A/N: Mature content. 🏃‍♀️🤪🏃‍♀️

This is not how I thought tonight would go.

By her silence this week, I knew Harper was still pissed off from Saturday night, but one glance at her face showed she was absolutely miserable. She sat on my bedroom's floor with her feet planted flat on the carpet, knees raised, and back rigidly rested against the edge of my bed. When her hands weren't clutched around her cup of wine, they rubbed over her face while she groaned quietly. On the rare moments I saw her face, her eyebrows scrunched together, lips wrenched in a scowl, and her eyes fixated on my locked door like an inmate that plotted their escape plan.

Since tonight was Thursday, every casual 'How was your week'-type question I'd asked her was shut down with short, terse, 'fine' responses, preceded by a huff, eyeroll, or sharp exhale. If I hadn't found her overreactions amusing then I would've felt just as irritated.

I'm trying here but... clearly failing.

At the moment, I felt as clueless as when I'd entered Brentwood Florist on my drive north to UCLA. The damp smell of mixed flowers hit me before the door closed behind me. Since I hadn't bought a girl flowers in fuck knows when, probably my senior year Prom, I was grateful for the older woman's help from behind the counter. She assured me that coral-colored roses meant a transition between friends and more than friends, so I trusted her judgment and bought a dozen of them.

The last time I saw Harper was Saturday night after dinner with Mom. The trail of dust her car tires kicked up as she peeled out of our house's neighborhood was enough of a middle finger. So I gave Harper a couple days of space before I contacted her again on Tuesday.

me: Since game 4 is away and overnight, can I see you Thursday?
me: Dinner on me.

me: I am sorry about Saturday, please let me make it up to you.

Harper left me on read status until around two pm today, but I was pleasantly surprised with her response.

Harper: You'd better.

In between my usual Thursday classes, workouts, and practices, I'd thought about Mom's suggestion that I set my priorities. While I wasn't the most thoughtful guy, I had realized that I'd wasted too much damn time just sleeping with Harper.

I'm in her life now, just need to get inside those defensive mechanisms.

I might have a better chance of winning the California lottery.

Instead of luck, I had stubbornness with a side of stupidity on my side. First, Harper deserved an apology from me for the shit I'd pulled on her in high school and I was damned determined she got it.

She also deserved to be treated properly, but I wasn't sure if she was ready for an actual, sincerely romantic date. I hoped actions that demonstrated good intentions were sufficient enough for a start, rushed home from practice, prepped dinner, and cleaned my room. Since she'd driven over here every time, I'd incorrectly assumed that surprising her with flowers and being her chauffeur was a nice switch.

Couldn't have been more wrong there, obviously.

Kieran's temper dampened my entrance and I'd forgotten to tell Harper how nice she looked. She'd always had a put-together appearance from head to toe but the more natural makeup showcased her bright eyes, narrow jawline, and high cheekbones. While the lower part of me wanted her creamy white sweater and black leggings discarded next to where her brown leather boots sat by my bedroom door, I had specific plans for tonight's date.

I was no Ellie in the kitchen but deliberately planned tonight's meal, which was horribly uncomfortable from our seats on my bedroom floor. Every one of my eleven roommates sniffed their way into the kitchen while I cooked, even Drake, but I chased them out. Since I also promised Harper a quiet, lowkey meal, we sat upstairs in my bedroom with plates on our laps.

Correction, from where I sat with my back against the wall near my desk, I ate while Harper drained her third cup of wine in one loud gulp.

"Slow down." I leaned forwards and grabbed her wrist as she reached for the bottle that sat on the floor between us. My cup was still entirely full, so I picked up the wine bottle and set both on my desk. With a look down, I frowned at her full plate. "Eat too, please."

"Don't tell me what to do," she spat out with a narrow-eyed look. At my raised eyebrows, she just slightly pursed her lips, rested her elbows on her knees, cupped her chin in her palms, and stared right back at me.

"Fuck, you're so difficult." Since she reminded me of my cousin's picky eaters, I pointed at her still untouched plate. "Eat it or I'll feed you myself."

