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“Let’s go to my office,” I say to her, and she nods up at me.
I lock up the cabin and then hitch Harper around the side of my body, tug up her hood, and run the distance over to the cub, quickly mounting the steps and pushing us inside. I drop her gently to the floor and close the door behind us.
When I turn around I’m met with her reaching her arms around my neck, standing on her tiptoes so that she can get another kiss.
I give it to her, a little harder, a little faster, walking her backwards until her ass is up against the side of my desk, and then shoving my jacket from her shoulders to reveal a skimpy tank top beneath. I pull away to get a look at her. Under the little top I see her push-up bra, her soft perky tits all but spilling out of it.
I stumble backwards and grunt, running one hand through my hair and using the other to grip the thickening happening at the front of my cargos.
“Jesus,” I curse, breathing heavy and turning around. “If we need to talk, maybe you should put the jacket back on for now.”
I’m not so arrogant as to think that I can actually multitask. Maybe some men can concentrate on a conversation whilst they’ve got a pair of perfect tits a couple inches away from their mouth, but I am one-hundred percent not that kind of man. My brain is already turning into a pile of smoking ash. If I get one more look at what Harper’s got for me, our five date rule is about to get annihilated, repeatedly, over a desk full of paperwork.
I hear the scrape of the jacket zipper, give her an extra second just in case, and then I turn back around, my head spinning from my sudden tumult of testosterone.
“Sorry,” I rasp.
She shakes her head as if to say that it’s okay and I move around the desk so that I can heave myself down into my seat. I run both of my hands through my hair, giving it a rough tug to try and refocus on our conversation. I briefly consider jamming a pen lid into the side of my quad again.
“Sit wherever you want,” I say to her when I realise that she still hasn’t moved from her position at the side of the desk. I gesture vaguely to the chair facing mine on the opposite side of the desk, then to the tabletop, and then, after a moment, I spread my thighs wider and give her a look that tells her, if she wants to, she can sit in my lap.
She takes a step towards me and I swipe my tongue over my bottom lip. Christ. She’s actually going to sit on my lap. May as well have kept the jacket off, because I’m pretty certain where this is going to go.
But instead of putting a bookmark in our conversation and straddling me until I can’t take it anymore she turns around and lightly perches her beautiful behind between my thighs, steepling her fingers on her knees and dropping her head down as if she’s feeling shy. I shift forwards so that my front’s up against her back and I tug at the neckline of her jacket so that there’s just enough room for me to rest my chin above her collarbone. She shudders when my stubble stabs into her skin and I entwine our fingers in her lap, waiting for her to tell me what’s on her mind.
“So my mom rang me,” she begins, a slight tremble in her voice.
I’m not liking that at all. The only times that I’ve ever seen her acting like this was when she was talking about a certain piece of shit that I haven’t yet gotten around to finding the home address of.
I hold my tongue, waiting for her to continue.
“At first we were talking about the upcoming press release week, the promo tour we’re doing, and I told her that I didn’t feel comfortable going because of the Evan thing. And then, because I’d already mentioned him, she used that as her cue to tell me some news from home, and she told me that… that…”
I lean around her and watch as a big warm teardrop trickles over the curve of her cheek. It plops right down onto her bare thigh. Horrified, I keep both of her hands in one of my palms and I move the other so that I’m caressing her exposed leg, rubbing my thumb over the tear until all traces of it have disappeared.
Her voice drops to a whisper, her eyes scrunched shut and tears running silently down her cheeks. “She told me that Evan and my sister Holly broke up. Which means that it wasn’t even a real relationship in the first place. Which means that my fiancé broke up with me for literally just a fling. But then, on top of that, because only my family and the crew knew about the break up in the first place, because it hadn’t reached the press yet, apparently he’s still wearing his engagement ring. As if we’re still together or something, which then puts this weird pressure on me, especially with the movie coming out, to act as if everything’s fine. My mom made me check my emails and there were literally hundreds from the crew, and super urgent ones from the board at the production house. They don’t want their leading hero looking like an asshole ahead of the release, so they want me to–”
I keep my voice deadly calm. “If you tell me that they want you to get back together with him, or even to pretend to be with him, I’m going to lose my mind.”
She turns around to face me, her eyes the brightest that they’ve ever been, flushed with her tears.
“I’m obviously not going to do that – but I do have to go to the final stop of the press tour. I’m going to have to see him again if I want to save face, to stay in the company’s good books.”
I try to unclench the steel screws in my jaw. “I’m going with you,” I tell her.
She shakes her head. “I’d never ask you to do that for me.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” I say. “Which is exactly why I’m saying it. I’m saying it for you, so you don’t have to.”
She leans up to me and I instantly swoop down to take her lips with mine. She moans the second that my mouth presses against hers and I kiss her in a wild frenzy – pissed off at her colleagues, fucking furious with her ex, and most of all damn determined to remind her that I’m here for her, I’m right for her, and I’ll pledge to take care of her for as long as she’ll let me.
I move my hands to unzip the jacket and she arches back against me as soon as I have her uncovered. My hands move immediately to her tits, kneading them in fast frantic circles.
“Mitch,” she whispers, and I start kissing at her cheeks. She tastes like salt from her tears. Her tears about her ex fiancé. And that makes me so damn angry that I have to remove my hands from her for a moment and sit back in my chair, staring unseeingly at the wall to my left and counting slowly to ten.
Then she decides to punch in another blow.
“There’s more,” she says quietly.
