Chapter Ten HEATH
Drunk girls weren’t exactly a favorite of mine. God knows I’d come across my fair share of them. They filled the clubs and a lot of them were our fans, so I respected them for being loyal to the band and our music. But they could be difficult. Demanding. Insistent.
Trouble.
So I was used to how it played out. They got drunk. And things came out of their mouths that they might not ever say if they were sober. And they did things—things they might regret later. Including throwing drinks at me because they expected something more from me, when I had never offered it to them in the first place.
So when Harlow threw her arms around my neck and began to gently nuzzle my throat, despite the fucking amazing pleasure it sent coursing through me, I had to remind myself that it wasn’t real. She was drunk and I was helping her into my house where I planned to put her to bed and nurse her until she sobered up. That’s all. Nothing more. She had insisted she didn’t want to go back to her house, so I brought her back to mine, where she was safe and I could make sure nothing happened to her.
But, Jesus Christ, the way she was nuzzling my neck with those amazing lips of hers. I felt it all over my body. Every touch of them against my neck and shoulder sent me as hard as a fucking torpedo. It was driving me crazy. She would only have to put them on my mouth and I would lose all self-control.
Jesus Christ.
“Why don’t you look at me like all those other girls?” she slurred, her head lolling about like one of those dog statues you see in the back of an elderly person’s car.
“Because you’re not like all those other girls.”
She frowned and I wondered if she was going to throw up again but she wriggled free to stand up. Which was a bit of relief because I needed to unlock the front door and was wondering how I was going to do it with her in my arms.
Once inside she saw the pool through the dining room window and twirled back towards me, excited.
“I want to swim!”
Which is just what you want to hear from someone who has a belly full of alcohol.
“Um, no … not a good idea, H-bomb,” I said throwing the keys, my wallet and cell phone into the bowl beside the front door.
Not that Harlow would ever listen to me. She had already made it across the dining room and was out on the patio before I caught up to her.
"Alcohol and swimming do not mix, Harlow. Let me get you some aspirin and put you to bed.”
But she wouldn’t listen to me. She loosened the knot in her hair and it tumbled down her back and over her shoulders. Fuck, could she be any more beautiful?
She stood at the edge of the pool and cast a look at me over her shoulder, a small smile curled on her lips.
“Harlow—”
Water cascaded into the air as she dived in and resurfaced, laughing. “Oh my god, Heath … it’s beautiful!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re crazy!”
“Come in.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
When she stood up and looked at me, I swear to God she set my body on fire with that mere gaze. I drew in a deep breath. And I ignored the desperate need to walk into that water and gather her into my arms and walk out again. Because if I did, I would take her straight to my bedroom and spend the rest of the night fucking that need right out of my body.
She smiled and then nodded as she extended an arm to me. “Will you help me out?”
I knelt down and offered her my hand. Wet fingers curled around mine. Her eyes fixed mine and slowly her lips curled into a mischievous grin.
“Harlow—” I warned.
My words were drowned by the rush of water as she pulled me into the pool. When I surfaced she threw her arms around me and curled her long legs around my body.
Before I could stop her, her soft lips found my mouth and she kissed me. I wanted to stop. I really did. Because I knew she was drunk. But the most incredible lips were kissing me and her tongue filled my mouth and worked against mine in a kiss wild horses couldn’t drag me away from. It was so sweet, and so wet, and so I kissed her right back. And when she moaned, I moaned right back, taking it all in. The wetness of her mouth, the smooth glide of her lips, the soft gentle lap of her tongue against mine, the subtle grind of her hips as she pressed her legs tighter around my waist. It was killing my resolve.
Even lost in the bliss of her mouth against mine I could see those long legs wrapped tightly around me. Only the thin piece of fabric of her panties separated us and the thought made me dizzy. I was hard and I throbbed. And even as I was losing myself in that kiss and responding to the unsubtle language of her body, I knew I would have to stop.
But goddamn it … it was a war inside of me. I wanted nothing more than to pull off my jeans, rip the thin fabric of those panties and plunge deep into her.
I closed my eyes against the thought.
“Harlow … no …” I breathed hard. “You’re drunk.”
She was determined.
“I don’t care,” she said between her assaults against my mouth. Smooth hands cupped my jaw. Hips rocked against mine. Jesus, I could feel her grinding against me, against every part that mattered right now.
I breathed hard against the raging desire that tore through me.
“Harlow, let me take you inside.”
She pulled back, her beautiful face glimmering with tiny droplets of water. She cocked a brow.
“I want you to take me inside …”
I shook my head and if I wasn’t fighting a raging hard-on and a violent urge to be inside her, I would have smiled at how adorable and sexy she was.
“Let me put you to bed,” I said, trying hard to do the right thing.
“Yes. I want you to put me in your bed and show me what drives all the girls crazy for you.” She kissed my neck and I couldn’t stop the groan. Fuck. Me. She was making it hard on me.
“Baby …” The word slipped from my lips as she kissed them. “Not now. Not like this,” I whispered.
She fixed me with those amazing eyes. “Yes now. Yes, like this.”
I smoothed her wet hair from her forehead and looked into her perfect face. “Harlow, I don’t want to make love to you when you’re like this. When I make love to you, I want you to be sober and—”
She frowned. Her eyes rounded. “You don’t want to make love to me?” she slurred. She looked hurt and then brushed her lips against my throat. “Then don’t make love to me. Fuck me.”
Her words made me harder than I’d ever been in my life.
“Not when you’re drunk.”
Pulling back, she fixed me with dark, shiny eyes and released my neck from her grasp. She waded backwards a little and stood before me, suddenly shivering, her skin glistening with diamonds of water, the fabric of her dress clinging to her every perfect curve.
Her brows drew in sharply.
“Fuck you Heath!” she suddenly cried, flinging an arm out and letting it drop limply to her side. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck you!”
Drunk Harlow had re-emerged and she was D.R.U.N.K.
She waded towards the edge and clumsily climbed out. “Fuck you. You fuck!”
Apparently she was attempting to see how many f-bombs she could fit into the one sentence. And she was going for gold.
She stumbled across the patio and slipped over, crashing to her knees. With a rush of water I leapt out of the pool and guided her to her feet.
“Don’t touch me.” She slapped my hand away. The hand I wasn’t using to help her up. Conveniently.
“Let me get you inside.”
She pushed me and took a wobbly step backwards, hugging her wet arms around her waist.
“Why not me?” she asked suddenly. “Why not me, Heath?”
“What are you talking about?”
“What’s wrong with me? You want everything with a pulse … except me …”
And then it dawned on me. What she was saying.
“Wait. You think I don’t want you?” I asked.