Fantasized by You Read online

  She laughed and rolled her eyes at me. “Yeah, thank god.”

  We ate in silence for a few moments, watching TV and occasionally smiling at one another. Once we finished breakfast, I moved the tray back over to the nightstand, and we lay back down together. Her head rested on my shoulder and I curled my arms around her waist, resting my hands on the small of her back.

  “Thank you for breakfast,” she said against my lips, pressing her perfect tits into my chest. “Even though I didn’t get my fruit.”

  I laughed and then captured her lips with mine. “You’ll get your fruit, miss.”

  She laughed and pulled away from me, running her hand along my jaw. “Seriously, though, last night and this morning were amazing. I … I wasn’t expecting to …”

  “To what?” I asked.

  “To fall for you so quickly,” she said, her dark brown eyes searching my face.

  “Well, the feeling’s mutual, baby,” I said, and she smiled. She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me deep, our tongues tangling with one another, sucking and tasting the peppermint coffee. She tugged on my bottom lip, and I rolled her over onto her back and ground my hips into hers. She moaned into my mouth, and I brushed my lips against hers, soft and slow, exactly how I thought she wanted us to go, but then her hips bucked up against mine, and I took us deeper, kissing her harder, imagining my cock sinking into her at the same time my tongue sank deeper into her luscious mouth. I couldn’t get enough of her. She was every bit the woman of my dreams, and I had her right here in bed with me; I never wanted her to leave. I was already addicted to her and we hadn’t even had sex yet.

  Sex with her was going to be the death of me.

  She came up for air wearing a satisfied smile on her bruised lips, and I relaxed on top of her. Her legs wrapped around mine as she ran her fingers through my hair. “I think it’s my turn.”

  “Shoot.”

  “What’s your favorite movie?”

  “Fight Club. What’s yours?”

  “Sweet Home Alabama,” she replied.

  “Of course it is,” I laughed, rolling my eyes.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she scoffed, tilting her head to the side.

  “Nothing,” I said, pressing small kisses against the side of her mouth. “You’re from the South and you’re a fashion designer. It just makes sense.”

  “Oh, I thought you were making fun of me,” she laughed.

  “No. Now, if you had an accent, I would make fun of you,” I teased, moving my lips down her neck.

  She giggled and started running her nails down my bare back. “Your turn.”

  “What’s your biggest pet peeve?”

  “Being late,” she answered with a sigh. “I always have Imani arrive early to everything because I hate being late.”

  “I take it Imani’s your driver?” I asked.

  “Yeah, she doubles as my bodyguard. I’ll introduce you to her today.”

  I tensed at the thought of her needing a bodyguard. What the fuck did she need a bodyguard for? “You have a bodyguard?”

  She laughed and sat up a bit so she could lean against the headboard. “Imani can be quite scary when she wants to be. I got a bodyguard when I became more well-known. Some fans can get a little crazy.”

  “You have crazy fans?” I asked, completely thrown. I’d heard of musicians and actors having batshit crazy fans, but never a fashion designer. Part of me was relieved she had someone watching over her, but the other part of me wished she didn’t have to worry about crazy fucks.

  “I’ve had a few stalker fans,” she said nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders. “And I’ve gotten letters from one of Max’s fans threatening me because she thinks Max and I are a couple, even though we’re not.”

  “Who the hell is Max?” I asked, leaning up on my elbows.

  She laughed lightly and shook her head. “He’s just a friend. He used to model for me back when I first started, and then he moved on to acting. He just got his first big role in some Marvel movie. He has a premiere in Paris at the beginning of February he’s asked me to go to with him.”

  “And he’s just a friend?” I sneered, sounding a lot more jealous than I wanted to, but fuck, he was an actor. Every woman wanted some Hollywood chump.

  “Yes,” she said, reassuringly. “He’s the one who got me into rehab. He’s like a brother to me.”

  Okay, so he wasn’t a chump.

  “Does he know that?” I asked, raising my brows at her.

