“Because I always ask him. It’s sort of how we do things.”
“But why?” he asked again, but I didn’t have an answer.
Whydidwe always seek our brother’s permission for everything? I understood why we sought his help if there was trouble—because he was always willing to put his assistance out there for us to take. But I wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary by having a project assigned to me. It was just how anyone else would get an assignment at work. So why did I default to needing someone else’s permission to accept something I would accept in a heartbeat if it wasn’t related to my family’s business?
Harper’s shoulder bumped mine in a soft acknowledgment.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m not trying to stir any pots here. If there’s a legitimate reason, by all means, do what you do. But if you’re just thinking about asking someone’s permission to do your job—a job you know you can knock out of the park—then I say, kill the middleman and give yourself permission to be great on your own.”
My heart and my cheeks warmed at the easy belief he had in me. I felt like I could scale mountains in the light of his praise.
“Grow a pair, and give myself permission,” I mused.
“Essentially,” he said. Looking up, he accepted the drinks the waiter set down with a polite smile and a soft thank you. Sliding mine over to me, he caught me looking at him and that smile tipped into a more knowing one. “What?”
“Is this an official lesson, then?” I asked. Taking a sip of the drink, I closed my eyes and sighed. It was really good. Cucumber and lime. I’m glad he ordered it. “My ball growing lessons, I mean.”
He snorted. “Alta, please, we’re in public.”
I grinned. “Just following your lead,boss.”
“Ah,” he said. His smile did something I didn’t know I understood so well until right now. It curled in a mischievous way, unique to his features alone. He was up to something. “If we’re doing lessons, then I want you to tell me something.”
“Okay.”
“Do youeversay bad words?”
This surprised me into a laugh. “What?”
“Bad words. Curse words. Do you say them?” he asked. “I know you like the word please, but I’m talking about a good old-fashioned‘fuck’.”
“Harper!” I jerked at his language, my knee hitting the table and causing me to wince.
He laughed, the sound full and deep. A warm hand covered my knee where I hit it, soothing away the sharp pain to a dull ache instead. As he continued to hold onto me, fingers pushing into my bruised flesh in soft circles, that ache migrated somewhere else entirely.
“I’m guessing that’s a no, then.”
Swallowing past my ill-timed arousal, I shrugged, trying to play casual, even though his fingers were dancing around the skin of my thigh in a movement I didnotfind casual. “I don’t really see a reason to, so no, I can’t really think of a time where I’ve cursed.”
“Oh, baby,” he grinned, thoroughly amused with himself. I’m gladsomeonecould laugh at a time like this. All I could think was how he’d only ever called me the ‘B’ word when things were getting heated, and now with his hand on my thigh I was officially on my way to hot and bothered. Harper didn’t seem to mind. “That’s way too goody-goody, even for you.”
“Oh?” The pitch of my voice had changed, coming out as a breath of obvious desire.
He hummed. “Yes. And I think we need to change that. Now.”
A moment of blank silence passed.
“What?” I shook my head.
“I’m waiting.”
“Harp, I can’t just do it on command! It doesn’t come naturally to me,” I laughed.
“I bet you can.” His tone changed to something much deeper and melodic, his touch also changing as he went from small mindless circles to longer dragging motions. “Can I help you out?”
“Um,” I swallowed. “Sure.”
Gliding his hand further up my thigh, he slipped it under the hem of my skirt. I held my breath as he worked a gripping hand over my muscles, thinking there was no way he was going to touch metherein this restaurant. When his finger slipped over my panties, I gasped, immediately realizing two things.
