard cock.
“You’re my good little slut, aren’t you?” I whispered against her jaw.
She nodded, lips parting, but no sound came out.
I kissed her again—slow, deep, lingering—like, I didn’t want to let her out of this bed. Because, truthfully, I didn’t. But I also knew we had things to handle.
I pulled back with a groan, really not wanting to go anywhere. “Come on, Shortcake,” I said, grinning. “Let’s head toyour place before I decide to keep you in here the rest of the damn day.”
“Okay, but first I need to fix my makeup.”
* * *
We pulled into the driveway next to a truck we had never seen before. Normally, on the weekends, Tuck would come out alone and work on a few things. This truck, compared to his disgustingly oversized one, was tiny. I glanced at Harper, who looked both confused and angry.
“Who the fuck is in my house?”
Okay, so not angry. Pissed.
“Seriously, Cam, I’m about to lose my shit.” She said, getting out of my car.
She didn’t wait for me, just headed right into the house.
Shit. I hustled inside after her.
“Who’s in my house? If the plan was to break in, probably should’ve parked down the street.”
“Harper, hold on.”
She stopped in the hallway between the bathroom and the kitchen and glared at me. If looks could kill, I never would’ve been born. Footsteps sounded overhead, grabbing our attention. They were distinctly heading for the stairs. We stood in the hallway together and waited for whoever was up there to come down.
As the person descended the stairs, we both knew who it was from the old cowboy boots. Tucker was wearing his old, faded blue jeans that were stained with splattered paint. He had on a plain, fitted, short-sleeve green plaid shirt that hugged every one of his muscles. She met him at the bottom of the steps with her arms crossed over her chest.
“What are you doin’ here, Sugar? And why are you wearing jeans? You never wear jeans.”
“Don’t Sugar me. I’m mad at you. And because we worked on a car, but that’s beside the point. Is there someone else here? Whose truck is that?”
He approached her and kissed her forehead. He turned towards me and offered a smile and a nod.
“Just me and it’s mine, Harper.”
Harper and I looked at each other, absolutely shocked. “What happened to the monster truck?” I asked with more than a hint of confusion in my voice.