  “Yes.” She gave me a quick peck on the lips and smirked. “You’re kind of hot when you’re jealous.”

  “I’m not jealous,” I scowled, shaking my head. “I just don’t like the idea of someone else’s fans giving you a hard time. That worries me. I didn’t know you had, or even needed, a bodyguard. Have you told Max about it?”

  She sighed and ran her fingers along the ink on my arms. “Yes, and I have a restraining order on her. I’ve told him he needs to do the same.”

  “Why hasn’t he?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I think he likes the attention. His celebrity status is still pretty new, so I think he enjoys all the attention from his fans, even the crazy ones. This particular fan thinks he and I are dating, and she’s obsessed with him. She has been since he modeled. It doesn’t help that the media is always questioning our relationship status. It’s annoying. It’s the one aspect of my career that I absolutely hate.”

  I sighed and laced our fingers together. “The lack of privacy would be really hard.”

  She nodded. “I’ve been thinking about taking a hiatus from designing for a while.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. When I saw how happy Carter was with Elly, he pointed out how I could be just as happy if I focused more on my personal life and less on work, and now, here you are.” She lifted our interlinked hands to her mouth and kissed them. “I’ve only ever had relationships that were in the spotlight and I don’t want that with you. It’s not that I don’t want people to know about you. I just—”

  “You want your privacy,” I finished, nodding. “I get it, and I don’t want the spotlight either. Your celebrity status has nothing to do with how I feel about you.”

  “Thank you,” she said, kissing my forehead. “That means a lot to me. I think after Fashion Week next month, I’m taking a break. I want to help out as much as I can with Elly and Carter’s wedding and throw a bridal shower for her. I also want to focus on mentoring at the clinic.”

  “What exactly is Fashion Week?” I’d heard Paige babble on about it before, but I never really knew what the hell took place. I understood it was a week full of fashion here in the city that fashion people from all over the world went crazy over. That’s all I knew.

  Harper smiled back at me and sighed. “Well, Fashion Week happens twice a year; once in February, once in September. This February, the fall and winter fashion show will take place—”

  “But winter’s almost over.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “I know, but the February show is for the upcoming fall and winter—for the fall and winter of 2014. Then the September show is for the upcoming spring and summer for 2015. So, last September—September 2013—the spring and summer show for 2014 took place. Now, we have the fall and winter show for 2014 happening next month. The shows happen before the seasons so you know what’s in style.”

  “That’s so confusing,” I said, shaking my head.

  “I know,” she said with a hint of laughter. “So, basically, each designer has a specific date and time for their show, and lots of buyers and celebrities come out to see what they have to offer for the upcoming season.”

  “I see,” I said with a nod. “So, do you already know when your show will be?”

  “Yep, it’s the morning of the thirteenth.”

  “And is that something a boyfriend would have to come to?” I asked teasingly.

  “Um … well, I mean, you don’t—”

&n
bsp; “Harper, I was joking.” I leaned over to kiss away her nerves, and then I laid my forehead against hers and smiled. “No matter what we are, I wouldn’t miss it.”

  She sighed contently. “It might be the only show you get to see for a while.”

  “Well, then I’d be happy to be there for you.” I kissed her once more and then rolled off her and leaned against the headboard. She reached for my hand and linked our fingers together again.

  “My turn,” she said, continuing our trivial banter. “What’s your biggest pet peeve?”

  I thought about it for a moment. “Well, I’m not a fan of being late. It’s actually one of the things about Elly I can’t stand. But my biggest pet peeve would be lying.”

  “That’s understandable,” she said, leaning her head on my shoulder. “Nobody likes being lied to.”

  “I know.”

  “I promise I’ll never lie to you,” she said softly, tightening her grip on my hand. I knew she meant it just by the simple fact that she’d been so honest with me thus far, but hearing her promise it meant a lot to me. I grew up listening to my dad lie to my mom and me all the fucking time. I couldn’t have a girlfriend doing the same thing.

