Crazy in Love Read online

  Natalie’s in her mom’s and dad’s arms, both of them hugging her. I’d almost forgotten my parents and her dad were here. They tend to sneak away to talk business when they get together. As if me mentioning him in my head made him magically appear, my dad comes in through the butler’s pantry. “I’ve been looking for you, sweetheart.”

  “I’ve been around,” I reply.

  He comes straight for me and gives me a hug. “Are you doing all right?”

  I put on my best stiff upper lip, just like they taught me. “I’m fine. No need to worry.”

  “I do anyway.” His softer tone catches me off guard.

  Suddenly feeling every bit his little girl, I rest my head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Dad.”

  My dad kisses my head and then heads for the door. “Love you. Call me soon.”

  “I will. Love you.”

  After they leave, I grab my bag and head for the door. Just as I reach my best friend, Harrison comes from the living room. “You weren’t sneaking out, were you?”

  “No. I made quite the show of things tonight. So why would I bother sneaking around now?”

  Always ready to laugh, at least my jokes land with him. “That’s good to hear.”

  As if Nick appears out of nowhere, Natalie turns back to me while resting against her husband. His hands slide around her waist, resting on her flat belly that will soon be much bigger.

  It’s not envy.

  I’m not ready for the baby stage of life yet, but maybe my own person to rest against wouldn’t be so bad.

  “In regard to being godparents, we took you both by surprise, but please don’t think we made our decision lightly,” Nick says.

  Harrison stands next to me, and for a moment, our hands brush against each other’s. It’s the lightest of touches, but it makes me feel like we’re a team. “I won’t speak for Tatum, but it would be an honor.”

  “You’re a good man, Deck.” He and Nick do that man-hug thing guys do—a shoulder bump, a pat on the back, lots of self-congratulatory talk.

  Wiping a tear, I find it’s heartwarming to witness. I want that. Not the man-hug thing, but to be a part of something amazing that will always bind me to my best friend. “I’m in.” The words come out too fast to take them back. Not that I want to, but I probably should have given it more thought.

  “You are?” Natalie asks, her eyes welling with tears. Joy lifts her expression as she rushes to hug me. “Thank you, Tate.”

  “Our kid will be lucky to have you,” Nick says.

  “Thank you.”

  As other guests come toward the door, Harrison says, “I’m going to see Tatum home.”

  Knowing they saw us earlier, I feel my cheeks heat. Blushing isn’t something I normally do, but here I am, acting like a schoolgirl. We say our goodbyes, and then Natalie says, “Thanks for taking care of my best friend.”

  Harrison looks back. “My pleasure.”

  The door closes as we walk down the steps. “I’m hoping it’s mine, as well.” I click my tongue and give him a little wink.

  “Don’t worry.” We reach the curb, and he opens the door for me. Just as I start to get in, I stop to say—but he kisses me, stealing the words right off my tongue. “I’ve waited what feels like forever for this night. There’s no way I’m leaving a single inch of you untouched or wanting.”

  There’s not much left to say, except, “How fast can we get to Tribeca?”

  9

  Harrison

  Apparently, one can get from the Upper East Side to Tribeca pretty damn fast when a large tip is involved. Who knew, considering it’s Saturday night? Helps to have a local calling the shots. And call the shots she did anytime traffic slowed. He finally gave in and just listened to the lady.

  Smart man.

  She was right, but that doesn’t surprise me.

  Her building, on the other hand . . . Holy. Shit.

  Pure money. I’m still learning about Manhattan real estate, but damn, even I know nothing’s worth less than a mil in this place. And that’s probably a basement apartment with no windows.

  Location.

  Location.

  Why is she located so far from me in this elevator? Just the way she looks at me has me hard. Fuck, let’s be honest. She doesn’t even have to look at me. The tips of her fingers teased my leg in the back of the car. The kisses she placed on my neck when the driver was too busy to notice in the mirror had me squirming.

