Open Your Heart (Kings Grove #4) - Delancey Stewart Page 0,47

thinking about where we might do it again too, considering options as I look around that oversized empty mausoleum up there. The big bathtub seems like an option, the master bedroom for sure. Maybe the front porch if the mosquitos aren’t too bad. Don’t you dare tell me this was a mistake, Cam. Because it wasn’t. It was fun, it was good, and if I have anything to say about it, we’ll be doing it again. Sooner rather than later.”

Harper’s cheeks were blazing red and her eyes were glassy. Her hair was falling down around her shoulders, perfectly messy and beautiful, and I realized then how much trouble I’d created. She was standing there, lecturing me about all the places she hoped we might have sex again, and I wished fervently that somehow it were all possible, that in some alternate timeline I could stop worrying about death, stop mourning, and just face forward and live. God, I wanted that, but something inside me made it impossible.

And wanting something didn’t change things.

I stood, still undressed, and parts of my body made it glaringly clear the effect Harper’s words had on me. And I surprised myself. I pulled her back into my arms, and then leaned down, scooping her up like a child with her legs dangling over one of my arms. And I carried her into my bedroom to repeat the mistake we’d just made.

“I thought you were busy being Mr. Regret,” Harper teased, running a finger over my chest as we lay in my bed late that morning after making a couple more mistakes of various kinds.

“You made a very convincing argument.”

“I do have a history of getting my way,” she said, her voice light and calm.

I tightened my arms around her. “You definitely had your way with me this morning.” Light banter didn’t come easily to me. I heard the forced sound of my own voice and cringed, hoping she didn’t notice.

“Why were you running away in the first place?” she asked. “What is it you keep here, locked up so tight?” She tapped a finger against my temple softly.

“Confusion is pulling me apart,” I admitted. “I’m worried about getting close—I told you that.”

“The curse,” she said softly, inviting more.

I didn’t make a habit of talking about feelings. I never had. “Yeah. And guilt,” I said, unable to explain more than I already had why I wanted to keep her away.

“Right.” She looked thoughtful, but she didn’t move out of my arms. She wasn’t giving up.

An unexpected relief washed through me and I felt my resolve loosen at her persistent presence. But behind it was fear. If I got used to this, she would still be leaving in six months.

She moved in closer to my side, pressing herself against me, encouraging me.

“God, I just…” I looked at her, unable to find words to explain anything.

Her eyes met mine and I reached into the amber depths, finding understanding there. “Cam,” she said softly. “That sounds exhausting. And lonely.”

I held her close, listening to the matched beats of our hearts. After a minute another noise interrupted the peace I’d found.

Someone was knocking loudly on the front door. The dog in the front room barked, a surprisingly ferocious sound, considering how exhausted I knew she was.

“We’re not done with this,” Harper promised, hopping out of bed and pulling her clothes on in a hurry. My own clothes were still in the front room, so I retrieved some new jeans from the drawer and pulled on a green T-shirt before going to the front door.

“Dude.” It was Tuck, and now that I saw him standing there, I remembered that he said he’d be driving up. “This place is pretty awesome.”

“Hey man,” I said, and reached out a hand to shake. Tuck ignored it and pulled me into a hug, slapping my back.

“You look like shit, man,” he said, laughing.

I suspected I probably looked a lot better now, after spending my morning with Harper, than I had in months. “Thanks. Come on in.”

Harper had gone over to see the dogs, and she stood now, sunlight angling through the back windows and weaving a glow through her hair. She looked ethereal, and sexy as hell. “Hey,” she called out, friendly as ever.

“Hey now,” Tuck said, drawing himself up taller and sauntering over to where she stood, his Australian accent suddenly more pronounced.

An ugly feeling of possession rose in me and I pushed it away. “Harper, this is an old friend. Tuck.” I waved a