Brown eyes slipped down to me in a look I’d genuinely never seen from the man before. Annoyance. He pressed his tongue against his cheek as he surveyed me. “You know boss, I never knew you were so nosey.”
“Just a question, Harp,” I said softly.
“A question I don’t want to answer,” he retorted just as softly.
I bit my lip. “What about the other thing? He said he heard something about you?”
“Alta,” he warned.
“Harper,” I said in my own sort of warning. We stared for several long seconds. Brown against brown. Predator and prey. It was easy to tell which one I turned out to be, so frowning I was the first to look away. “You can’t ignore all my questions.”
“No?” he asked. Suddenly I was being turned, the backs of my legs pressing against the table as a very determined man stood over me. Tattooed arms came down on either side of my body and a broad chest that I now knew was rock solid came close enough to hover over mine. “And what aboutmyquestions, huh?”
“Your questions?” I said, confused and the proximity of his body not helping me to think clearly.
Through the fog of my brain something sparked, and I raised my head quickly, having to swallow nervously a second later. His face was closer than I thought. “Guts. That’s the word for your tattoo.”
I’d originally thought about going with “resilience” since it seemed to fit the festival theme. But then looking at the broken and battered heart Gus had drawn, I realized that something a little more raw was more his style.
The immediate smile pulling at the corner of his mouth would usually irritate me, but this time it made me feel warm. The nod of his head sending a burst of pride shooting through me.
“That’s a good one. I like it.” His warm voice washed over me like a ray of sunshine, heating my skin inch by inch. He leanedforward, his chest coming to press even closer to mine, his mouth coming down beside my ear. That sunny voice lowered, and so did my fluttery feelings. I clutched the ends of the table behind me to stop myself from touching his hard abs again. “But that’s not what I’m referring to this time.”
“No?” I shivered, his breath running over me like a feather-light touch.
“Nope.” His lips grazed slightly over the shell of my ear. I may or may not have whimpered low in my throat. He may or may not have smiled at that response. “When are you gonna let me help you, Boss?”
My breath hitched as the sensation of his mouth on me lit me up. I instantly wanted to press my body into his, but I stayed rooted in place, afraid to make a move. “How do you even know if you can help me?”
The way he looked at me was like I might as well be naked. He looked as if he could see through my clothes and was liking it—was hungry for it.
“Trust me, I know.”
My eyes went to his lips again, my mind wandering back to our one simple kiss and the way it made me feel. But this time my gaze drifted lower. Taking in the columned lines of his neck, the sculpted rise of his chest, and the enticing expanse of the rest below. Perversely, I slid my gaze along his tattoos. Taking in the black ink that curled different images along his skin, all leading down to his strong hands on either side of me.
I didn’t know hands could turn me on. But looking at Harper’s and thinking about how they weren’t touching me—how I wish they were—sent a heat that was unmistakably inappropriate straight to my thighs.
Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I rushed out, “I still need to think about it!”
“Goddamn, you know how to torture a guy,” he said. Hisgrumble made me open my eyes. I was met with the sincerity in his. His smile was soft, for me. “But alright, Boss. It’s your move. When you finally get the guts to come see me, I’ll help you work off some of that frustration.”
Days later, I was still groaning in frustration. Chastising myself as I ran along the sidewalk. It was all great and dandy that Gus wanted to magically zap all my frustrations away, but couldn’t he see that he was the one making me the most frustrated!
Sure, Grace was still a major witch and Ox still hadn’t approached me about rescheduling our meeting and I still hadn’t apologized to Melissa for being mean and about a million other stressors in my insanely busy schedule.
But mainly,overwhelmingly, it was him.
He was consuming. My every thought found a way back to him. It was becoming a problem I couldn’t just shake off in the name of professionalism. Now that I knew the way his hands felt on my body or the way his lips tasted when he was angry, I don’t think I could ever go back to using our client, consultant relationship as a barrier anymore. I was curious about Harper. In more ways than one. And every day I denied myself to satiate that curiosity, it was like diminishing time on a bomb that was already set to blow.
Like on Tuesday when I was looking at the Feed Board, Harper came right up behind me to look too. With him so close, I couldn’t help feeling that tingly sensation of excitement only to be left near panting when he finally sauntered away without so much as an actual touch.
Or on Thursday when the guys were trying to convince me to get a tattoo again. Harper decided to chime in by telling me exactly where he thought one would look good. He chose a spot right on the inside of my arm where he ran warm fingers, causing me to break out in goosebumps of anticipation, just so he could pull away and walk off like nothing happened.
Now it was Sunday and I couldn’t go more than a few minuteswithout my mind slipping back into the space in my memory where I could feel hands on my body. Harper’s breath over my skin. Harper’s lips on mine…
“Ugh!”
My feet pounded against the pavement as I ran and ran and ran, desperate to get this anxious energy out of me and into another vestige. Mostly, I was fighting myself for wanting that other medium to be him.
