Page 65 of If You Were Mine
“You are one of the most stubborn people that I know, and that’s including myself, we can figure this out.”
I threw my head back and laughed, because indeed, we both were stubborn as hell. Then I leaned down and slid my lips over hers. “Let’s go head to the clubs.”
“Thankfully I’m old enough to get in now.”
I let my head fall back and groaned. “Please don’t remind me that you’re that much younger.”
“Only like eight years. I’m twenty-three. I’m an old maid.”
“If you call yourself old one more time, I’m going to toss you over my lap and spank you.”
Her eyes darkened. “Well, I guess I’m old, old, old, old.” She laughed as I chased her through my living room, tossed her over my shoulder—ignored the pain in my side—and carried her to the bedroom.
We might be a little late to the club.
It was still early yet, since I was just meeting with my managers, my staff, and getting the feel of things, but honestly it was like I had never left.
The first two clubs we had visited were my newer ones, and everything had worked out well. I liked creating high-end clubs for people who wanted to dress up, have quality drinks, and occasionally toss around money to show off. You didn’t need a Chanel bag or Louis Vuitton when you walked inside, but those with their Cartier’s and Hugo Boss tended to puff up like peacocks when around each other.
“I’m glad that I borrowed this from Blakely, because I don’t own anything that would fit into any of these clubs,” she teased. I slid my hand over her cashmere crop top.
“Are you telling me that I stripped this shirt off of you earlier and it’s my sister-in-law’s?” I asked, grimacing.
“No this was a gift. Don’t worry, I promise you that your brother never fucked your sister-in-law in this outfit.”
I nearly tripped over my own feet, holding back a laugh as others gave me a look.
Everywhere we went, Harper had blown everyone over. They’d practically fallen at her feet, wanting to make sure she was taken care of. Maybe I was one of those peacock guys who wanted to puff out their chest. And whenever somebody gave her a second look, wanting a little more, I couldn’t help but stake my claim. Maybe it was a hand around the hip, my palm at the back of her neck. But every single fucking person I introduced her to knew she was mine.
I might be an old creep in his thirties when she was in her twenties, but I didn’t fucking care. We were both adults, and we were both making our own decisions.
And I couldn’t wait to taste her pussy as soon as we got back to the house.
“There you are.”
I looked up quickly as my brother Theo strolled over, his hair disheveled, his beard longer than usual.
Theo usually wavered between looking completely clean cut, or as if he hadn’t slept for days. It had to be a back-of-house chef thing, but the man never touched drugs, didn’t really drink, and yet still sometimes looked like he was out on a bender.
That was just Theo.
“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” I said, but then nearly tripped as I was shoved away.
“Harper. My favorite.” Theo pulled Harper into a hug, then picked her up and twirled her around.
“It’s so good to see you!” Harper said with a laugh.
I narrowed my gaze. “If you could stop trying to break her that would be great.”
“What? It’s just Harper. I’ve missed my girl.” He smacked a loud kiss on her cheek, and I hadn’t even realized I had taken a step forward until my brother raised a brow.
“Well, well, well. It seems the rumors are true.”
“You’re a menace,” Harper teased.
Theo just beamed. “I am. But I had to make sure that my big brother was doing okay. And ensure that the rumor of him kidnapping you was not too untoward.”
“I was a willing victim don’t worry,” she teased.
