When my hands went behind her back to unfasten her bra, hers went to the button on her shorts, and I pulled back in time to watch her push them and her underwear off her hips. I got off the bed and slowly finished pulling them off for her, and tossed them onto the floor with everything else. Letting my eyes find hers, I started there and worked my way down her body as I rid myself of the rest of my clothes. When I finished and looked back into her eyes, I saw the worry there mixed with the need and passion.
“Cracked,” I said, changing her earlier word. Her eyebrows pinched when she understood what I was saying, like she was in pain, but smoothed out when I continued: “But still my Harlow, and still so beautiful.” And she was. She was bruised everywhere and she was too thin, but you couldn’t take Harlow’s beauty from her.
When I climbed on top of her again, I spent minutes kissing every single bruise on the front and sides of her body. My throat tightened, but I swallowed past the invisible lump there. I couldn’t let this break me.
“What are you doing?” she asked in a gentle tone when she realized that everything had slowed down.
With my lips on her ribs and eyes on hers, I whispered, “Fixing it.”
She didn’t speak for the next couple of minutes as I focused on her torso and arms. After I was sure I’d gotten them all—and had silently vowed to get her back later—I kissed her throat and then her lips; then I noticed the wetness gathered in her eyes.
“Still cracked?” she asked, her voice broke on the last word.
I held my hand against her cheek and took comfort in the fact that she pressed her face closer to it. “You tell me.”
Her blue eyes focused on me, and her lips spread into a shaky smile. “Not even a little bit.”
One of her legs curled around my back, causing me to settle against her heat. A needy groan rose up my throat, but as much as I wanted to take what was right there, I never had taken anything from Harlow that I knew I couldn’t have—and I wouldn’t start now.
“Even though you didn’t make it easy sometimes, I have waited for you for seven years, Harlow Evans.” I used her maiden name on purpose, and she didn’t try to correct me or seem to mind—judging by the way she lifted an eyebrow in amusement. “If you ask me to, I will leave this bed and gladly wait until I can have you . . . but, God, please tell me I can finally make you mine.”
A smile so much like the one I’d fallen in love with lit up her face, and her fingers threaded through my hair. “You’ve wasted so much time waiting for me,” she murmured, and a look of awe spread across her face.
“I’d gladly do it all over again if it meant ending up right here with you.”
Her hand curled around the back of my head and pulled me down until we were a breath apart. “I have always been yours, Knox. I love you.”
My lips spread into a slow smile. “To the stars?”
Harlow’s head tilted back when I pushed into her, and she exhaled a breathy “Always.”
I’d worried that I wouldn’t remember to be gentle with her—when her body so obviously screamed that she needed gentle—but even though all coherent thoughts fled my mind the second I was finally inside her, I shouldn’t have been nervous.
This was my Harlow. My soul knew her and knew what she needed.
Each movement was slow and sure, and I knew that this moment had been worth the wait. She had been worth the wait. What I hadn’t expected was the way she pieced me back together with every pass of her lips against my skin. I’d thought of her as the broken one, but I’d forgotten how much losing Harlow had broken me.
Her nails trailed across my shoulders and down my back, each pass rougher than the previous—a silent plea to go harder. A plea I eagerly met as she tightened around me and her blue eyes fluttered shut.
“Oh—Knox, please,” Harlow whispered, and her head fell back onto the bed as her labored breaths turned into soft moans.
I ground my teeth as I tried to hold off until she came, and pushed harder inside her—drawing out the most intoxicating sounds from her. I felt each hushed word and moan like a shock to my chest. These words, this overwhelming, addicting feeling of having her underneath me, was finally happening after years of dreaming about it—and I knew I would never forget a second of it.
Harlow’s nails dug into my shoulders and her breaths stopped for a few seconds before her body began trembling beneath mine—and the force of her orgasm pushed me into my own. I gripped at the sheets to hold my shaking body above hers, and captured her mouth with mine, swallowing my name on her lips.
She was mine. I was going to take her from this place, and never look back.
“I NEED TO tell you about this week,” she said sometime later. I’d lain down beside her to pull her close, and had been trying to figure out a way to bring up wanting her to leave this house again. The words sounded like they took all her strength, but she continued: “I don’t want to do this, especially not now, after . . . but Collin’s been so unpredictable this week that I feel like I don’t have a choice. I’d planned on telling you as soon as you came over, and now I don’t know how much time we’ll have.”