Chapter 11
HARLOW
“Did you ever consider that maybe the answer to all our problems would be a private island?” I whisper as I kiss along Gunner’s jaw.
“An island, huh? I don’t know why I’ve been being such an ass, holing up in old Piedmont. If the lady wants an island, so be it.” He rolls on top of me, and it makes me so happy to feel his hands gentle and reverent on me, like I’m too fine to be treated roughly.
Which doesn’t mean I don’t like when we get a little kinky. Getting spanked by the front door was the sweetest pain I’ve ever felt. I’m thinking of picking up one of those little leather riding crops from the naughty adult store downtown. That and some movies, maybe. And some body lotions. The ones you can lick off.
“What are you thinking of, sweetheart?” Gunner asks. He must see my blush, because he chuckles. “Or should I even ask? Damn, girl, that angel face is tricky. I never would have imagined you begging me to spank you.”
“I loved it.” I snuggle closer. “Loved it so much, I wouldn’t mind if you did it again.”
“Oh, I’m damn sure I will,” Gunner insists. “You’re a huge pain in the ass, Harlow. If I spank you every tenth time you do something to drive me nuts, you’ll never be able to sit comfortably again.”
I giggle and roll on top of him, pinning his arms over his head. “Maybe I should spank you. You aggravate me too, you know.”
He shrugs his huge, strong shoulders. “Go ahead, honey. But with those tiny hands? It’ll probably be like swatting flies off my ass.”
That makes me laugh so hard, it hurts my heart a little. “Gunner? Why have we been apart for three years? Why didn’t we try?”
His face goes cold and blank.
“Don’t do that,” I beg.
“Do what?” he asks.
“Leave me.” He gives me a confused look, and I smooth his hair back with my fingers. “Sometimes you’re in my arms, but you’re not here at all. Tends to be when things get hard or ugly. But don’t do it. I’m strong. I can deal with anything if I have you.”
He cups my face in his hand, rubbing a thumb along my cheek. “I know you are. Sometimes when I think about what hell would break loose if you and I just strolled downtown Piedmont hand in hand, I wish that private island really did exist.”
“I don’t care what my daddy thinks,” I tell him.
He shakes his head at me. “First of all, that’s a lie. And it’s fine. I don’t need you to give up your relationship with your father for me. But you do care, and it would be a sticking point forever. The blame isn’t all on his shoulders, anyway. I have my own baggage, my own family and friends, and I don’t know that I like the idea of you around them. They’re corrupters.”
I kiss his forehead. “So, maybe we need to run away together.”
His eyes light up. “Other than going on the road with my dad and brothers one summer, I don’t think I’ve ever been more than a hundred miles from this damn town. Might be nice. What would I do, though?”
“What you do here,” I say haltingly. “Which is what exactly?”
“I work at the bar,” he says vaguely.
I reach under the covers and fish around until I touch exactly what I was looking for.
“Damn, Harlow. God, your hands are soft. Ah, that’s perfect.”
I know what I’m doing, and I do it well. And then I stop.
He lifts his head, surprised. “You want me to touch you th—”
“No!” I cry, pulling away. If he starts touching me, I’ll be putty in his hands. That’s the opposite of what I want. “You like what my hands just did?”
“Very much,” he says, smiling that smile that makes my heart skip.
“My hands will do more of that, and I’m pretty sure I can arrange for my mouth to join in if you talk to me.” I raise an eyebrow at him and he frowns.
“Talk?”
“You say it like I asked you to walk on knives,” I laugh.
He sits up. “Is that my other option? Cause let’s get to the kitchen then.”
“Very funny.” I straddle his legs and put my hands to work, kissing his mouth while I do. “Talk or this stops.” I pull both hands away abruptly just to show him I’m not kidding.
“Alright. You’re pure evil behind that sweet face,” he gripes. “I own the bar.”
I nod, loving how my hand barely fits around him. Granted, I have small hands, but, damn, Gunner is very well equipped.
“You don’t look surprised,” he notes.
I shrug. “Rochelle told us a few things.”
He growls, and I increase the pressure and speed. “Anything else you can tell me?” I ask before I stop again.
“You’re torturing me, woman.” He balls his fists in the sheets.
“That’s the point,” I say.
He turns his face into the pillow and groans. “Fine. Fine, you want to know it all? I’m going to tell you every damn thing, even if I hate doing it.” He pulls me close. “When I walked away from you, I felt like life was over. So I drank every bottle that was put in front of me and f*cked any girl who spread her legs for me. But I couldn’t get you out of my damn head. My father took my brothers and I on tour for a band, and one of my brothers got a tape of a very rich girl doing some pretty crazy things with two guys in the band. My dad blackmailed her father, and he shared some of that money.”
