BLOOM
Nolan
I DIDN’T JUST GET WHAT I wanted.
I got more than I could have imagined. Definitely more than I deserve.
After everything that’s led to this night, it seems unfathomable to end up here, dancing with Harper under shifting lights and feeling like I just won a prize I didn’t deserve. The crash that tore through my life. The years I spent dreaming of ways to kill her. The countless hours of hatred that consumed every thought. She’s dismantled them all and led me into another life. It might have taken a while for me to understand, but she’s always been my guiding light.
And tonight, Harper Starling is luminous.
She laughs like I’ve never heard her, not even in the videos from her past before the horror of Harvey Mead’s house. We dance in the crowd. She holds my hand. Spins away. Reels herself back into me. She’s right—I like to think I’m not a bad dancer, but she’s better. Sometimes light and musical. Others, seductive and spellbinding. Sometimes funny, or goofy, or mysterious.
Always sexy. And always mine.
“I think he might have a necrophilia kink,” Harper says above the music, her lips grazing my ear. She pulls away and nods toward Henry, her eyes sparkling. The guy is hammered, dripping with sweat. He’s feeling the music with one of his corpse creations. It’s really just a head and torso, but he’s gyrating with it as though he might fuck it right there on the dance floor.
“Jesus.” Henry slides the corpse down his hairy, exposed chest, his head tilted back as he howls out the lyrics to “Sexual Healing” by Marvin Gaye.
“It really makes me question how he made all that money for the new boat
with the off-season corpse sales,” I say. Harper grins, pressing her body into mine. The look that she gives me is sly and knowing. “What are you smiling about?”
“I like that you know these things about Cape Carnage,” she says as the song changes to something slower, and I lead us away from Henry and closer to the edge of the crowd. “It feels like you belong here.”
I think she’s right. I do.
Every day, I’m becoming more and more a part of this place. One of its people. And the world outside is just a strange dream that seems to disappear behind the fog that so often descends upon this town. Maybe that should be worrying, like I’m succumbing to a mirage in a horror film that’s about to show me its hidden teeth. But when Harper runs her hand down my chest and sways against me, so warm and alive in my arms, I find I just don’t fucking care.
“I want to go home,” she says, her eyes fusing to my lips.
“Thank fuck for that.”
I kiss her deeply. We slow to a stop on the dance floor. The music, the voices, the flash of lights—it all fades away until all that’s left is Harper. Her delicate scent of aromatic herbs in the summer sun. The caress of her tongue.
The taste of tequila on her lips. And I don’t give a shit what anybody thinks as I lift her from the planks of the floor and then sweep an arm beneath her knees to the sound of her laugh. I carry her out of the barn and into the night where the mist on her skin shimmers in moonlight. I think about that first night at the Ballantyne River, how beautiful she was in the lantern glow.
Back when I’d tried to convince myself I couldn’t possibly want her, the woman I had come to kill. But I think I knew it even then. That there was no escaping her orbit.
We catch the bus back to town by ourselves, jammed up next to each other on a seat, Harper’s hand wrapped in mine and no words shared between us.
Bobby drops us off in front of the cottage, the lights Harper left on glowing through the thick foliage in the garden beyond the stone wall. I don’t know why, but for the first time in a long time, I feel a pang of nerves. Like it means something different to come home with her tonight. And the way she darts a shy smile over her shoulder when she unlocks the door makes me
wonder if she feels the same way.
But that theory evaporates the moment that door is closed behind us.
She rounds on me, pushing my back to the weathered oak as she takes my face between her palms and claims me with a kiss. I’m bewitched. She’s never felt so free in my hands. There’s always a part of her that’s tense, ready to flee or fight. But this time, it’s as though a key has been turned in a hidden lock and she’s let a piece of herself loose.
“Jesus, Harper,” I hiss as she kisses and bites a path down my neck. She grips the two sides of my shirt and yanks them apart with surprising strength, buttons pinging across the floor. She giggles, landing a harder bite to my hammering pulse. “You’re going to make me come in my pants like a fucking teenager with that attitude.”
“Why do I find that so hot?” she says, gripping my raging erection. I shudder and groan as she grabs my belt and tugs me closer. “Maybe we should go upstairs.”
“I don’t think I can make it that far.” My kisses grow desperate. I take a step, forcing her back into the living room with the intention of tossing her down on the nearest piece of furniture so I can ravish her body and fuck her
senseless.
