Page 143 of Meant to Be

JOSIE

The smell of coffee and a sizzling sound stirs me from my sleep. My eyes sting with tiredness for a moment as I rub them. Harley and I didn’t get much sleep last night.

Rolling over, I wince at the ache between my legs. I glance down, seeing light bruises dotted over me. Smiling, I trace them with my fingers. Last night was a continuous high of Harley that I don’t ever want to come down from.

Glancing briefly to the vacant side of the bed, I pull myself off the mattress and freshen up. I throw on Harley’s t-shirt and stroll out to the kitchen.

Harley’s muscled back is facing me. He’s dressed in black briefs that sit snugly over his backside. Biting my lip, I grip him tightly before sliding my hands over his stomach.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, his chest vibrating.

Leaving a kiss on his shoulder blade, I rest my cheek against his warm skin.

“You must have been up early. You went to the shops?”

“I got a few things,” he replies, turning and leaning back onto the counter. My eyes slip across his body and back up again.

“It smells amazing.”

“Sit,” he demands. “Relax. You have a big day ahead.”

“I’m happy to help!” I insist.

Shaking his head, he points the spatula towards the seat pulled up to the kitchen island. Nodding, I head over to it and sit down.

“How did you sleep?” Harley asks.

“Like a baby.” I smile softly. “You know, when we eventuallydidsleep.”

Harley sends a smirk over his shoulder.

“I didn’t realise you could cook,” I state, observing the efficiency of his hands as he glides around the kitchen.

A small bowl of fruit sits off to the side and I pluck a grape between my fingers, placing it onto my tongue. Harley saunters over and leans in, sucking it from my mouth. Heat flares inside me and I ache for him all over again. After last night, I’m positive I will never get enough of what that boy can do to me.

I place my hand to the back of his hand when he goes to move away. I lean in with a heated kiss. I taste the coffee on his warm tongue and moan into his mouth.

“I’m going to burn the pancakes,” he murmurs. “But it would be worth it.”

Grinning, I release him. His hair stands up at odd angles and his cheeks are flushed a delicious red. Planting my chin in my palm, I watch him.

“You like cooking?” I ask.

“Love it,” he answers over his shoulder. “My mum was a great cook. She taught me a lot of things. She worked a lot and my father was a useless fuck who did nothing to help around the house. So, she taught me lots of things so that I could always cook dinner for myself when she wasn’t around.”

“Wow,” I murmur.

“I used to spend hours watching cooking shows. If I put my headphones up as high as they could go and lay under my blankets, I couldn’t hear them fighting. So. I watched a lot of shows.”

My heart squeezes in my chest as I imagine a scared little boy, hiding from his father, trying to self-educate himself. It must have been hard learning he had to rely on himself so early on in life.

“You never talked about it much at the time,” I say. “About your dad.”

Harley is quiet for a long moment before he responds. “Yeah. It’s pretty embarrassing. Having a father like that. Everyone knows he’s a drunk. He’s banned from basically everywhere in town. In a place like Fern Grove, everyone knows that kind of thing.”

“You’re not your father.”

“We share the same last name. That’s good enough for everyone to think I’m trash, too.”

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