“Oh.” I have no idea what else to say. I wondered how he got the bar, but I never expected that was the story, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.
My first thought is ‘poor girl.’ I get what it’s like to want to be a little crazy and sexy. I also know what it’s like to have your daddy’s money loom over every single aspect of your life. It’s not a nice feeling.
“The money was enough that I could buy this place, too. After Mrs. Daniels died, Mr. Daniels wanted out, but he wanted someone he knew would take care of things,” he adds. His back is stiff and straight, like he expects me to be disgusted by what he just told me.
“I think Mr. Daniels has excellent taste in people,” I say softly.
“Don’t, Harlow.” Gunner’s words are ringed with hard regret. “Don’t make excuses for me every time I f*ck up. You have no idea how it breaks my goddamn heart to have you believe in me like that.”
“Why would it break your heart?” I ask, taking his hand.
He looks at me, his green eyes fierce on my face. “Because you make me believe I can live up to everything you expect. Everything you want. And I don’t know if I can do that.”
“You can.” I climb onto his lap and wrap my arms around him. “I know you can. I believe in you, Gunner. You can do anything.”
He crushes me to him, petting a hand over my hair with long, hard strokes. “I’ll never know how I got so damn lucky.”
“I’m the lucky one,” I whisper, and then his mouth finds mine and time evaporates into the most perfect bliss imaginable.
***
“I so wish we did have our own little island. I hate that I have to leave you,” I say, curling my hair in the mirror as Gunner scowls at me. “It will only be a few hours.”
“I don’t understand how you don’t even know where you’re going,” he mutters. “And why the hell can’t I drive you?”
“I told you. Jilly’s sister is arranging to get us all there and back together. There’s a ton of set up and limited parking, so we need to just travel together. And the client was trying to keep details quiet, because it’s a private party. So I don’t know the address. But I’m sure it’s one of the country clubs around here. There are, like, seven.”
He doesn’t even blink, and I feel like a rambling fool. I put on my makeup and ask, “Don’t you have to be at the bar?”
“Jared is happy to cover things,” he says. “I’m the boss, remember? I go there because not working makes me itchy. But I don’t have to be there.”
“Well, maybe you should go in tonight just to keep yourself busy. I’ll give you a call when I’m done, and we’ll get together. I got us some things the other day when you needed to run into the auto parts store.”
I point to the black and silver bag from the adult store. Gunner and I have been together for two glorious days. The only break was rehearsals, and Gunner sat in the parking lot, promising he’d wait till I was done. Only he never could and wound up stalking in and flashing a smile so sweet, even General Jilly relented and let us go early.
“What’s in there?” he asks, refusing to let his voice get excited, even though his eyes light up.
“Very fun things,” I promise vaguely. “Now come kiss me, because I have to go. But I expect to have a very, very good night with you later, Gunner Hunt.”
He walks over and wraps his arms around me. “I like your hair like that. You look even sexier than usual. Didn’t think that was possible. Come to bed with me.”
“I’ll muss my hair,” I whisper, already weakening. I check my phone and sigh. “Gunner. I only have a few minutes.”
He’s kissing my neck and bending me over the low dresser I set up to put my makeup on, whispering in my ear the whole time. “I’ll be quick. And I won’t mess your hair up. I promise.”
His hands are hard and sure, reaching under my clothes to assault my skin with their perfect, knee-jerkingly good pressure. He yanks the skirt of my dress up and my thong down, and the sound of his zipper makes my breath catch.
He rubs the tip against my backside in slow, soft circles until my knees actually knock together. One of his arms catches me around the waist, and he uses his thumb to run along my folds gently. Without a word, he fits himself right at the slick entrance and presses in, slow at first, then faster. His fingers bite into my hips and I grip the dresser. He pumps harder, and the dresser rocks, smashing into the wall.
“I need you to come,” he whispers into my ear and bites my neck gently. He presses one hand down my body, bunches my dress in his fist, and darts his fingers down until he’s right over my *. “Tell me to touch you.”
“Touch me,” I gasp as he slides in and out harder.
“Where?” he asks.
“Touch my p-ssy,” I whimper.
His chuckle tickles my ear. “Good girl. That’s it.”
His fingers move fast and undo me, make me scream, make me shake against him and reach back to grab his hips and press him deeper than he was before.