  I was good, keeping my hands to myself, but these last few flights are a struggle. She’s so sexy I could devour her whole.

  I’m still hoping to actually . . .

  The elevator dings when we reach her floor, and she says, “Almost home,” like she’s talking to anyone she knows, not the guy she wanted to have sex with in the middle of a dinner party earlier. Please don’t let things have cooled. It’s a vicious cycle we’re caught in. I’m starting to think we have the worst timing ever.

  Her door is at the far end of the hall. Judging by the spacing of the others in the hall, the apartments are bigger than the average New York City dwelling.

  The black lacquered door stands out among the neighboring wood tones, each resident's personality already on display. Tatum’s doesn’t just stand out because of the color, but the design of the panels reminds me of the high-end shops of 5th Avenue.

  I’m not used to silence, but she owns every second of it, comfortable in the quiet. Growing up with two brothers and a sister meant the noise levels at my house were always high. It was nice to escape to the Christiansens’ house, where the energy was more laidback.

  “Do you have siblings?” I ask, cracking that silence in half.

  With a key in the lock, she turns back, curiosity filling her pretty eyes. “I’m an only child.” A smile appears, and it’s nothing less than entertained. “Such an odd question at this juncture in the night.”

  “Why don’t I know more about you?”

  “Guess we never delved that deep into our lives because you were busy delving deeper into other things.”

  “Mainly you.” I shrug. “Can’t resist a perfect setup.”

  “What can you resist?” she asks, her breathing becoming heavier.

  The door is stiff when she tries to open it, so she hip bumps it, and it swings inward. “Sometimes, you just need a solid thrust.” Her chest rises and falls as if my mere proximity to her is a turn-on.

  I’m never going to last with this siren. Not only did I never think we’d be this close to having sex again but that trust she showed in me earlier blankets her eyes now as she welcomes me into her world. The sight of her practically purring for me has my body on high alert and begging for more. I move in, boxing her with my arms on either side of her head. “You found the man for the job.”

  She runs the tip of her finger over my Adam’s apple and continues lower until she reaches my chest. “What am I to you, Harrison?” she whispers. I try to wrap my head around the question. She might need a different answer than what she is to me.

  She’s the forbidden fruit.

  A decadent dessert.

  The finest whiskey. A piece of chocolate you’ve only experienced once but have been searching for ever since.

  And that’s the truth of it. I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want Tatum Devreux. This torture has continued for a million reasons, but both of us seem to finally be headed in the desired direction. I’ll let her lead, play the games, participate in the Q & A’s if it gets me more time with her.

  “You were never a one-night stand, not to me.”

  The answer appears to satisfy her as the corners of her mouth tip upward. Fisting my shirt, she tugs me closer and then kisses my chin. “It’s sad we ended up that way.”

  “Then let’s write a new ending.” I cup her face and kiss her hard.

  Her lips are plush and accepting, her fists holding me just as tightly. Turning, she pulls me into the apartment and kicks the door shut. Our lips part, and she takes a deep breath of air.
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  She spins away from me, locking the door, and then walks deeper into the apartment. “Are you going to keep me waiting?” she teases, glancing back at me over her shoulder.

  “No. Just taking it all in.”

  I follow her into the dimly lit living room. It’s not what I expected for Tatum. Her style is typically fashion-forward and tending toward the dramatic, so I imagined stark walls and furniture that’s slick in design and cutting-edge modern.

  Considering it’s a corner unit with windows wrapping around that sharp edge, the décor lies in contrast. An exposed brick wall with a fireplace, inviting wood floors throughout that inspire me to see where they lead down the hallway, and large, black-framed windows give warmth to the space. The age and character are what I imagine in old New York City apartments and see in Nick’s brownstone. Not what I expected from a mid-rise skyscraper built in the past twenty years. “I like your place.”

  “Thanks,” she says, biting her lip when her gaze scans my body. “I almost forgot my manners. Whiskey and Coke?”

  “Sure.”

  “I think I’ll join you. Feel free to snoop.”

