I sigh a little. I can certainly see that. And before I knew he was my promise, I was repulsed by the thought of belonging to someone in that way. I felt sold. But with James, it’s… different.
“I want you now, Harper,” he says, like he’s reading my thoughts. “I have you now. And I know you want me too. But if I’m wrong, here’s your opportunity to say no.”
I can’t move. This feels permanent. Like this yes or no answer will decide my fate.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” James says.
And then his bare chest is brushing up against my body and his mouth takes what he came for.
Me.
His tongue twists inside my mouth as he lifts up my shirt, gently at first, but then he loses patience and lifts me up off the bed and drags it over my head in one swift move. Before I can even appreciate the coolness next to my bare skin his hands are on the button of my shorts. Then the zipper.
“Take them off,” he commands softly.
I wiggle them down my hips, over my knees, and then fling them away with my foot, my eyes never leaving his.
He grins and everything I saw under the pier that day, back before I knew for sure that he was a killer, all those thoughts flood my mind. How beautiful he is. How he holds my attention with his gaze. How he makes me throb with want and longing. My hand goes to the bulge in his jeans. He’s so hard against my hand, the throbbing between my legs becomes an uncontrollable ache, letting me know that I am very close even though we haven’t even started yet.
“Harper,” he says, bringing my attention away from my pulsing need and back to him.
“Yes?” I answer back in a whisper.
He smiles and lies down next to me as he lets out a breath that sounds a lot like a sigh. I feel him relax and then he takes my hand and laces our fingers together. “I’d like a do-over.”
“What?” I laugh a little. And in that instant, that laugh changes everything. I put aside my tally and the Admiral, and the loss and sadness I’ve been feeling since my brother split us apart last summer. The sensual mood breaks with the laugh as well. But in its place comes something else. In its place comes…
“A do-over,” he says again. His fingertips find my belly button and the light touch traces little concentric circles around it. And then he releases my hand, flips on his side—propping himself up on his elbow—and extends his hand again. “I’m James Fenici, nice to finally meet you.”
I bite my lip to stop the tingling in my nose and throat that comes before tears. He takes a deep breath like he might be worried his gesture will go unappreciated.
But he’s got nothing to worry about. I extend my hand and we join together in a new way. “Harper Tate,” I whisper.
He flops on his back and then reaches for me, pulling my cheek up to his chest as he puts his arms around me. “Miss Tate, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted your name. I’ve been thinking about you for almost thirteen years. And I’d like to erase that little pink notebook. I’d like you to forget all of that stuff. Because those were the words of a man trying to convince himself he was not in love.” He leans down and kisses me softly, his hands cupping my cheek as he grabs hold of my lower lip and then releases it. “But I am in love. I fell in love with a six-year-old. I’m sorry, it’s f**ked up, but that’s just how it happened.”
“I fell in love with you that day too, James.”
“But I’m not sorry for telling your father no, Harper. I’m not sorry because it was a test. Men don’t give away daughters like you.”
I look away and shake my head. “But he did. I don’t understand that part.”
James turns my head back to him with a gentle touch to my chin. “A man worthy of his daughter would say no, Harper. He was never going to give you away. And now that I have you here, I have to ask you.”
My heart does that now-familiar thump. “Ask me what?”
He slips out from under me and pulls me up to a sitting position as he drops to his knees on the floor. I cover my mouth to hide the smile.
“Harper Tate,” he says. “Will you trust me?”
My whole face goes hot and tingly and I look away to hide my reaction.
James guides my gaze back to him again. “Don’t turn away from me, please.”
I stare down as he gazes up. And then I notice how naked I am. His bare chest is pressed up against my knees. His breath is tickling the inside of my thighs. My heart beats faster as all these senses crash together like I’m caught in a wave. Suddenly I’m trembling.
He slides his hands up my thighs and grabs my hips so he can scoot me to the edge of the bed. He places himself right in the v of my legs and then looks up at me, awaiting my answer.
“I don’t know…”
“Just give me a chance, OK? Get to know me a little, and give me a chance.” He leans his head down to kiss my belly. “You have to trust me.” His eyes dart back and forth as he searches for doubt inside me.
But he doesn’t find it. I might not know what’s really going on. I might not understand what he’s asking. But I do know that trust can be easy if you want it to be. You either do—or you don’t. You believe in the love and loyalty and good intentions—or you don’t.
“I don’t trust anyone, James. Except Nick.”
He gets up and sits on the bed. “So why’d you come here?”
I stand, unashamed of my nakedness, and move across the room. It’s too small so I reach the wall with only a few paces between us, and then I’m forced to turn and look at him. “I don’t know. I’m tired of waiting for things to begin, I guess. I have no idea why I’m here.”