“Harlow!” he moans, his body jerking over mine before he braces his arms on the dresser and keeps me trapped in his embrace.
I wait a few beats, then pull away from him, not wanting to do anything but climb back in bed. But I need to go to my job. My first dancing job! Much as it sucks to leave Gunner, there’s something thrilling about the idea of dancing and the thought that I’ll finally be proving my father and everyone who didn’t believe in me wrong.
I cup Gunner’s face in my hands and kiss him hard. “Thank you for that,” I grin. “I’ll be back and we’ll play with what’s in that little bag, okay?”
He tugs his pants back up on his hips. “I can’t wait, baby. Go have a good time. I’ll be ready when you’re done.”
***
We’re so busy chatting and doing last minute fixes of our hair and makeup, I’m hardly paying attention to where we pull up. When I glance out the window, I’m not the only one who’s suddenly quiet.
“Uh, where the hell are we?” Madison asks, adjusting a fake eyelash. “I thought we were dancing for a private party. I assumed that meant Hudson’s Country Club.”
“I was thinking Pillar’s,” Alex says, looking at the tiny bar that’s so not Piedmont’s premier club.
I’d been half hoping, half dreading that it was Pillar’s, because my father is a member. Part of me wanted to hide my risqué outfit and dance from his eyes because he’s my father. But part of me wanted to have one of those moments where he saw me from across the room, finally seeing onstage the things I’d talked about doing so many times. Daddy had come to ballet recitals all while I was growing up, but the kind of modern, passionate dance we were doing tonight was something he had no idea about.
But we weren’t at Pillar’s. Oh no we weren’t. And I felt my heart jump into my throat when I realized where exactly we were. And I felt so, so damn stupid for not putting it together sooner.
“Girls, this is a good paying gig. The company that booked this location could easily have afforded Pillar’s, but they wanted this atmosphere. Loose, casual, fun. We’re here to help them keep that atmosphere. Not to judge.” June, Jilly’s sister, gives us all a severe look. “I want to remind you that you’re here as professionals under contracts. So lose the belle look and march in there like you’re about to do a job. Got it?”
The other five girls nod, but my throat has closed. I grab Jilly’s arm before she can hop out of the huge suburban. “Jilly, you have to make excuses for me. I can’t do this.”
“Are you kidding? Every other girl looks to you when they’re unsure. You cannot not do this. Are you having stage fright?”
“Jilly, this is Gunner’s bar.”
“Shit. Um, okay. Look, I’m so sorry. June didn’t even know the location until yesterday, and she just said it was an old bar. I had no idea...will Gunner be pissed?”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I have no idea how Gunner will feel about me dancing in next to nothing, probably on top of his bar. I’m not ashamed of what I do, but I have a feeling Gunner will be less than thrilled to see me doing it in a shady bar.
“Who would have booked this place?” I ask.
“An oil rig company? I don’t really know, but I guess they wanted to have downtime for the workers to relax and get some entertainment.” Jilly puts a hand on my arm. “I can stall for ten minutes. Can you call Gunner? Or is he here?”
I glance out the window.
His bike is here.
“I’ll meet you in ten. Thank you, Jilly.” I watch my friend slip away and try Gunner’s cell. He picks up, but it’s too loud inside for me to hear him. I hang up and text for him to come to the parking lot.
The sight of him coming out of the bar, all long legs in perfectly fitted jeans, scuffed boots, a tight t-shirt, and that cocky smile, makes me wet all over again.
“Well, well, well, look at you.” He holds his hands out and frowns at the suburban behind me. “It was nice of you to come show me your outfit, baby, but I would have been fine with seeing it after the show.” He looks me up and down and his frown deepens. “Though I’m kinda hoping you’re going to tell me there’s a little more to it than that?”
I look down at the tight satin blouse cut extra low and tied at the midriff, the tiny satin skirt, thigh high fishnets, and high heels. “Well, it’s kind of burlesque style, but without stripping,” I rush to finish explaining when his eyes blaze. “And we’re doing it...here.”
He raises his eyebrows and pulls his mouth to the side. “Come again?”
“Here,” I whisper. “We’re dancing here.”
“F*cking a*shole douchebag Ryker,” he mutters. “Okay. Listen. You can’t dance. Not tonight. Not here.” He looks at me, his green eyes holding my gaze.
“You can’t tell me what to do...I have to. I have to, Gunner.” I keep my voice steely. “If I’d known it was here, I would have told you, but I had no clue until we pulled up. We thought it was a country club. They’re paying so much money, we never thought—”
“Never thought it might be a newly rich white trash bastard showing off his money?” he cuts in, disgust all over his face. “I knew I should have never told Ryker yes.”