  “I know you won’t,” I said, caressing her face. “You proved that when you told me about your bulimia. And you know I won’t lie to you because I don’t want to be anything like my dad.”

  She kissed my shoulder and batted her eyelashes at me—a look from her that instantly became one of my favorites. “Your turn.”

  “What’s your favorite holiday?”

  “Ooh, that’s a hard one. There’s something special about every holiday,” she said, pursing her lips. “I’d have to say Christmas. What’s yours?”

  “Halloween.”

  “See, that’s a good one, too! I love getting to dress up.”

  I smiled, figuring she’d probably had some kickass Halloween costumes. She was a designer after all. She could probably turn a potato sack into a masterpiece.

  I felt her move beside me and watched as she sat up and stretched her upper body, arching her back and stretching her arms above her head. Fuck, she was the sexiest woman I’d ever seen. I quickly readjusted myself, hoping she wouldn’t see the hard-on I was sporting just from watching her stretch her beautiful body. I couldn’t wait to have her underneath me, stretched out and moaning as I pleasured the hell out of her. She had a body I could spend forever loving and still not get enough of.

  She gazed back at me smiling and then took her hair down and combed her fingers through. I couldn’t stand the thought of not touching her any longer, so I moved behind her and took over untangling her hair for her. I breathed in the scent of berries from whatever hair stuff she used and trailed kisses down her neck. “You smell so fucking good. Like berries or cherries or something. Whatever it is, it’s addicting.”

  She laughed a little and leaned back into my chest. “It’s my shampoo and conditioner. They have a berry scent to them.”

  “Well, don’t ever switch brands,” I said against her neck.

  I started sucking on the patch of skin behind her ear. A shiver ran through her and she leaned her head to the side to give me better access. “Mav …”

  “Hmm?”

  “That feels good,” she sighed.

  “Good,” I mumbled as I continued. She had a long, lean neck I could spend days devouring, making me want to see more of her. I trailed my hands down her arms and when I found the hem of my shirt she had on, I pushed it up so I could see the flat of her stomach. Her tanned body was warm beneath my touch as my hands traced over a small tattoo on her hip. “What’s this?”

  “It’s from a poem I like,” she said, covering my hands with hers.

  “What other tattoos are you hiding underneath my clothes?” I asked suggestively, wanting to see more of her ink. I’d seen some of her tattoos while I massaged her the other day, but I was more focused on not jumping her while she lay naked on the table than on assessing her ink.

  She pushed the covers down with her legs and bent her left leg to show me her ankle. “I have an arrow here.” She straightened her leg and brought her right foot up. “The five words in the chorus of “Let the Drummer Kick” by Citizen Cope are here.”

  “That’s a great song,” I said.

  She nodded and let go over my hands to push my shorts down to reveal a flame tattoo on her right hip. “This is a Tennessee Williams quote made into a flame. I also have a Wendell Berry quote on my right shoulder blade, and a Maya Angelou quote on my right bicep.” She pushed the right sleeve of my t-shirt up, revealing the quote with a bird tattooed next to it. “And then I have my half sleeve, and “serenity” here.” She turned up her wrist so I could see the cursive ink. “So, eight tattoos total.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever get any more?” I asked jokingly. People with tattoos always wanted another; the obsession never stopped.

  She smiled and turned to face me. “What do you think?”

  I grabbed her face and kissed her mouth hard. “I think I like you.”

  “I think I like you, too,” she said, cheerily.

  Good, I thought. I’d never understood what people meant about love at first sight or any of that bullshit. I’d never even been in love before. Elly tried explaining it to me after she and Carter got engaged, but I didn’t really believe her then. I sure as fuck believed her now, though, because what was happening between Harper and me felt different from any relationship I’d had with any other woman in my life. She was just more. And, for the first time in my life, I wanted more.

  *

  After spending the morning together asking each other more questions, Harper’s phone rang sometime around noon. I couldn’t tell who she was talking to, but I watched as she set her purse on my bed and gathered her clothes from the night before. Even though it was Sunday, she probably had shit to do, and I had basketball plans with the guys around two. Still, a part of me didn’t want her to leave; the part of me that felt like a lovesick sap.

