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Our Last Time

Chapter One
Harper

“HARP!” 

I tear my lips off Bryson’s and whip my head toward the storage room door of my clothing boutique. 

“Shit. It’s your sister.” I slip off his lap and reach for my clothes. 

“We’re adults.” Bryson sits there unapologetically with his pants at his ankles and his dick hanging out. 

“I signed a contract,” I whisper. 

“You were eight.”

“So?”

“It was in crayon,” he deadpans. 

“It’s still binding.” I shrug on my jeans. “Get dressed,” I say through clenched teeth. 

“Harper!” Kenna’s voice is closer, and the door handle of the storage room rattles. 

I fasten my bra. “Just a second.”

“Why is the door locked?” 

Bryson doesn’t move an inch, and I’m about to seriously dress him myself. But it’s kind of hard since he outweighs me by like eighty pounds and has at least six inches on me.

“Because she’s fucking your twin brother,” Bryson says. It’s not loud enough that I think Kenna will have heard, but I rush over and put my hand over his mouth anyway. 

He uses his tongue to lick my palm the same way he does when he’s between my thighs, and I strip my hand away, giving him my sternest look. 

He chuckles softly. The man takes nothing serious. 

Which is why I embarked on a friends-with-benefits relationship with him six months ago. It was purely accidental. One of those drunk nights when you wake up the next morning shocked to find the other person in your bed. Except there was no drinking, and right after it happened, I knew I was going to do it again. 

“Are you in there with someone?” Kenna asks. 

“NO!” I shout, probably giving myself away.

Bryson rolls his eyes. I put both hands on his large biceps. Seriously, the guy could take one day off from the gym. I try to lift him up, which is ridiculous, but he acquiesces, standing to his full height, towering over me. He pulls up his pants, and I toss him his shirt before he’s done zipping and buttoning his jeans.

Barely catching my breath, I admire him for a second, fingering my hair to fix the just-fucked look. He is breathtakingly gorgeous, but very unavailable. Everyone in Charmed Cove knows Bryson Dalton will never settle down with a woman. Which is why Kenna would throw a fit if she knew I was one of his conquests. 

“You’re scaring me. Are you being robbed and held at gunpoint? You never lock this door.” She tries the handle again, and I plead with Bryson using only my eyes. 

He blows out a breath and dips his head down to me. This is not the time to kiss, but who am I kidding? I can’t resist the guy. Instead of his lips landing on mine, they rest by my ear. “You owe me big time for this. My place tonight. Nine o’clock.” 

A shiver runs up my back, and I shove him toward the stack of boxes with the new clothing line that just came in for my little clothing boutique. 

“Just hide,” I whisper. “I’ll distract her and message you when you can sneak out the back door.” 

He doesn’t move, so I press on his shoulders for him to go into a crouching position, and just in case, I stack another box on top of the other to hide him.

“Jesus,” he says on a heavy exhale.

“Sorry.” I leave him but rush back, pressing my lips to his quickly. I have no excuse except I’m completely addicted to him. High on a guy I can never have. Sounds about right when it comes to me.

When I slip out of the door, Kenna stands there with her arms crossed and her eyebrows furrowed. “What the hell, Harp?” She takes me in from head to toe, and I smile as if nothing is amiss. As if my pants weren’t just thrown to the side as I straddled her brother moments ago.

“The lock must have been on when I went in there. I was going through the new line in the back. I’m going to have it on display next week.” I walk her away from the door. 

“You have to be more careful when you’re here by yourself.” She keeps glancing back as if she still doesn’t believe me.

“We live in Charmed Cove. Give me a break.” 

Her response is a tilt of her head and a shrug because we both know our town is a small North Carolina town that doesn’t see much crime. Thankfully. 

I keep walking toward my display window, using the pretense that I have to decorate for winter. I straighten out the pretty orange, red, and yellow leaves and pumpkins that will soon be traded out for a Christmas tree and white lights with a lot of red and green. 

“What do you think? I kind of want to do something different this year.”

“What?” Kenna asks, her gaze continuing to look behind her. 

“There isn’t anyone here,” I say. “Trust me.” I feel a little guilty for adding that last part.

“I kind of hoped there was. It would explain a lot of your behavior lately.” 

I climb out of my front window display. “What does that mean?” I lead her outside, and the door chimes as I hold the door open for her to follow. 

She’s reluctant, but she does, and once we’re outside, I finally feel like I can breathe. The smell of her brother’s cologne that’s still in my nose vanishes when the goodness of The Sweet Shop a few doors down wafts by. 

“You’ve been missing a lot.” 