“Who’s Ryker?” I ask.
“My dumbass brother,” Gunner spits out. “And a champion blowhard, and not the kind of guy I want my girlfriend dancing in front of. Not looking like that, and not even if you were wearing a snowsuit. No way.”
Girlfriend? Even though I know things have changed between us, I wasn’t sure how Gunner would define our relationship. Right in the middle of this stupid argument, I felt like throwing my arms out to the sides and twirling from happiness.
I am Gunner Hunt’s girlfriend.
I love the sound of that.
Unfortunately, there’s no time for me to dwell on it, because I have to take a stand. I so want Gunner to understand, and hope the worst case would be some amazing makeup sex after if he didn’t.
A girl could always hope.
“I’m sorry. I really am. But I have to just go in there and do this with my girls. It’s just a job. When it’s over, I’ll leave. And I’ll leave with you. It will be fine. Trust me.” I reach out for Gunner, but he spins away from my touch, jamming his hands through his hair.
“Damnit! It’s not you I don’t trust, Harlow! You don’t know what a bunch of degenerates my family is. You don’t know the lowlife scum they spend time with. I don’t have to meet a single person in there, and I can tell you right now they’re all trash.” He looks at me, his eyes wild. “Where’s your organizer? I’ll double your money if you leave now. All of you.”
But something has crossed my mind that never did before. “Is Rochelle here?” I glance over and see the bright orange Mustang with the custom striping I’ve found out is hers, so I know the answer.
“I guess. She and Ryker are friends,” he says absently.
“She’s from your world.” I say the words slowly, remembering what Rochelle said to Daisy and me. “And I’m not. You don’t think I can handle this. I don’t belong here.”
He grabs my shoulders, his fingers hard on my skin. “Exactly. The fact that you don’t belong here is a good thing, Harlow. This is a shitty, mean, ugly place, and you? You’re beautiful. You’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known. And you’re a kind, decent person. Which is why I want you to get whoever’s in charge of this mess and let me get you all out of here.”
“No.” I say it loudly.
“No?” He paces, balls his hands into fists, shakes them, and mutters what’s probably a whole lot of very bad words. “What the hell is your idiot plan, then?”
“I’m going in there. And I’m going to dance. And I’m going to leave. And it’s not going to be nearly as bad as you think it will be. I can be in your world, Gunner. I can.” I walk over to kiss him and he grabs me hard by the face, kissing me roughly. He tears his mouth away and scowls.
“This is a mistake, Harlow. I can feel it.” He grabs my hand and drags me in, not letting go of me until we’re through the back door and to the curtained-off area next to the bar. It’s basically a stage set to look like a second bar with several poles. It’s perfect for what we’re doing, but I can feel the anger rushing off of Gunner in waves.
“Thank you, Mr. Hunt,” June says, and all the girls other than Jilly stare. I nod to let them know that, yes, we’re dancing the bar where Gunner Hunt, my Mr. Hunt, works.
“What did he say?” Jilly asks.
“I’d rather not discuss it before performing,” I whisper back.
Suddenly the moves I could have down backwards in my sleep are slipping out of my head, and I feel the worst case of stage fright I can imagine settling in.
We take our positions and a man who sounds so much like Gunner it’s actually a little eerie thanks the people who came for their hard work and tells them to enjoy the show.
The curtain goes up and the lights in the bar dim while we get the focus of small spotlights. When the first notes ring out, it’s a relief that my eyes haven’t adjusted yet, because I can focus on the dance, on moving my body in time to the music. The crowd is enthusiastic and claps along, cheering now and then when we hit a particularly hard move in unison. It’s loud, sure, but no one is being anything more than excited.
And I’m thankful, because my eyes do adjust just as I’m shimmying down a pole upside down, and Gunner is staring, arms crossed, mouth a tight, flat line. I can feel the aggression radiating off of him, and I know that if anyone makes any move that’s less than okay, he’s going to come out, fists flying.
I’m so nervous, I almost misstep. As hard as it is, I have to tear my eyes away from him, tall, muscled, and pissed as hell, glowering from his corner.
Bad as it is to see Gunner, it’s worse to catch sight of Rochelle rolling her eyes and throwing back shots. She looks so beautiful and polished, a little piece of my self-esteem shakes hard. There would be plenty of guys who would probably pick Rochelle over me in a side-by-side comparison. I know it doesn’t matter as long as Gunner isn’t one of those guys.
