Page 35 of Her Christmas Harem

A warm hand caught my elbow. “Easy there,” a masculine voice murmured, steadying me as I caught my balance.

Clear blue eyes gazed at me, bright as a summer’s day. Now, in addition to tall, dark, and handsome, I had tall, blond, and beautiful.

“You okay?” he asked. I could smell his cologne, leather and citrus, as he ran his thumb over the sensitive skin of my arm, sending electric sparks tingling down my spine.

“I’ll be okay.” I stepped back, needing a moment to breathe, to escape the spell he cast over me with his touch. He was gorgeous, with sun-kissed skin and tousled blond hair that fell over his forehead, making me itch to push it out of his eyes. Even in these ridiculous shoes, I had to tilt my head back to meet his concerned gaze.

“Thank you,” I breathed, attempting a wobbly smile. When I gathered my bag and my suitcase to walk toward the adjacent restroom, he grasped my hand.

“Do you want me to watch this stuff for a moment?”

I froze, the instinct to distrust his easygoing kindness pushing me to walk away and never look back. This man was trouble, the kind of trouble I’d tumble head first into before he took my heart and smashed it on the ground. It had been only a few hours since I’d left Peter’s house after walking in on him having sex with that woman on his couch. I wasn’t quite ready to flirt yet.

The man grinned, his toothy smile lighting up his entire face. “You’re definitely not catching a flight—nobody’s going in or out for the next couple of hours.” When he saw my stricken face, tears pooling in my eyes, his expression softened. He gently stroked his thumb over my wrist where his hand rested on mine, wrapped around the handle of my carry-on.

“No obligation, okay? I just saw a pretty lady stumbling and figured she could use a hand.”

“It’s okay, I’m just—it’s been a rough day. I’m going to go wash my face. I’ll be right back. Thank you.” I stepped away from my bag. If he wanted to steal a suitcase full of lingerie and sex toys, more power to him.

I’d thought Peter would be excited when I showed up out of the blue for a long week of adventurous sex. I didn’t hold any rancor toward the other woman. It wasn’t her fault Peter was engaged. Or that we’d been in a long-distance relationship since he moved to Atlanta six months ago, or that we would’ve been married in three more months.

Three weeks ago, Peter had lamented my lack of sexual imagination over the phone. I spent the night crying and then came up with a plan. I wrote a sex bucket list—a list of everything he or I wanted to try but that I hadn’t had the courage to pursue. Two weeks ago, I’d gone shopping online, binging on sexy outfits and toys. One week ago, I’d steeled myself and bought a plane ticket. And this morning, I’d dressed in an unbelievably sexy bandage dress, uncomfortable lingerie, and stilettos, hopped on a plane, and flew to Atlanta. I’d expected to spend the holidays cozily ensconced in his apartment, banging like rabbits.

Surprise!

In the bathroom, I splashed my face with water, careful not to smudge my carefully applied make-up. I’d canceled my return ticket in the car on the way back to the airport from Peter’s, and bought a ticket out to LA to visit my parents.

Piper: Snowed in at the airport in Denver. Hopefully will clear up in a couple of hours.

Mom: *screenshot of weather report* Are you sure?

Piper: I don't want to get stuck in the airport any longer than I have to. Cross your fingers, it clears up soon.

Mom: *fingers crossed emoji* *heart emoji*

When I returned to the bar, two other men sat at the table with the blond man who watched my bag—the handsome man who’d bought me fries, and a black man with glasses and devastatingly sharp cheekbones. All three men were huge, easily over six feet, with broad shoulders and biceps I could see bunching and rippling under their shirts.

What was I doing? I needed to get my bag, figure out what was happening with my flight to LA, and then get my head screwed on straight. When the blond’s fingers traced over a crumpled sheet of paper, I blanched.

The list. Shit.

I dashed over to the table and snatched it out of his hand. He’d taped the crumpled remnants I’d left on the table back together. I clutched the list to my breast, as my heart pounded and my face flushed with embarrassment. “What are you doing?”

The blond-haired man’s eyes softened with concern. “Why’d you tear that list up?”

My jaw dropped. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” Just what I needed, gorgeous strangers I met in an airport bar sniggering about the sex bucket list I’d written for Peter and me.

As tears filled my eyes, I grabbed my carry-on and walked away. Freaking men. Always pushing, always wanting more, and then when I gave, it was never enough.

Tall, blond, and beautiful leapt from his chair and reached out his hand as if to take mine in his. “Hey, hey, hey, I’m sorry.”

Tall, dark, and handsome rolled his eyes and elbowed the blond out of the way, blocking my path. He pushed my chin up with one finger until I was staring straight into his golden eyes.

“Stop,” he commanded.

A tear trickled down my cheek, despite my determination to hold myself together. He brushed it away with his knuckle, then the next one, and then the next one as they continued to fall. Exhaustion, hurt, and humiliation combined to overwhelm me until I couldn’t stop crying.

So freaking embarrassing. I dug through my purse to search for a tissue. He stopped me, pulling me into his arms, dragging me against his chest and tucking my head under his chin. Tangling one hand in my hair, he rubbed the other up and down my back as I sniffled into his expensive shirt.

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