AT PRESENT, I WAS teetering on the precipice of insanity. To say that Harlow Trembley had been on my mind was an understatement. When she wasn’t consuming my thoughts during the day, she was creeping into my dreams. Waking up every morning with a massive hard-on and using my hand for relief as I pictured Harlow on her knees in front of me taking my cock deep into her mouth.
I was consumed with thoughts of the woman—a beautiful woman who was a friend of my ex-wife’s. But, how close were they? All I recalled were casual dinners and the two of them hanging out during after parties. Perhaps they were friendly acquaintances.
What would be the harm in having a few drinks and dinner? I wasn’t an animal, I could control my urges.
Cheers erupted outside the tent when the last band of the evening took the stage. Harlow swayed her hips to the beat of the music and I wondered what it would be like to have her wrapped around my body. Her hands digging into my shoulders as I fucked her into my mattress.
“Hey, Harlow!” Afton waved as she strode up to our table. “Can I borrow her for a minute, Grady?”
“She’s all yours.”
Earlier, I’d stood across the tent, admiring Harlow from a safe distance. She’d been sitting at a table with a guy that I’d originally thought could be a date, but then he took off with a red head laying my curiosity to rest. I watched as she plucked off tiny pieces of her churro, dipping them into honey and chocolate and then licking her fingers. I was entranced, and that led me to compile a list in my head of sauces I’d want to taste on her skin.
Scrubbing my hand over my jaw, I had to figure out a way to not think about fucking her in every position imaginable. Making it through this event without laying hands on her was going to be a greater accomplishment than becoming a ten-goaler in polo rankings.
I stood catching a glimpse of Harlow as she walked towards the bar.
She is gorgeous.
Her head was tilted to one side, those loose waves of auburn sliding over her shoulders. For a moment, I wondered what it would be like to wake up to all that hair wild and unruly in my bed. Then my thoughts shifted to wrapping her hair around my fist as I fucked her from behind.
I’m acting like a savage animal.
Why couldn’t I think of normal shit like having a nice evening with Harlow? We’d had an awesome afternoon together. She was easy to talk to and incredibly funny.
“Excuse me, Grady?” I heard a feminine voice say from behind me. “Will you take a photo with us?”
“Sure thing,” I replied, smiling at the young woman and her friend. After posing for a dozen photos, my eyes drifted back to Harlow who was engaged in a deep conversation with Afton.
I turned my attention away from her and back to the band. They started playing a song that reminded me of Heather. She would play the hell out of “Closer” by the Chainsmokers.
Fuck. Was this a sign that I shouldn’t have asked Harlow to dinner? Fuck that—Heather is the past.
A young woman with blonde hair streaked with blue tips bounced towards where I was standing. “Hi, you’re Grady James, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
She asked for a photo and then handed me her phone. Outstretching my arms, I leaned into her and snapped the pic. The young woman introduced herself to me and talked for a minute about how all her friends would be jealous. Her fingers flew over her phone, as she mumbled something about uploading to Instagram.
My gaze swept back to Harlow, her sweater had fallen off her left shoulder exposing her skin. A black bra strap revealed itself under the grey tank top she was wearing beneath the sweater. This led me back to picturing her hair draped across my pillows and her naked skin on my sheets, which further led me to wonder if her panties were black.
Harlow caught my stare and arched an eyebrow. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she lifted her sweater back up over her shoulder.
I needed to stop thinking about Harlow. More importantly, I needed to stop thinking about her naked.
“So, if . . . when I get the campaign with Buchanan, I’m finally going to buy a sailboat.”
“Buying a sailboat is on my bucket list or maybe it’s more of a wish list.”
My brows rose. “Is that so?” I asked, scooping more of the rice and chicken onto my fork. Harlow was working on her second pork taco topped with fried plantains. This was very dangerous territory, sharing a meal with Harlow only drew my attention to her lips. Her sexy pink lips that I pictured wrapped around my dick instead of that taco. I’m blaming my perverted thoughts on the heat. Yeah, that’s it, the summer heat.
“Hmm, yep.” She nodded, bringing her napkin to her mouth. “Side note, this food is delicious. You weren’t kidding about this place.”
“What else is on this bucket slash wish list of yours?” My eyes fell to the necklaces draped around her neck. One of the chains had a pineapple charm.
“Finding somewhere to live is my top priority. I also need to find a decent coffee shop.”
I laughed. “Will you be buying a place here? And, how have you not found a decent cup of coffee yet?”
“I could always move back to my mom’s place in Manhattan, but I kind of like the idea of having a home here, I fell in love with The Harbour years ago. True fact, Starbucks over roasts their beans,” she said, pointing her finger at me. “I’m working my way through a few around town.”
“The coffee shop on Harbour Drive is excellent, great coffee and pastries. You should try Nancy’s too.”
“What’s the housewife in yoga pants scene like?”
I shrugged. “Never noticed before.”
Harlow leaned in closer, her hazel eyes twinkling. “Grady James, notorious playboy and charming flirt, somehow I don’t believe you.”
There were an infinite number of ways to decipher her comment, but there was only one fact that remained just below the surface—my former reputation for being a player. Not even a marriage could erase all the years I spent with my name attached to an endless list of models and actresses.
Or perhaps I was transparent and Harlow could see right through me, knowing that I have spent half of this dinner picturing her naked. How could I tell her I’ve been cured of my player ways when I’d spent a considerable amount of time conjuring up various fantasies all starring her? Would she believe me or would she think it was some line I tell every other woman I wanted to sleep with?
“Would you believe me if I told you that I never lie?”
Leaning forward she tilted her head, and her dark hair spilled over her shoulder. “I think I could.”
“In that case,” I whispered, leaning in closer. “You should know that you are the most beautiful woman in this room tonight.”
Her eyes met mine, and her lips parted slightly. “Is that so?”
I nodded. “It is. And you’re going to believe me. Case in point, I told you this was the best place in The Harbour for Cuban food and you agreed.”
She lifted a brow, rubbing her necklace between her thumb and forefinger. “You’re pretty smooth, Grady James.”
“That’s just it I’m not trying to be smooth. I mean I am, but I thought . . . I just wanted to give you a compliment.”
Smiling she stared at me for a moment. I felt the tip of her sandal sweep across my leg.
“Sorry,” she said, shifting in her chair. “I didn’t mean to kick you.”
She didn’t completely hate the compliment. If she had she would have laughed or rolled her eyes, instead she took the compliment. However, I chickened out on taking it any further. The signs, I thought they’d been there and I was wrong. I saw the ways her eyes lit up at the mention of having dinner together. That was all this had been, it was just dinner and nothing more.
“Did you want dessert?”
“No, I can’t even finish this last taco. I am stuffed. Another thing on my list, finding a place that serves New York cheesecake.”
“Noted,” I said, before downing the remains of my water. “Shall we leave?”
She nodded, and wiped her mouth. I signaled for the bill. On the upside, I liked hanging out with Harlow—a lot actually. It was clear that she was very busy, and I needed to respect that fact.
We both reached for the check, and my fingers grazed the back of her hand. I held her gaze, taking note of the faint smile tugging the corners of her mouth. Her beautiful, kissable mouth. Why did Harlow have to feel so good against me? Home would consist of a cold shower for one and slipping into my bed alone.
“This one is on me,” I said, placing my card inside the cover.
“Okay,” she murmured. “But, I owe you a meal now.”
“I’ll be looking forward to the next time.”