“Too bad for you then.”
Suddenly, her heat and touch are gone. It takes my lust-addled brain a second to process that she’s running away in a fit of giggles. “You’re so slow, Ballmeat,” she calls as she starts taking the stairs by twos. “I’m getting
away—”
“The fuck you are.”
I chase after the sound of her laughter. It goes silent when I’m halfway up the stairs, but it’s a small cottage with few places to hide. I know she went in the direction of her bedroom, so I slow my steps and take my time when I set foot on the landing.
“You love asking for trouble, don’t you?” I say, sauntering into the bedroom. There’s no immediate sign of Harper, no giggle or whisper of ragged breath. I walk farther into the room, heading for the bed I’m sure she’s hiding under. “Gotta admit, Meatball. It’s pretty tempting to fuck you so hard you can’t sit down for a week when you’re bratty like this.”
When I take another step, there’s a creak behind me. I turn just in time to see the bedroom door slam behind a cackling Harper.
But she’s not getting away this time.
I’m out the door and on her in a heartbeat, my arm catching her around the waist to raise her from the floor. She squirms and laughs in my grip, and I dig my fingers into her ribs as I pull her into the guest room with me. I toss her on the bed. Turn her over. Catch her wrists and trap her beneath me. Her eyes are shining and wild, her smile wide. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. I’ve never loved anyone more.
“You’re really bad at hiding,” I tease, pressing her wrists harder against the mattress.
“I am not. You didn’t know I was behind the door.”
“I still caught you in about two seconds.”
“Okay, fine. You got me, Murder Daddy.”
I bark a laugh, the sound setting off a light that dances in Harper’s gunmetal irises. “Jesus Christ,” I groan. “Please tell me that’s not what you write in a diary somewhere. ‘Murder Daddy pierced my nipples today.’ ‘Murder Daddy fucked me on a clandestine grave.’”
“That sounds pretty hot, actually. Maybe I’ll finally take up journaling.”
Harper’s smile softens. Her eyes shift between mine. Pink cheeks. Swollen lips. An openness to the fear I still see in her, like she can’t escape it, but she’s at least willing to let me see how deep it goes. “What I said tonight . . .
I’ve wanted to tell you for a while,” she admits, breaking her gaze away.
“After everything that’s happened, it’s hard not to be afraid it will be taken away.”
“I know. And I will not let that happen.”
When her focus returns to mine, it doesn’t waver. “I believe you.” Harper reaches up with a tentative hand, placing her hand over my heart. “I’m still afraid. But I love you.”
I’m sure she feels it, the stutter in the rhythm that she captures with her touch. The corners of her lips lift in the faintest smile. She starts to pull her hand away, but I press it back to my chest. “I love you too,” I whisper.
“You’re not afraid?”
“No, I’m Murder Daddy. I don’t feel fear.” I grin as Harper rolls her eyes
and laughs. But my smile fades when her attention dissolves into something more serious. “Of course I’m afraid, Harper. Every minute of every day. I’m afraid of fucking this up. I’m afraid of the outside world finding you. I’m fucking terrified that you haven’t taken up swimming lessons. I’m going to buy you sessions at the pool, for fucksakes.” Harper’s brow furrows, despite my attempt at a joke. She wakes me from nightmares too often to not know that I dream of her drowning every night. I lower myself onto my forearms, taking up the space in her field of vision. “I already lost you once, and I’ll never forget what that felt like. But I’m more afraid of the time I would miss with you if I didn’t risk the fear.”
I watch her just long enough to see my words settle into her expression.
And then I press my lips to hers.
Harper melts into the kiss. Runs her hand down my neck, down my chest, pushing the shirt from my shoulders until I break away to quickly shrug it off.
She coasts her fingertips across every line of muscle. Traces every scar, as though those marks are worthy of worship. And when she’s ready, she gently rolls us both over until she’s straddling my hips. She stares down at me, dragging the straps of her dress over her shoulders. The sweetheart neckline falls down enough to reveal her nipples, the titanium bars and opal balls shining in the dim light.
“So perfect. Like you were made just for me,” I whisper as she takes my hand and guides my fingertips where she wants them. Against her lips for a kiss. Along the pulse in her neck. Down her throat. Over the ridges of bone beneath her skin. Across one piercing and then the next until my erection aches beneath her weight and heat.
