Page 33

I drank more last night than I should have, and when I finally stumbled up my driveway after Josh made sure I got home okay, I took a long shower where I stroked my dick and thought about that kiss and what it would feel like to have her hand wrapped around me, or her lips, or her pussy.

But as a new day dawns and a hangover tells me I can’t drink like I used to, brand new and unfamiliar feelings of guilt start to creep over me.

She wanted it. I know she did.

She gave off every single signal that it was fine to kiss her, and I would’ve fucked her right in that hallway if she would’ve been game.

But she said she couldn’t do this, and so, true to my word, I let her go.

I didn’t want to let her go, and the feelings that seem to be pulsing in me where she is concerned are a little frightening. They’re strong, and I’m not sure whether what happened last night between us made me hate her more or if it turned into something else entirely.

I think it’s hate. I’m just glad I don’t have to see her again.

I’m not sure what made me follow her down that hallway other than the sexual tension that seemed thick between us at the table. In my head, I knew she had a boyfriend, but I let my dick do the leading, and my dick wanted to be inside her. For the record, I do realize how dumb that was and how often my dick has led me astray, but it did little to change my mind at the time.

When she admitted they broke up…well, all bets were fucking off. I had to kiss her. I had to taste her. I had to make her shut the fuck up since she was rambling on and on.

I don’t know if I’ve ever met a woman who incited such strong yet contradictory feelings in me.

I glance at the clock. Evan said they had some family thing to do at ten, so I only have another hour before they’ll drop her at home. I lay my head back down as I live in my own regret for a few more minutes. I shouldn’t have followed her. I shouldn’t have kissed her. I shouldn’t have crossed the line. I shouldn’t have told her I wanted to taste her cunt even though I still do. I shouldn’t have masturbated while I was thinking of her, and I shouldn’t have called out her name when the hot jizz squirted all over my hand.

But all those things happened, and now I have to live with them.

I stayed in the hallway for a minute after she bolted, and she was gone by the time I returned to the table. Mandy hung around, though, and she got hammered with the rest of us—except for Josh, who only had two drinks and made sure the rest of us got home okay.

I wonder if Mandy went home with Jaxon. I wonder if he took her to Coax.

I doubt it. I can’t really picture Harper’s teacher at a sex club, but teachers are people too, I guess.

I finally force myself out of bed and take another shower to try to get rid of the hangover, but I don’t whack it this time despite being unable to get Victoria out of my mind.

Her soft lips that tasted like strawberries. Her tight little body that was begging me for more up against that wall. The way her eyes dilated at just the sight of me in the hallway.

Yeah, she wants it. She’s just fighting it, and maybe I should do a better job of fighting it, too.

But I already know that one taste won’t be enough.

I grab some breakfast and the Toradol I usually reserve for the season, and by the time the bell rings and Harper is on the front porch, I’m starting to feel almost human again.

I wave to Evan, who’s waiting to make sure Harper gets in okay, and my eyes fall to my little girl as she carries her dinocorn tucked beneath her arm.

“Get in here, ladybug,” I say, mussing her hair and slinging an arm around her little shoulders. She bats my hand away with a small smile and gives me a hug as she walks in, and something about having her back home makes me feel sort of complete again.

We spend the day together. We go to that same park around the corner from my house, and we catch a movie at the theater where we eat too much candy and popcorn, and we go mini-golfing afterward. It’s a little before dinnertime when we get home, and we’re sitting on the couch debating what to have for dinner.

“Pizza?” I offer.

“Nah, had it last night.”

“Chicken wings?”

She makes a face that clearly says she doesn’t eat such a thing.

“Okay…what suggestions do you have?”

“Can you, like, cook something for me? I miss homemade meals,” she says.

My brows knit together. “I don’t really cook.”

“You should get a girlfriend who knows how to cook,” she suggests. “Maybe someone like Ms. Hartley.”

“Ms. Hartley?” I repeat, my chest tightening at the mention of her name. “Uh, no.”

“Why not? She’s pretty, and she’s nice, and—”

I hold up a hand. “And no. End of story. What do you want for dinner?”

She’s quiet.

“Look, we’re both going through a lot of change right now, and dating isn’t even on my radar. When I meet someone and the time is right, we’ll talk again, okay?”

“But Ms. Hartley—”

I hold up a hand to stop her. “Please stop. She called me to let me know you’ve been in contact with her outside of school hours, and if you’re going to be messaging her from your iPad, I may have to take it away. I don’t want you getting attached to someone we hardly know, Harper.”

Her brows dip. “I hardly know you,” she points out.

“So come talk to me when you’re sad or upset so I can get to know you better. Don’t run to fucking Hartley.”

She bursts into tears.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” I lean over and wrap an arm around her shoulders, and I feel like shit that I made her cry. I shouldn’t have that type of reaction, especially not when she feels a connection to Victoria—even though I don’t feel one.

If an adult female is making her feel safe, I should help build on that rather than resent it. But I have such conflicting feelings every time Victoria Hartley is involved in the conversation that I can’t seem to stop myself.

“I don’t like it when you swear,” she sobs.

“I know. And I’ll try to stop. I’ll get a swear jar, okay? Every time I curse I’ll put money in it and you can buy whatever you want with the cash. Look, I just don’t want you reaching out to someone who’s there in a professional capacity when it’s outside of school hours. It’s not right, and if we have to look at other schools—”

“Just stop!” she screams at me, and then she storms from the room, and I hear her bedroom door slam shut a minute later.

Fuck.

I’m really on a winning streak here where I’m just doing and saying all the right things.

I feel awful.

I order chicken tenders and mac and cheese from some place she seemed to like a few days ago, and when it arrives, I yell upstairs. “Harper? Dinner’s here!”

She doesn’t come down after a few minutes, so I set the table and dish out the food. I grab some apple juice and put it in her favorite cup, and then I head upstairs and knock on her closed door. “Harper?”

She doesn’t answer. Maybe she has her headphones on or something, so I knock a little louder and yell her name a little louder. “Harper!”

Still no answer.

I turn the handle and open the door, and the room is empty.

I open the closet in case she’s hiding somewhere, but it’s dark and empty in there, too.

She’s not under the bed.

She’s not in her bathroom.

I check my room, my closet, my bathroom, all while calling her name. Calling it turns into screaming it as I realize she’s not anywhere in the house.

My heart stops for a beat when I finally focus long enough to see that her shoes are no longer by the front door where she kicked them off when we first got home. They must not have been there when I got the food a few minutes ago, but I didn’t notice.

I had no reason to notice. I had no reason to think she wasn’t just up in her room fucking around on her iPad. My heart moves from stopping to racing as an icy fear grips onto it and spreads across my chest.

I’m noticing now, and I have no idea where the fuck she might be.

But I’m going to find her.

I have to. After all, in the last two weeks, she’s become the most important person in my entire life.

To be continued in Book 2, FALSE START