  She ended the call and sat on the edge of the bed. “That was Imani. She was just wondering why she hadn’t heard from me yet today.”

  “Did she think I kidnapped you?” I asked, amused. I put on a shirt and shorts to play basketball in.

  “No, she wanted to know if I got any booty last night,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  I choked out a laugh and stepped into sweats and tennis shoes. Imani and I were definitely going to get along. I walked over to Harper, ran my hands through her hair, and then lifted her face so she was looking up at me. “Why didn’t you tell me you were supposed to get some last night?”

  “Because I wasn’t!” she insisted, laughing. When she composed herself, she grabbed my forearms and nuzzled her head against my palm. In a soft, uncertain voice, she said, “I thought we’d take it slow. I mean, if that’s okay with you.”

  My gut clenched at the thought of taking things too fast with her. I didn’t want to wreck things with her before they’d even had a chance to start. I squatted down so that I was eye level with her. “Hey, we can take it however you want. Slow is perfectly fine with me. When we’re both ready, it’ll happen, and then we’ll both get some booty. Lots and lots of booty.”

  She laughed again and shook her head. “Where have you been all my life?”

  I shrugged. “Probably at the gym.”

  “Ha, cute,” she said, looking down at herself. “I need to change out of your clothes.”

  I reached for the hem of my shirt, silently asking for her permission to remove it myself. She lifted her arms, and I pulled the cotton over her head, and my heart stopped when I saw the sexy lace bra she had on. It was a cream color and it looked incredible against her tan skin. I dropped the shirt to the floor and ran my finger under her bra strap, watching as her nipples hardened at my touch. My mouth watered at the thought of sucking her into a pleasurable state of euphoria. God, her tits were fucking perfect. “I like you in lace.”

  She blushed slightly a
nd stood up. “Then I think you’ll appreciate what’s underneath the shorts.”

  She wiggled out of my shorts and revealed a matching lace thong. She stood before me in nothing but her bra and panties, and I had to remind myself that we were taking things slow—torturously slow. I skimmed my hands along the lace waistband of her panties, thankful for the couple of layers I had on so she couldn’t see the raging hard-on I had pressing up against my shorts.

  I cleared my throat and took a step back from her. If I didn’t stop touching her, I was going to do something stupid. I grabbed her jeans and handed them to her. “You better put these on.”

  She laughed and quickly slipped into the clothes she came over in. It didn’t matter what she had on now; all I saw in my mind was her in lace lingerie, and the only image that’d be able to override it would be seeing her completely naked.

  “Well, I should probably get going,” she said, picking up her purse. She threw her phone in and reached for my hand. Walking together, hand-in-hand, she stopped at the door to my apartment and asked, “Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?”

  “The guys and I are meeting up at the gym in a couple hours to shoot some hoops. What about you?”

  “Paige and Tessa are coming over some time this afternoon to help plan Elly’s bridal shower,” she said.

  “That will be fun,” I said with a nod.

  She wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed a soft, slow kiss to my lips. “Thanks again for letting me stay the night. That was really sweet of you.”

  “Let me walk you down,” I said, holding the door open for her.

  We rode the elevator down to the lobby in silence. I couldn’t wait to get to the gym to work out all the pent-up sexual energy I had running through my veins. Normally, I’d just jerk off, but I couldn’t do that when I was meeting up with her brother in a few hours. That felt all sorts of wrong. I needed an hour or two before hoops to work it all off. We stepped into the lobby holding hands, and I saw her black SUV waiting for her outside. I pushed open the doors and hurried her over to the vehicle to get her out of the freezing cold.

  Standing on the sidewalk, I helped her climb into the backseat before leaning in to kiss her good-bye. I heard a throat clear and looked toward the front of the vehicle. Sitting in the driver’s seat was an African American woman who looked like she was in her mid-thirties. She looked small inside the big vehicle, but the expression on her face said she had everything under control.