Page 53 of One Wrong Move

For years.

Imagine myself turning the vibrator around, releasing her center from the constant onslaught of a throbbing pulse. She mewls in my mind, and I replace the vibrator with my fingers. Dance them lightly over her swollen clit.

I throw back the covers, and the air feels cool against my heated skin. Using my thumb, I trace light circles on the sensitive underside of my head, right where the vein connects. Mimicking the sensations I want to give Harper.

She’s arching, her eyes drifting shut… her mouth parting slightly. I wish to God the hard flesh my hand would be the soft, wet folds of her pussy instead. She’d say my name. Beg for release.

I grit my teeth and speed up my strokes. The pleasure builds until it’s almost painful, so strong it makes me hiss. My cock glides smoothly through my grip, and then I erupt, shooting across my stomach in spurts that leave me groaning.

Fuck.

I lie in stunned silence, broken only by the pounding of my heart, before I get up and clean up. Fatigue finally settles in my limbs, and I think sleep will come easier now.

But it doesn’t.

I’m left lying in the darkness, body sated but mind racing, wondering who Harper is thinking of while she uses her new vibrator.

I wake up to the blaring sound of my ringing phone. The familiar ringtone cuts through the fog of sleep.

My room is still pitch black.

But a quick glance at the screen of the still-buzzing phone shows the time. It’s an hour later than I normally get up. My assistant is calling, probably wondering where the hell I am. I’ve asked her to call if I ever deviate from the schedule.

I answer, barking out a short I’ll be in soon, and toss the covers off. Hit the controls to open the black-out curtains, and the room starts to fill with light. My shower is done in record time, and I pull on the first pair of slacks and a white button-down I find.

There’s a meeting in thirty minutes I can’t miss. The deal with our Japanese contractor is too crucial, and my brother has been working on it for almost a year. I need to be in the video conferencing room on time.

I’m racing down the stairs. Phone in the pocket of my pants. I’ll need to grab a jacket from the entryway…

… Someone walks out onto the second-floor landing.

I catch a glimpse of wet blonde curls cascading over bare shoulders and a lush towel wrapped around her body.

Harper.

She scrambles back with a shriek. The corner of the towel comes untucked and the edges part. Gravity takes over. Stars collide. I forget how to breathe.

An expanse of rosy, pale skin.

The swells of her tits. Pink, pert nipples.

Soft stomach, the curve of her waistline, and the beginning of her?—

She snatches the towel back up before it falls past her hips. “Nate?!”

My feet are glued to the last tread of the staircase. “Yes. Good morning.”

“Holy shit, you scared me.” Her eyes are wide, hands tight around the towel. “You’re never home at this time!”

“Overslept.” My voice comes out gruffer than I intended, and I run a hand over the back of my neck. Focus, Connovan. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

She shakes her head. I’ve never seen her hair wet before. The curls are thoroughly damp, dark enough to make her appear to be brunette. Her face is flushed. “It’s your house. I shouldn’t have… I don’t usually walk around in a towel.”

“That’s okay,” I say woodenly.

“Yes, well, that was a lie. I usually do. See, I like to go downstairs and put the coffee on after my shower, that way it’s done by the time I’ve gotten dressed.”

“Smart.”

---