And he isn’t. But I’m not sure Rochelle knows that, and that may spell trouble for tonight.
I tell myself over and over that he isn’t in love with Rochelle, no matter how at home she looks in this bar, tough but gorgeous, confident and sexy.
It rattles my nerves, but I turn back to the dance.
I focus on the way my body moves, the way the music pulls me in, the sound of the other girls’ claps, stomps, and slaps. The routine is meant to be sensual and beautiful, with an edge of sexy. It also spans three songs straight with no more than a pause in between.
By the time the last chords play, we’re all panting and sweaty. I would murder with my bare hands for a glass of water, and I need to adjust my fishnets.
We wait a tense second, mid bow, before the entire bar erupts with screams of and claps that are true music to our ears. We worked our asses off to learn these steps in no time, and it feels so good to have people actually appreciate them.
We come off the stage and Jarred has a line of ice water glasses with lemons waiting, along with cool damp towels. The girls cheer, and I press the towel to my neck, careful not to muss my makeup. I take a long sip and am surprised to see a guy who looks so much like Gunner, I almost reached out to him.
“You must be Harlow,” he says, his smile not entirely nice. Like he’s maybe laughing at me behind it. “I’m Ryker, Gunner’s brother.”
I hold my hand out and he shakes, holding on a little too long and a little too tight. “It’s nice to meet you,” I say, looking over his shoulder for Gunner, who’s headed my way at lightning speed. I catch sight of Rochelle trying to pull him back and talk. I guess she’s the reason he wasn’t waiting for me as soon as I finished.
“So, I know my brother has your name tattooed on his arm, but seeing as he’s with Rochelle now, I was wondering if I might be able to buy you dinner sometime? I know a great Mexican place with margaritas so good they’ll make you wanna take your clothes off.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I’m sorry, Ryker. Was that supposed to be a come on? Because it just sounded like you being a walking a*shole.”
Instead of being offended, Ryker just laughs. “I like your attitude, Harlow. And I can’t take my eyes off of you when you dance.”
“Girls, curtain in five!” June calls.
I take a last long sip of water, and Gunner makes it over just as I hop down from the stool. “What’s going on over here?” he demands.
“Your sexy little ex was just trying to resist my charms. Not very successfully, of course.” He grins my way and Gunner grabs him by the shirt roughly. “What the hell, man! It was three damn years ago! I didn’t realize you held a candle!”
“She’s not my ex,” Gunner snarls. Rochelle comes behind him at this second, her low, skintight black dress making my outfit look demure. “She’s mine. Always will be. So back the hell off, Ryker.”
“Shit, I got the message,” his brother snaps, yanking away from Gunner. “You don’t have to piss on her leg.”
Gunner lunges and I catch his arm. “What is wrong with you?” I hiss. “He didn’t know we were together.”
“That’s my damn fault,” Gunner says. “Get your stuff. We’re going to find you a goddamn engagement ring tonight.”
Rochelle’s face goes pure white and she grips the bar behind her.
“W-w-what? Wait a minute. Was that my proposal?” My head spins and I feel nauseous. “That’s not how I imagined it going.”
“Well, I’m so sorry it’s not what you wanted, Harlow, but I never asked you to get on a stage in front of a bunch of horny a*sholes and shake your ass. Maybe I could have given you the kind of proposal fit for a princess, like you imagined, but you’re not leaving me many options here.” His voice is so mean, it’s just this side of a sneer.
“Are you being serious?” I ask, blinking to keep back tears. I have a clear view of Rochelle, who’s eavesdropping without trying to hide it, and her face shows a triumph I want to punch away.
“Serious as a f*cking heart attack, babe. You want to be with me? You need to get that my girl is mine and mine alone. I’m not putting up with all this bullshit. I feel like beating the shit out of every guy looking at you.”
“You better get yourself under control,” I snap. “This is my job, I’m doing what I love, and I’m not letting you ruin it. And to think I thought it’d be my daddy who’d stop me from following my dreams.”
I turn to walk away from me and he lets out a groan of frustration. “Really? Your dream is dancing in next to nothing on a makeshift stage in some shitty bar?”
I face him and get control over my voice before I speak. “My dream is to do what I love and have the people I love support me. That’s my dream, Gunner.” I stomp up the steps just in time to take my place before curtain.
This time there’s no holding back, no nervous fear. I dance my heart out, and let my body channel every frustration, every bit of anger and disappointment I feel. I have never moved this way, never felt this electric jolt on my skin.