Page 65 of The Complication with the Best Man

My tongue traces a line up to her ear, and Harper whips around. I wait for her to push me away, tell me all the reasons why we can’t do this. But she grabs my shirt and pulls me forward, her lips crashing to mine. I trace the seam of her lips with my tongue. She opens for me, and I get my first taste of her since the last time we kissed, which was way too long ago.

My dick is hard as stone between us, and when I jut my hips forward, I’m met with the softness of the fake belly. Wanting to feel her, I reach under her dress from behind until I feel the strap. The Velcro coming apart sounds like a needle scratch in the small space, but it doesn’t deter us.

Harper’s hands are in my hair, and when she yanks on it, I toss the belly to the floor and spin her around, backing her up so her back is against the wall, and she’s facing the mirror behind me. I continue kissing her and slide my hand down and up under her dress until my fingers rest at the edge of her panties.

“Can you be quiet?” I whisper before sucking her earlobe.

She bites her bottom lip and nods.

“Watch yourself come in the mirror. I’ve been dying to see you come since you left my hotel room the morning after.”

My lips meet hers again as I slide my hand past the elastic of her underwear. My fingers crest over her mound and delve between her legs. She’s already wet for me, and I bite back a moan.

I tease her, gently running my fingers from her entrance to her clit over and over again. Harper bites my bottom lip to hold herself back from moaning. Her hands fist my shirt as I tease her entrance with my middle finger, never giving her what she wants.

She pulls away from the kiss and pleads with her eyes to put her out of her misery, and it’s my undoing. I push my middle and ring finger into her, using the heel of my hand to provide pressure on her clit.

In seconds, she covers her mouth with her hand to keep herself from making a sound. Her attention goes from my face to the mirror behind me, and a small moan does sound in her throat.

I rock my hand back and forth, my fingers soaked with her arousal, and I step to the side and turn my head so I can watch in the mirror.

Fuck. We look good. Harper’s back is arched while she grinds her hips, so, so needy. My large body beside her, my hand between her legs, both of us fully clothed.

When I increase the pressure and the pace, Harper’s eyes squeeze shut, and she wraps her other hand over the one already on her mouth, her hips bucking against my hand. Her body stiffens, and she jerks her hips again. Once. Twice. Then her body is like Jell-O. She’s soft and pliant, and I know the only thing keeping her upright is my hand between her legs.

She lets her hands drop from her face and the back of her head hits the wall with a thud, eyes still closed.

I pull my hand from between her legs. I’m about to suck her juices off each and every one of my fingers, but a knock sounds at the door.

Harper’s eyes whip open in alarm, and her body goes rigid—so opposite of the relaxed and sated woman from moments ago. “Yes?” she croaks.

“How’s it going in there? Do you need help with anything?” the sales lady asks.

“No, I’m good, thanks. Just finishing up.” Harper widens her eyes at me.

“All right, just wanted to check on you because you’ve been in there awhile, and I don’t see your partner here anymore.”

“All good! He was just unzipping the dress for me,” Harper says, sounding anything but natural.

I have to work to keep my laugh inside while Harper gives me a stern look.

As soon as it seems the woman is gone, she turns her back to me and whispers, “Can you unzip me?”

I do so quickly, and she turns back around, silently shooing me out of the changing room.

I sit in the chair and think about what just went down. How much I enjoyed it. How much she enjoyed it. How it feels as though we’ve been dancing around the inevitable for weeks and weeks.

Maybe there could be something between us. If anything, living with Harper since I came to Lake Starlight has proven that we can get along and that we enjoy spending time together. We’re definitely attracted to each other and not at a loss for sexual chemistry. What if we could be something, could be a couple, a real family? Wouldn’t that be best for our baby?

Suddenly, images of the two of us play through my mind—us pushing our baby on a swing in the park, Christmas Eve tucking in an excited toddler and reading them a bedtime story, Harper bringing our child to the fire station and me showing him or her around.

Before when I used to think of the two of us together, I was scared and unsure. Now, it just feels right. And I think it’s about time I tell her I want more than the coparenting thing we agreed on.

When Harper comes out of the dressing room, I open my mouth to address what just happened and what it might mean, but she speaks before I can.

“Thanks for the great orgasm, but that can’t happen again,” she says under her breath.

I blink several times. Every part of me wants to argue with her and tell her she’s wrong, but there’s a look of steely determination in her eyes. Determination and… fear. So, I nod. “Okay.”

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