“First of all,” he began, grabbing my wrists and pushing me roughly against the wall, “Julia did not spend the night in my hotel room. She simply came by to say goodbye before she returned to her husband and two children in New York.” He leaned close to me, his mouth inches from mine. “Second of all, if I’d spent the night with anyone last night, it would have been you. Because you are the only woman I want.”
Before I could respond, his mouth was on mine; his jaw, his tongue, encouraging me to open to his exploration. The part of me that was still angry, that was still overwhelmed with that surge of jealousy, wanted to push him away. But there was this other part of me that had grabbed on to his words and was holding them close, playing them over and over again as my heart swelled with the knowledge of it.
I would have understood if he’d taken advantage of the melt of my body against his, if he’d taken advantage of my naive willingness to give him whatever he wanted just because he spoke a few, kind words. But Harrison’s hands were gentle as they slid under the back of a blouse I’d been wearing since the day before, as his fingertips played over my ribs, looking for those places he’d first touched in my bed a lifetime ago. He could have hurt me, made me pay for everything I’d put him through these last few weeks. For the cruel words, for the fact that I’d used his body just days ago, for the fact that I allowed his son to run wild and get himself hit by a car. Maybe I wanted the punishment, the pain. Maybe I needed it. But it wasn’t in him to provide it.
He lifted me most gently into his arms and carried me back to his room, pausing only long enough to dig the key card out of his pocket and open the door. His bed, I was almost pleased to notice, was carefully made, displaying absolutely no evidence of the accusations I’d made.
He lay me in the center of that perfect bed, crawling up beside me, his mouth seeking mine again. I slid my fingers into his hair and pulled him tighter against me, opening to him before he had to ask. I didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know what would happen when we left this bed, but I knew I wanted to feel the warmth of his touch and the spice of his kiss. And that was all that mattered to me right now.
He undressed me slowly, his lips exploring each inch of flesh that exposed itself as my clothing hit the floor. I laid still, watching the contrast of his warm skin against my paler flesh, watching the pleasure that floated in his eyes each time he looked up at me. I helped him out of his shirt, unable to bite back the moan that came each and every time I saw the beauty of his pecs, of his broad shoulders, and his awesome abs.
And then he was tugging me underneath him, and that touch that was growing so familiar sent waves of pleasure up and down my spine, made my thoughts disappear. I pressed my bare feet to the backs of his legs, pushed my hips up as tight against his as I could. I felt a shiver run the length of his body, and that made the pleasure my body was receiving that much better. How I could I not feel pride in the fact that I could make such a big, strong man shiver like a child? And then he began to kiss my throat, his hips moving in a slow roll, and I forgot everything but what it felt like to have this amazing man inside of me.
I woke hours later, content in the warmth of the hotel bed sheets, the smell of Harrison’s cologne all around me. I didn’t open my eyes, didn’t move, content to just lie in the receding peace of sleep. But then I heard his voice, words I didn’t at first understand. But then as sleep drifted further and further away, they began to make sense.
“…he plays football. What I really want to know is if there is any way we can make sure he will be ready for spring training come March or April?”
Silence for a minute, and then: “And that’s in Portland?”
Portland. He was making plans to take JT away.
Tears burned my throat, but they didn’t spill. I think maybe my eyes were just too dry. I’d cried so much these last few days, there simply wasn’t anything left.
I must have said, or done something else to alert him to the fact that I was awake.
“Let me get back to you,” I heard him say. And then I felt his weight on the bed just before his hand fell on my shoulder.
“Hey, babe,” he said softly. “Did I wake you?”
“No.”
He pressed a kiss to that space between my shoulder and my throat, my body responding instantly with a rash of goose pimples.
“I talked to the nurse at the hospital. She said that JT’s been sleeping since you left. And Nick’s there, sitting with him until we can get back.”
“Okay.”
There must have been something in my voice. He tugged at my arm, pulling me onto my back, his eyes—always so expressive—filled with concern.
“What’s going on?”
I sat up, tugging the sheet up over my breasts, suddenly wishing I was fully dressed before we began this conversation. But, again, he wasn’t really dressed, either. He’d pulled on his briefs, but was naked otherwise. And that didn’t make anything easier. His chest was quite distracting.
“Penelope…”
He reached over and touched my jaw lightly, lifting my chin to force my eyes to his. I shook my head free and watched his expression change as his hand fell to the mattress.