“Do you know how much I need you, Nolan?” Harper says as she drags my fingers down the center of her body. “How badly I want you?” She guides my hand to her thigh, then up beneath the hem of her dress. “How much I love you?”
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to hearing her say that.
Harper lifts her hand away and spreads her legs wider. I trace the edge of her lace panties. She jolts beneath my touch when I circle her clit beneath the soaked fabric. I take in every hitched breath and every tremor in her body as I press a little harder, swirling my touch over her sensitive nerves.
I manage to tear my fingers away just long enough to raise my hips and shimmy my remaining clothes off with her help, and then Harper bundles the skirt of her dress with one hand, pulls her panties aside with the other, and
sinks down onto my cock.
I’ll never forget this moment.
The feel of her heat wrapped around me. The pace of her rolling onto me like waves. The rise and fall of her breasts as she moves. The love in her silver eyes.
I rake a hand into her hair and draw her down closer. “My god,” I whisper as I let my gaze trail over her face. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
An adorable blush climbs her neck to settle in her cheeks. She rocks her hips, taking me deeper, her breath a tremor in her chest. “You know what I thought when I first saw you?” she asks. I’m tempted to say something ridiculous—something about ballmeat, maybe, but when she rolls her hips again, I momentarily lose the ability to speak. “That you were obscene.”
My burst of a laugh becomes a moan as Harper kisses my neck. “Obscene . . . how sexy.”
“It is.” She lets another kiss linger on my neck as her gentle touch coasts just beneath my eye. “Those beautiful eyes are obscene.” Her finger trails down my cheek. “Those fucking dimples are obscene.” She traces my jaw.
“This fucking jawline that could cut glass is obscene.”
“So you’re saying you liked me right away.”
“Maybe for a few minutes, until you left presents in my bird feeder.”
“Hmm,” I say before plunging my tongue into her mouth. She rakes sharp nails down my chest and I thrust up into her before breaking the kiss. “I think
you still liked me after that.”
“Cocky.”
“I saw the way you looked at me at the river.”
“Like I wanted to kill you?”
“Just a little bit,” I reply. “But maybe for you and I, hate and love were always two sides of the same blade.”
Harper slows for just a breath, going still. It’s the first time in my life I wished I could stop time. Sheathed by her body, surrounded by her scent, basking in her radiant warmth. The world and all the things we worry about
could just disappear. And I wonder if she feels the same. Like maybe we can’t stop time, but can stretch it. Build a life here together made of moments just like this. A relationship that blooms in defiance of the conditions in which it started.
She leans down. Presses her lips to mine. And then she moves.
Her rhythm is steady. Long, rocking strokes, her hand braced on my abs, her eyes locked to mine. Words aren’t needed anymore. I can see everything she feels written in her furrowed brow, in the flush of her skin, in the glow of sweat on her collarbone. Just like she feels everything in me. The obsession in my unerring gaze. The reverence in my touch as my hand folds around her throat. The need that shudders through my body as she glides over my length.
Harper’s motion grows a little more desperate, her moans come a little louder. I graze a hand up the length of her thigh until I’m pressing my thumb to her clit, providing the last pressure she needs to send her spiraling into pleasure. She whimpers. Her back bows. I tighten my grip around her throat, capturing every rioting beat of her heart. Her pussy clenches around my cock as she comes undone. She keeps going, keeps rocking against me as she
claims every moment of her unraveling.
And then I fall into rapture after her.
Maybe the euphoria of release shouldn’t feel any different than it has all the times before. And yet, somehow, it does. When I spill into her, there’s a connection that I’ve never experienced with anyone until now. It’s more than a physical sensation. It’s as though a new layer of a bond has unfurled between us. I was prepared to love Harper without knowing if she could love me back. I’d accepted that I might never hear the words pass her lips. I didn’t think it mattered. But it does.
Harper collapses onto me and we stay like that for a long while, recovering our breath, grazing our fingertips across each other’s sweat- slicked skin. And then I take care of her, like I always do. We go to sleep in our bedroom, wrapped in each other. And the next morning, that feeling that something has changed still remains, as though it’s been burned into me.
This is the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. I’m going to make sure of it. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her.
I know what I need to do.
When Harper heads to the manor house, I leave the cottage and walk into
town.
My town.
