“I don’t give a shit about those guys. Hell, I don’t even give a shit about myself some days,” I said, running both hands through my hair. “I give a shit about you though.”
Harlow blinked a few times and I saw the impending tears fade. “I don’t want to be a joke,” she said softly. “But I can see how easy it would be to punk someone like me.”
“A chick with womanly rage issues?”
Grinning grudgingly, she walked to the couch and sat down. “I give a shit about you too.”
I opened my mouth to say something. I wasn’t even sure what exactly, but something that would open a door I wasn’t ready to look inside. Instead, I handed her the TV remote.
“Watch TV while I clean up.”
Looking worn down and even younger than her age, Harlow nodded. She turned on the TV and flipped mindlessly through channels.
Once in the shower, I washed my hair and scrubbed away the feel of Harlow from my skin. My mind replayed the way Harlow tasted and how her hips fit against mine. No matter how much I scrubbed, I failed to cool my desire. Only by closing my eyes and imagining my hand was Harlow’s pussy could I regain any level of control.
I didn’t hurry out to the living room once I finished in the shower. Staring at myself in the mirror, I tried to see the man I was back in Mexico before evil corrupted me. Back then, I was capable of tenderness and patience. I was a good man. Maybe a schmuck, but an honorable man nonetheless.
I wanted to be that man again. No more merely wearing the mask, I wanted to feel clarity in my heart again. To know I could hold Harlow without worrying a moment of weakness might destroy all the light inside her.
With her knees pressed against her chest, Harlow looked young and uncertain on the couch. Her arms wrapped tighter around her legs as she stared blankly at the TV. When I stood next to the couch, her gaze found me and I saw fear. In the barely lit room, I looked like just another man capable of destroying her.
“Thank you for giving me a good first kiss,” she said in a hoarse voice.
As she caressed her lips, my body responded. I sat down next to her and tried to remember the ease I once shared with my high school girlfriend. I needed to forget the dark last decade and focus on the present with Harlow.
“I haven’t kissed a woman like that in years.”
“You did seem a little rusty.”
When I narrowed my eyes, Harlow smiled. A moment passed before she scooted closer to me then focused on the TV.
“Do you think it would be better for you to sleep at your place tonight?” I offered, feeling guilty about the erection I was sporting.
Harlow didn’t even look at me before shaking her head. “I’d spend the entire night thinking about you and wishing I was here. Besides, you’re only in town for a short time. Do you want me to leave?”
Adjusting myself on the couch, I sighed. “Not even a little bit.”
“Can I rest my head against you?”
When I nodded, Harlow cuddled closer and leaned her head against my bare arm. Even though we were both tired, we remained on the couch for a long time, watching TV silently. A part of me accepted Harlow might really be the woman capable of handling me without my masks. Another stronger part knew I still had time to push her out of my life and walk away from this temptation. As we walked to bed and slept without saying a single word, I didn’t know which part of me would win out.
Chapter Twenty Three ~ Harlow
I woke up to find Saint gone from bed. Propping myself up on my elbows, I checked the clock then wondered if Saint left the apartment without me. Today was the first paintball match, so maybe he didn’t want to be viewed as soft by being seen with me.
Flannel pajamas clinging to my sweaty skin, I remembered why flannel and summer didn’t mix. Since Saint hadn’t made an inappropriate move either night, I planned to start wearing something more comfortable.
Sitting up in bed, I was startled when Saint walked soundlessly into the room. He stopped and studied me.
“Your cheeks are red. Are you sick?”
I took in the sight of him shirtless and recalled the way the dark hairs felt against my fingertips when we kissed in the hot tub. My lips remembered the taste of his. If I was flushed before, I was likely beat red after reminiscing about the night before.
“No,” I mumbled, shuffling to the bathroom. “Did you sleep at all?”
“Like a damn baby,” he said, chipper as usual. “Get cleaned up and we’ll have breakfast before heading to the Johansson place.”
“Sounds great.”
I heard Saint chuckling at my morning grumpiness. Shutting the door as he found a shirt to hide what was making me so damn crazy, I needed to wash off my bad mood, sweat, and the uncomfortable need between my legs. I cleaned up and got dressed before walking to the kitchen where Saint waited.
His gaze met mine and I saw something unsettling in those dark eyes.
“What?” I asked.
“You look beautiful in the morning,” he said softly.
Wrapping hair behind my ears, I smiled awkwardly. “Ditto.”