Chapter 13

Harper

I was headed full steam for the kitchen. I didn’t want to talk about the old days and relationships and all that confusing, embarrassing and possibly conflictive stuff. Why couldn’t life just be simple for a change?

I heard him coming in behind me. “Harper, come and talk to me.”

I didn’t want to.

“Harper?”

I knew what was wrong, what was bugging me. I knew very well that the high chool version of Harper had been embarrassed to be out with a boy because she didn’t know what was expected or how to deal with their advances. That Harper lacked the social skills because her mother’s words echoed in her head. She knew the guys wanted her, wanted her petite but buxom form. She got the whistles, she overheard the chuckles and bets between the boys at school. Who would get her first? She wasn’t like the other girls, though. They seemed to know how to keep the balance between being liked and popular, and being ‘loose.’ That Harper just wanted to be accepted the way she was and not have to wonder whether a boy liked her for her brains or just for the sex. She’d hated that thought.

Then I began panicking. I could feel that cold rush of sick dread cascading down over my head. Brayden was pursuing me and there was nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. I was cornered and I’d literally put myself on an island with no way to get to my perceived safe place. Safe place—that’s what I’d called it. It was my sanctuary where no one could get to me, put me on the spot, force me to compare myself to others. I felt like an outcast, a failure from society in general. I didn’t like the feeling—not one bit.

“Harper, what’s wrong? You look pale and you’re breathing fast.”

“Leave me alone!”

“What? What’s gotten into you?”

“Don’t want to talk about it.”

“Harper, for god’s sake, you’re acting like a kid. I’m trying to talk to you, to tell you how I feel about you and that I want you in my life. Why are you running away from me?”

“Leave me alone!” I slammed the door to the refrigerator and was trying to walk wide of him to get out the door and back to my cottage. There, at least, I could lock the door and keep him out; him and all the boys who wanted my body and then would leave me flat and alone. Like he had in high school and like Steve Tabbott had in Cleveland. Men used women. Used them and cast them aside as if they’d lost their value.

I’d gotten around him by circling through the great room and was out a side door. I was headed at a good clip for the cottage, the wind having risen in the past few minutes and it seemed to match the hysteria that was pumping adrenalin through me. I looked over the water and was shocked to see the sky had grown suddenly dark and the wind was beating waves against the bases of palm trees along the beach. Where had that come from so quickly? I moved faster along the walkway and then screamed as I was lifted into the air.

That was no wind. I struggled and realized there was a pair of muscled arms, like bands of steel fastened around me. Brayden!

“Let me down!”

“Quiet!”

How dare he order me that way! “Let me down, I said!”

“Or what? You’re going to run? Where? Into that water that’s all too willing to swallow you up, pretty little neck and blonde ringlets? If you’re lucky, they’ll find your body on some beach in the morning, but more likely you’ll be missing a leg or arm, courtesy of a shark. No, Harper, be quiet and we’re going back to the house.”

I fought his grasp, beating those arms, but it only served to make them stronger and more determined to hold on to me. He threw me over his shoulder and flung open the sliding door at the patio, slamming it shut and locking it. It began to rain then, not a gentle sea mist inserted in breezes, but a tormenting pounding of giant drops hammering at the glass. From his shoulder, I could see the waves had swelled and now I had the sensation that the ocean was higher than we were. I panicked more as I feared it may swallow us.

He took the stairs two at a time as he carried me up to his master bedroom. There, he flung me to the mattress and pinned my wrists with his hands. His coppery eyes were glowing, and his tanned face was wet from the rain. “Now! We’re going to get to the bottom of this, once and for all.”

“But the storm! We’re going to drown!”

“Then we’ll drown together but at least I’m going to get this out of you. I don’t know where you got it into your head that I want to ravish you and leave you like some half-eaten breakfast tray on the floor in the hotel hallway.”

“Isn’t that what you do to all your women?” I threw back at him, cocking my eyebrow with sarcasm.

“What are you talking about?” His voice was loud enough to be heard above the wind that was angrily trying to break the floor-to-ceiling windows about us. The room was an eerie green, and I sensed the storm had taken on a live form, angry and resentful of our disrespect. It would try to break us. The vengeful storm and the determined, powerful man above me began to meld together in my mind. I tried to roll away, but his hands were like a vise.

“You! Oh, I know all about it. Ripley saw you go into that woman’s room at Utopia. He told me all about it. And to think I had begun to trust you. You’re like some weird collector, taking the women who throw themselves at you but still wanting to break the real, worthy women, like me, who don’t want to be your plaything!”

His face was twisted with anger and confusion. Then, as though the sun had come out, it relaxed. “Ripley told you? That foul little weasel? And you’d take what he says over trusting me? Bit of a double standard, don’t you think?”

I was tired. So, so tired. All the years of trying to forget Brayden, his betrayal and to bury my embarrassment at becoming a thief’s bedwarmer had taken their toll. Survival was hard, especially when you’re carrying the burden of years and refuse to put any of it down.