  The heat isn’t lost. It’s still simmering beneath the surface, but all good things come to those who wait. So I wait.

  Standing at the window, I look at her view of the street while noting we’re high enough not to hear any traffic. Not a lot of privacy, though, considering she has windows everywhere. I hear the clink of ice hitting the bottom of the glass, the air escaping the bottle of soda, and then the fizz as it’s poured. “Do people in Manhattan ever close their windows, or they just get used to living in a fishbowl?” I ask.

  “The latter. Most probably don’t even have blinds or curtains. I do in the bedroom but not out here. Why? Do you feel like people are watching you?”

  “Kind of.”

  I feel her next to me, standing so close her arm is against mine. She hands me one glass, keeping the other and taking a sip. Her eyes return from the distance to peer up at me. “What should we toast to?”

  Leaning the edge of the glass to hers, I reply, “To tonight.”

  There are no words spoken but a silent understanding, making me realize we do that a lot for two people who apparently can’t read each other. Taking a gulp, I return my gaze forward. “It’s a nice view.”

  “An exhibitionist’s dream come true.” There’s no glory in the words, almost as if she doesn’t relate. Anymore . . .

  I glance down at her as she sips her drink. “I didn’t know you liked whiskey.”

  She smiles, the heat of the alcohol reaching her cheeks. “I don’t, but I liked the way you tasted earlier.” Seeming to catch herself, she laughs lightly. “Maybe I like whiskey, or maybe I just like the taste of you.” There’s no follow-up shrug or deflection. Tatum stands there, owning her likes and dislikes without regard for judgment or fear of rejection.

  I couldn’t turn away from her if I wanted, so she’s righteous in her stance. Angling closer, I tilt down and kiss her on the forehead. It’s not steamy or frenzied, but it fits the moment.

  Finishing her drink, she saunters back into the kitchen. When I turn back, she’s grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge. “We didn’t eat much. Are you hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  She laughs. “Let’s get you fed then.” Pulling a binder from a drawer, she leans against the counter and starts flipping through the pages. “You can have anything your heart desires.”

  I come up behind her, not subtle, and slide my hands around her waist. There’s no tension in her body, and when she tilts her head to the side, she gives me full access to that graceful neck of hers.

  Simmering.

  Her body vibrates with untamed energy, her breath laden with need just from the simplest touch of her body and kisses placed sparingly on her neck.

  She inhales another jagged breath. Like a mouse, she taunts me, keeping the one thing we want just out of reach. “I thought you were hungry?”

  “I am.” I reach over and close the binder, preferring her hands on me instead. Unlike a cat, I don’t play with my prey. “For you first. Food later.”

  Spinning in my arms, she wraps hers around my neck. “Why do I have a feeling that by later, you mean tomorrow?”

  I lean in again, this time nuzzling her ear and placing a kiss just under her lobe before whispering, “Because you and I both know we’re going to be too busy to bother with—”

  “The essentials like eating and—”

  “We can shower together.” Kiss. “Eat together.” Kiss. Kiss. “Have sex again, and then—”

  “Repeat.” Looking into my eyes, she studies my reaction as if I scare easily.

  I kiss her lips so softly that a breath breaks us apart. “You don’t have to play hostess. I want you, Tatum,” I say against her cheek as I rest my forehead to hers.

  A soft sigh is followed by the whisper of a question. “Why have I been fighting this so hard?”

  “Because you’re scared of the possibility of us.”

  “I’m not scared,” she says with a tremble in her tone. She exhales and then smiles, an assurance taking over. “I just don’t understand where this could possibly lead tomorrow when we live across the country from each other.”

  “We don’t.”

  “Currently. One day, you’ll return to LA. You might already have your one-way ticket home.”

  I caress her cheek, thinking her tough exterior wasn’t built on gentle touch. It’s not taming her wild side but embracing the softer parts of her. “I’m here now.”

  “You say that as if the hero has entered the story and will save the day.”

