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I grin and press my pelvis into hers.“Does this feel like a seventy-year-old man?”
She rolls her eyes.“I don’t want to envision an old wrinkly penis, Kent.”
“Till death do us part, Siren,” I say, setting her on the dresser so I can look her in the eye. I plan to start here, then move to my bed. I have a goal to make love on all the surfaces of my apartment so that everywhere I look, I will see a memory of Harper in that very spot.
“That only applies to married couples, and I’m never getting married,” she grunts as she reaches out and runs her fingers along my jawline. Who knew a simple touch could be so relaxing?
Her words, however, irk me. My molars grind together, and I choose not to respond to her comment.“Why are you so sad about being the greatest of all time?” I ask, then lean in and kiss her neck. Mmm, the scent of her perfume—it's not some floral concoction that smells overpowering; it's just clean and fresh.
“What?” She says as her legs slacken from around my waist.
“G.o.a.t. It means greatest of all time,” I clarify, nibbling at the spot where her neck curves into her shoulder.
“What?” She pulls away.
“Goat. That’s what you meant. You're the greatest woman of all time,” I reassure her.
Her blue eyes look down, then lower. I know she can see the outline of my arousal. She smirks.“Sometimes I wonder if your last two neurons have stopped functioning. Goat means I’m the scapegoat.”
Huh? I stop kissing her, now thoroughly confused.
“Since no one believes a word you say, I can tell you the truth. We have a mole. Your uncle has handed off the real research to another team, and now I'm just working as a decoy to catch the mole.”
“What?”
She rolls her eyes.“I'll give you a minute to catch up,” she says, her hands beginning to massage my shoulders.
“Uncle Dan’s team has a mole?”
She nods. Then she tells me about how Andrew texted Julian while he was at dinner with Poppy.
I swallow, my hands locking onto her hips.“Are they safe?”
She nods.“But I have no idea who this other team is. Dan insists I stay out of it. On our end, we are still running the investigation, but he and I are planting false leads to catch the mole.” She admits as her shoulders slump.
“How does that make you the scapegoat, though?”
“Because I’m going to take all the blame for failing my best friend. I’m not going to be the one to save her. Someone else is.”
I’m not going to tell her that a part of me is relieved she isn’t working this case. Andrew and his father have no limits, and I don’t want my woman tangled in that mess.
“You don’t always have to be the hero, Siren,” I tell her.
“Yes, I do.”
“Sometimes it’s OK to be the sidekick, other times the cheerleader,” I lean in and kiss her.“I think you’d look great cheering on the sidelines,” I whisper over her lips, then delve deeper, not wanting her to respond but just to feel.
She begins to moan, her breath growing hard and labored, just like my cock. When she swirls her tongue around mine, I know I’m done. I’d bend down and worship her at her feet if she promised to kiss me like this every day.
This is coming from a guy who doesn’t like to kiss. In the past, I liked to get straight to the point. Not with Harper, though. It’s the foreplay that drives me feral. It’s the tit for tat, the sexy lingerie she wears while walking around my house.
One day, she strutted around while getting dressed in red lace panties. I had an aneurysm when she bent over to get dressed, and I noticed they were crotchless.Literally, the woman is trying to kill me and my cock!I took her three times before I let her walk out the door.
Now, I want to bend her over every day just to see what she’s wearing underneath her work clothes.
With Harper, it's not just about the release—it's about the anticipation, the slow burn. Every kiss, every touch, every teasing glance she throws my way is intoxicating. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and I can't get enough.
“Kent,” she mewls, her hand sliding down my jawline to my trousers, just teasing the zipper.