“Me?” I point to myself. “You and Matty just moved in together. I figured you’d want some alone time.”

“I don’t know. You seem different. Like today in the backroom when there’s no one out in the store to watch it. With the door locked. That’s not like you.” 

“Girls, you need jackets,” Lydia Flowers says, walking by with sharp blue eyes directed at us. 

“Hi, Mrs. Flowers,” we both say in unison. 

She offers us a smug smile, holding her coat closed at her neck. “It’s time to change out your display, Harper,” she says. 

“Just getting Kenna’s opinion on that.” I roll my eyes so only Kenna can see me. 

Lydia Flowers is as a nosy eighty-year-old woman who is nice but is the biggest spreader of gossip in our town. I can’t even imagine if she knew what I was doing ten minutes ago. With the thought of Bryson, a flush heats my body. I have to stop. Cold turkey. No more Bryson Dalton for me. 

“Bryson,” I hear Mrs. Flowers say a few feet away, and I startle. 

“Bry.” Kenna follows her line of sight and looks away from me.

I close my eyes, willing there to be some other Bryson Dalton in this town that I don’t know of. 

But proximity is another deterrent to why I can’t quit him. His tattoo shop, Marked, is right next door to my clothing boutique, Wildflower Boutique. In a quiet town when tourist season isn’t thriving this time of year, there are some long days, and we’ve been filling them mostly naked. 

“You better settle down before those looks of yours fade,” Mrs. Flowers says, but from the sound of her voice, she’s just as affected by his beautiful hazel eyes, dark hair with honey highlights that he’s constantly throwing his hands through, and I won’t even start on his muscle sculpted body. 

“That’s what my mom tells him,” Kenna adds because even his mom knows he’s not the husband type of man. “What are you doing?” 

“Nothing. On my way to the gym.”

“Spare me.” Kenna turns back to me. “I don’t understand the working out all the time.” 

“Maybe I have to work off some aggression.” His gaze searches mine out. 

“Well, I’ll leave you kids to it. Coats, girls. You don’t want to get a cold before Thanksgiving.” Mrs. Flowers walks farther down the sidewalk.

I hope she didn’t notice the way Bryson was staring at me. 

“Bye, Mrs. Flowers,” we all say in unison, waving and acting like innocent children. Even if we’re in our thirties now. 

“Aggression? What stress could you possibly have in your life?” Kenna knocks her shoulder to mine. “Right, Harp?” 

The top half of my body falls to the side, but I recover. “Yeah.” My tone is weak and unsure. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” he says.

“Why?” Kenna’s face screws up.

“You have Matty,” he says with a straight face. 

“Are you suggesting that you’re sexually frustrated, and that’s why you have to go work out?” Kenna exaggerates a laugh, her gaze shifting between her brother and me. 

I join in the laughter, so I don’t give anything away, except I’m offended that he’s suggesting I’m not enough for him. 

“Sometimes I have a thirst that’s hard to quench.”

“Ew,” Kenna says, sticking her tongue out.

“What about you, Harper?” He looks directly at me.

“What?” My eyes widen.

“Hasn’t that ever happened to you? You find something you just can’t stay away from?” His gaze glues me to the spot, and my body buzzes because they have the same gleam in them as they do when he drives in and out of me.

I swallow past the dryness coating my throat. 

“No, you’re the only one, weirdo.” Kenna uses language like when we were eleven. “Go to the gym. And don’t forget that you’re bringing the pies to Thanksgiving.” 

“Already ordered them.” He straightens his duffel bag over his shoulder. “Are you coming this year?” he asks me.

“She comes every year since…” Kenna’s eyes search mine out. “I mean.”

I smack on a placid smile. “I’ll be there.” 

“Then it’s a good thing I ordered the blueberry pie.” He smiles, showing a mouthful of white, straight teeth. I’m going to kill him the next time we’re alone.

“And to think most people in this town think of you as a woman chasing playboy, yet you remember that Harper loves blueberry pie. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

If Kenna’s insult hurts him, he doesn’t let on. 

“See you guys then. And Harper, try to keep it down when you’re in your storage room, it’s right next to my office.” He smirks and walks away. 

“Just when I gave him the benefit of the doubt.” Kenna shakes her head. “She doesn’t have to be quiet for you!” she shouts after him. 

“Come on, help me figure out what I should do with this display once December hits.” I tug on the sleeve of her sweater, and she turns my way. 

“Okay.” She positions her hands in the air like they’re a camera lens. 

I love my best friend, she’s my everything, and I refuse to mess up our relationship just because I enjoy getting dicked down by her brother. Today has to be the last time… it just has to be.

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