Page 49 of A Hurt So Good

I’ve been talking to Jarrod a lot lately, too. Mostly about the guys. He truly wants them to get on board with working with him and not at the warehouse where they are now. I understand both sides. I feel the same way about having money handed to me, too. I’d rather make my own than live off my mom forever, but his opportunity for them is different. He wants this to be a family business with the guys, and I can respect that. I offered to talk to them about it more, and he agreed.

“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” I look over when I hear Harlon talk.

“I have cramps. Do you know how bad cramps can get? I should buy the machine to make you all feel my pain,” I tell him. Harlon laughs as he walks toward me and pulls me into his arms.

“Cramps, huh?” I nod my head before resting it on his chest. In seconds, he has me lifted in his arms, carrying me upstairs and into my bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him. The nextthing I know, we’re in the bathroom where he sits me on the toilet seat and starts a bath.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“Warm baths are supposed to help with cramps, right?” Oh my God. He is not running me a bath to soak in! My heart leaps in my chest at the kindness. I’ve never had a guy do that for me before or even care that I had cramps, to begin with.

“Har.”

“What?”

“That’s the sweetest thing anyone has done for me,” I coo at him. He smirks as he puts some bubble bath in. Then he turns to me and lifts me off the toilet, standing me up. He jerks my leggings and my underwear down before kneeling on the floor in front of me. Now, I look at him strangely.

“Spread your legs,” he demands.

“Uh, what are you doing?”

“Tampon?”

“I can handle that part,” I tell him.

“Or I can. Spread your legs,” he demands once more before pinching the inside of my thigh. I yelp and spread my legs for him, watching as he grabs the string and pulls my tampon out without batting an eye. He tosses it in the trash before standing and tugging my shirt and bra off. Then he takes my hand and leads me over to the bath tub and helps me.

“You need to relax.”

“And what about you?” I ask him. He smiles.

“You think you’re getting rid of me?”

“Are you just going to watch me take a bath? Turning into a stalker like War?” I tease him. He leans down and captures my mouth with his in a searing kiss that has my knees shaking. Then he lowers himself down to his knees next to the tub and slides his hand under the water and straight between my legs.

“What are you doing?”

“Orgasms help with cramps. So that’s what I’m going to give you,” he tells me as he finds my clit.

“I don’t think that helps,” I argue with him.

“Yeah, it does. I’ve read about it online. A proven fact that orgasms help with cramps.” I’m about to open my mouth again when he slams his fingers inside me. Instead, I gasp at the intrusion. Har has no problem finding the spots that set me off as I shift and give him better access to my body.

He finds the magic spot inside me, and I arch, wanting more. He works his fingers in and out of my pussy as water sloshes all over, but he doesn’t care.

He keeps going and going as my eyes roll back, and I can feel the orgasm creep over me. It hits me hard, and I convulse in the tub.

“Shit, Har!”

“You like that?” he asks as he slowly eases up on me and pulls his fingers free. I nod my head as he stands and grabs a towel, wiping himself off.

“I’ll be back in a little bit. Stay in there until I come back,” he orders me. I salute him, making him laugh before he leaves the bathroom.

I lay my head back, close my eyes, and relax. That’s something I haven’t done in a long time. Everything has been happening so quickly that I haven’t even taken time for myself. I used to take me time a lot before I came here. It gave me time to reflect on my life, and right now, the thought of Jason pisses me off. I can’t believe that son of a bitch actually stole everything from me. I thought he cared about me. Hell, I thought that bastard loved me, but it turns out I was wrong.

I sigh as memories assault me. It’s not like I don’t dream of that day. The day my dad tried to kill me. I do. And often, but it was the look in his eyes in the courtroom the day he was sentenced. It was that look that haunts me.

He was angrier than I’ve ever seen him in my life. I remember being on the stand and his eyes burning right through me. The judge kept reminding me I didn’t have to look at him, and I didn’t after that, but I could still feel his gaze on me.

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