Page 82 of Wilde Secrets

He laughed, a full body laugh with his head thrown back. Harper took the opportunity to wriggle herself a little further onto his dick.

He inhaled between clenched teeth, torn between waiting and giving in and letting her have what they both wanted.

Harper’s hands landed on either side of his face, her eyes meeting his. “Please, baby. Fuck me.”

At her softly spoken words he did just that, unable to take his time and sending them both over the edge with swift, sure strokes.

Afterwards, as they lay together, Harper tracing a pattern on his chest with her fingers, him with his arm wrapped around her, he wondered how many days they had left.

ChapterTwenty-Seven

Harper

From where Harper sat looking over the water, she could see seabirds diving to catch fish. The spot she’d begun to think of as her own private hideaway was peaceful, the only sounds the birds and the leaves blowing in the gentle breeze. She tucked her feet up under her legs on the outdoor lounge, a cup of coffee long turned cold cradled in her hands. She’d been out here for hours, her grumbling stomach telling her it was time to head back to the house.

It was also time to head back to LA.

Three weeks she’d been given by her father. That time was now nearly up. Since that first night at karaoke, she’d gone back twice more, singing both times. She’d even promised to sing tomorrow night at the Cape Wilde Oyster Festival, this time an original song and not a cover. Rowan was part of the organizing committee, Harper had discovered, and ran an oyster farm of his own.

Harper hadn’t taken much convincing, to her surprise, and she was more excited than nervous about her upcoming performance.

For the most part, she was happy that she was finally able to get up in front of people and sing like she’d been able to before her mom died, but every time she did she felt like it took her one more step away from Cape Wilde.

One more step away from Logan.

They hadn’t talked about her leaving, and Logan had slowly become more withdrawn as her time in Cape Wilde came to an end. He was quieter around her—had fewer smiles—and although they still shared a bed, his love making had changed.

Logan was behaving as if he’d never see her again, as if these were the last days they would ever have. In a way Harper knew that was reasonable, what did they have in common after all? She was from the literal other side of the country, and still needed to sort out this mess with her sister and her dad.

And it was her sister that was foremost in her mind.

The tabloid press had gone bananas when they’d spotted Isla and King in upstate New York. Harper had long since deleted social media from her phone, avoiding any news about her family that didn’t come directly from Isla or King.

Her father had gone back to LA almost immediately after the gala, leaving his two daughters on the other side of the country. The only contact she’d had from him since she’d been yelled at on the phone and Logan had hung up on him, was a terse voicemail and a follow-up email, both demanding that she provide a status update on her song writing.

Harper had ignored him, for the first time in her life. And it felt good.

She smiled, a sense of satisfaction rolling over her. She’d worked harder than she ever had and now had a notebook full of songs. They weren’t her usual work—they’d gone in a slightly more melancholic direction to the bubbly pop she usually wrote for Isla—but they were good.

They might even be the best she’d written.

She frowned, untucking her legs and finishing the coffee. She slipped her sandals back on and made her way along the track back to the house. Logan’s home. The place that had begun to feel so familiar to her—the man who had begun to feel so familiar to her—that it was going to rip her heart out to leave.

But he hadn’t said anything about her staying. And she knew that he would never leave with her. His family were all in Cape Wilde. He’d already given up his dream to return here, to support his family. He wouldn’t leave again.

She sighed. It didn’t matter anyway, her life was in LA.

Harper’s phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out, smiling as her sister’s name popped up on the screen. She swiped open the messaging app and stopped in her tracks halfway to the house.

It wasn’t from Isla. It was from King. She opened it with shaking hands.

It’s King. Your dad has gone off the rails.

Three little dancing dots appeared, then disappeared. Then appeared again. Harper held her breath.

He says he’s going to sue Isla.

“What!” Harper exclaimed. She shook her head in denial. How could this be real? Her fingers flew across the screen, typing out a reply.

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