  That mouth. Fuck, that mouth. I kiss her, embracing her lips with mine, our mouths open and our tongues tangling together. This time, I take charge and pull back under panting breaths. “You don’t need saving, baby. You just need someone else to keep the world from weighing you down for a short time.”

  “Oh, yeah? How do you expect to do that?”

  Running my hands over her rib cage, I continue lower. I like the feel of her in my arms again, being close, and the anticipation of what’s about to happen. The thin material of her black top allows me to feel the side curve of her great tits. “By making you forget you have to. Just for the night.”

  She leans against me, and her hands slide under the sides of the jacket, lowering to my ass. Giving me a good squeeze, she smirks. “Mmm.” Her moan travels straight to my groin and hardens for her to feel instantly, and she does like she fucking owns my cock. She’s owned many of my thoughts over the years, so I admit she owns my dick as well. “How do you feel about mornings?”

  “With you, I’m willing to find out.” I scoop her into my arms under the melody of her laughter and cut through the living room.

  “Last door on the right.” Always giving directions.

  I fly down the hall, not only tired of playing these teasing games but ready to see her naked again. Many nights have been sweat out to the memory of her body writhing under mine, her lips wrapped around my dick, and kissing her sweet pussy until she came so hard that management was called. Fuck me. I need to be inside her again.

  I’m stopped the minute I enter her bedroom.

  “This is where you sleep,” I say like a dumbass.

  She laughs again. “Yep, this is where the magic happens.”

  A growl rips through my chest as the thought of magic with anyone else happening with her brings back that earlier reaction—jealousy. I have no claims to stake. She’s her own woman, but I don’t need to hear about other dates. She lifts and kisses my cheek, and then says, “If it makes you feel better, by magic, I meant my beauty sleep. It takes magic to make me look like this each day.”

  “I beg to differ. I’ve seen you with nothing but the sunrise drifting across your skin, a vision of beauty I’ll never forget.”

  “You don’t have to beg.” The smile softer now. “And stop being so nice.”

  “It’s the way I’m buil
t.”

  Trying to squeeze my bicep, she fails, and says, “I’ve always appreciated your build.” I set her down on the bed and spin her until the heels of her shoes are against my chest. “Ooh!”

  No fucks are given about dirtying my shirt. The view is killer. In the low light supplied by a lamp on the nightstand, I unbuckle the strap wrapped around her ankle and slip the shoe off, dropping it on the floor, and then repeat with the other.

  She props herself up on her elbows, watching every move I make.

  We might have chosen a different topic of conversation to travel, but going back to the thought of her with someone else, I say, “We’ve lived our lives, but in here, when we’re in this bedroom, or any other, together, it’s only us.” Running my hands up the sides of her legs across her smooth and tanned skin, I keep going until my hands disappear under her skirt. Under her heavy gulp, I part the softness of her inner thighs. Her mouth opens, and her teeth dig into her bottom lip. “Okay, baby?” There’s only one answer, but I volley the power into her court.

  “Okay.” She spreads her legs wider, allowing me to go higher.

  “Good girl.” I know how to tease to please a woman. Greeted with lace at her hips, I wrap my fingertips around it and pull down until she’s freed from the delicate fabric.

  I may not be able to see her sweet spot, but I can stroke the soft skin. “What do you want, Tatum?”

  Lying flat, she’d let me do anything I wanted, judging by the trust residing in her eyes. And I just might. But then she says everything I’ve been waiting to hear for years. “I want you, Harrison.”

  10

  Harrison

  “Where do you want me? Be specific,” I say, sliding my finger through her heat, her body already submitting to mine. Coating my finger in the lightest essence, I bring it to my mouth to taste. Her eyes are fixed on my lips, so I take it in and suck it clean.

  Pleasure lifts the sides of her mouth, and she replies, “I want your mouth on me. Down there.” She lifts her skirt, confidence filling her expression. Another challenge laid down as if I won’t jump at the chance to savor her again.