I began to cry. Not just silent tears but deep, aching sobs from somewhere deep in my gut. Brayden’s expression of anger softened and his vise hands slid beneath me to hold me against his chest.

The storm fought to get in at us while the storm inside me fought to get out, of me and of the us that Brayden and I had become, so long before.

“Hush, now,” he whispered, his mouth over my ear, blocking out the wind while his breath was warm and moist and carried words meant only for me. “I’m here and I won’t let anything happen to you, do you hear? You belong to me—now and forever and I’m not letting go.”

His cheek pressed into mine, forcefully nudging my face so that he could kiss me. It was a kiss unlike any I’d ever experienced. The awkward, gawky boy had matured into a powerful, possessive man and his lips claimed me without permission or regret. His hand circled around and held my head in his palm as he forced my lips into submission.

Somewhere in that maelstrom, the carefully-tended resentment and isolation I’d felt melted away. I was in his arms, again. It was like the first time on the beach and the nights we’d sneaked out to frolic in the surf while the world slept and prepared for their humdrum lives. We were young and had nothing but future ahead of us.

Brayden’s kisses covered my lips, my face and my neck. I was drawn into them like a thirsty woman seeking water. My body relaxed and molded itself against him. I wanted to crawl inside his skin and stay there so he could never again leave me behind.

The howling winds seemed to catch us up and feed a momentum of lust. I felt his hands tearing at my clothes and it never occurred to me to resist. He’d broken down the walls of my resistance and my mind was consumed with wanting to feel his skin against mine.

Lightning flashed and illuminated our naked bodies. In the dim light, punctuated by brilliants from the sky, I made out the outlines of a wolf, inscribed into the flesh of his shoulder. It was his Irish heritage, his badge of independence. Jesus, but it made me gush. I could feel the hot fluids gathering at the apex of my thighs and pussy. Bray seemed to sense this and his hands went there, pushing my legs apart and using his strong thumbs to press into and claim the flesh there. Suddenly, he expelled an animal growl of delight. “Oh, my god, you feel just like I knew you would. You’re so wet and I’m going to take you now, sweet, sweet Harper. You’re to lie there and close your eyes. I can feel that you want me as badly as I want you.”

He’d gently pushed me down onto my back as he’d parted my legs. Now he rose above me and in a flash, I saw him poised and ready to penetrate me for the first time. This was the moment I’d dreamed of and yet feared for so long. His body was magnificent; muscled and sculpted like that of a warrior. His weapon was all male and while my body rose upward to capture it, I feared its enormous size.

His muscled flesh descended onto me then. He entered me and filled me completely, the throbbing pulsing against the walls of my own needy flesh. I had become the prey to the wolf that capped his shoulder and yet I was willingly so. I brought my ankles together and locked them, trying to hold him inside of me, but his will was stronger as he moved over me, thrusting deeply and then withdrawing with an excruciating slowness. I strained upward to hold him in, tears of emotional possession streaming onto the blanket beneath me.

Brayden felt it, too. I could tell. I felt his domination, his desire to own me. I’d become his match, his companion and his possession all in this one act. I reveled in it. This was the boy-man who’d held the key to the secrets we’d shared and to my gentle, tentative heart.

“You’re mine now,” he growled again and I knew it was more an affirmation to himself than to me. “Say it!” he ordered me. “Say it!”

“Yes, yes, I’m yours,” I whimpered willingly as the languorous heat was building within me. I strained, the very spot that sent currents through me straining to be coaxed into explosion by his powerful sword of female decimation. I’d lost the power to resist. I wanted only his hard flesh inside me and for him to never stop.

The burst came then, so long pent up. It shot through me like molten lightning, making me shudder as I gave in to it. Pulsing and spasming, I entered another reality where ecstasy welcomed me with open arms. Brayden held me as I convulsed with the fire, driving hard to find his own so we could cross into that other world together. I heard something crash and it seemed so naturally a part of what I was feeling. The world had gone insane, and I was willingly held in its grip.

At last Brayden cried out, stiffened and then collapsed on the bed next to me. My heart was hammering as I fought to restore my breathing. I felt bereft, the loss of his heat and power left me feeling vulnerable and yet, at the same time, fulfilled. I craved him but wanted to experience the aftermath of sensations he’d introduced inside my body. The air was misty with scents; his sweat and mine mingled with our animal juices. He held me against his chest, and I could feel the blood still pounding from his heart. His voice, deep and vibrating from low in his throat, caressed my senses with gentle Irish words, musical and strangely possessive.

I did not want him to move.

I wasn’t prepared for when he did, rising to sit at the edge of the bed before turning the knob of the bedside lamp that was unresponsive.

“Damn! The power’s out,” he cursed and pulled open the drawer. In the storm’s shards of lightning, I could see he held a flashlight. He turned it on and went to his closet, pulling out jeans and sturdy shoes hurriedly. “Stay here and don’t come down. I know there’s glass.”

“Okay,” I agreed, pulling the covers up to my chin and feeling like a rescued damsel in distress. I was shivering, but it wasn’t from cold. It was from passion spent.