"With what," she taunted with a quiet scoff and dropped her gaze between my legs. An uncharacteristic whine left her lips as she flicked her gaze up to mine, definitely not hungry for what I'd cooked tonight by the suggestion way her tongue wet her lips. "Can we just skip the formalities?"

"No." I frowned, leaned over again, picked up her fork, and stabbed a piece of steak on her plate. Like the bratty child she acted like, I smashed it right in between her lips.

Her light blue eyes widened but flickered with the first spark of life tonight. My pants possibly became strained as her lips parted and she sucked the entire piece off the fork.

"This..." she said between chews, then swallowed. "Isn't bad. You cooked?"

"I cooked," I replied dryly, although my mind silently went in a slightly different direction as I sat down and adjusted myself.

Put the pieces together, firecracker.

After a few moments where the only sounds between us were forks clinked against plates, Harper's eyes shifted down to her plate on the floor and studied the food curiously. By the time she moved it to her lap and crisscrossed her legs, a tiny smirk lifted up the corners of her lips. "Seriously?"

"What?" I feigned innocence, then popped a piece of steamed broccoli into my mouth. Her eyes stayed glued to mine while she chewed a bite of baked potato that tasted more like a potato and less the undercooked, leathery, miniature football I'd made her last time.

"This is the fucked up meal you made in Kicking Horse," she murmured quietly but thankfully ate the last few bites that sat on her plate.

"It was awful." My shoulders bounced a few times with a laugh. "Worst thing I've ever cooked. Your distractions aside, all I cared about was eating you out. But I wanted to give you a do-over tonight."

My words, even with the light-hearted tone I purposely used, struck a chord with Harper. Her frown returned and she set her plate down. With her elbows propped on her knees and chin cupped in her palms, her weighted gaze studied me. "Jake... What are you playing at here?"

"You're one to talk, that little bathroom stunt near my Mom," I reminded her with a raised eyebrow and put down my own empty plate.

"What's that?" My sarcasm earned me one of her hands cupped around her ear. "Didn't hear you complain when your dick was in my mouth. Also didn't expect you to play the full honesty card, bold move."

"It's not always about moves and games," I grumbled as a flash of irritation rose inside my chest like heartburn. "Not for me, at least."

"We both know what it's only about," bitterness soaked Harper's voice as her eyes darkened. "As you also so eloquently told your Mom."

That bothered her.

The thought affected me more than I comfortably admitted. The words, "I lied," flooded out of my mouth before I realized my filter was broken. I wasn't sure why but my hips squirmed in my uncomfortable floor seat, my skin tingled the longer she stared at me, and my feet twitched with restlessness.

Harper sat upright and lifted her chin off her hands. "What?"

"What if I didn't just want sex?" I leaned forwards and crawled on my hands and knees until my face was six inches from hers.

We were so close, I heard the soft breaths she exhaled. Her eyes, more blue than a midday summer sky, brightened the harder I stared into them. Even with a slightly glassy sheen over them, stiffness still in her seated posture, and bitter smell of cabernet wine that surrounded her like a fog, one fact was painfully obvious.

Fuck, she really is beautiful.

The last reaction I'd expected from Harper was that her gaze dropped. In a soft voice, she quietly mumbled, "And what if that's all I can offer?"

"Then I'd say now you're the one who's lying," I murmured and leaned forwards

My lips swept softly across hers, just a whispered touch. With a sharp inhale, my nose flooded with the strong, bitter scent that matched the dry, black cherries and spiced vanilla-based flavor imprinted on her lips. Since she kept them pressed firmly shut, I pulled back just until our lips no longer touched.

Her warm, elevated breaths washed over my next words which, for once, had more than the obvious meaning.

"Let me in, Harper."

The cabernet taste exploded as my mouth covered hers, my tongue moved inside, and found her warm and soft velvety texture. With my hands cupped around the back of her neck, I pushed forwards and pinned her against the end of my bed. Unlike the hard and demanding way my tongue normally stroked against hers, I moved slowly, softly, almost tentatively.

At the faint trembles that shook her shoulders, I broke off and rolled my lips inward at the wine I now tasted but hadn't drunk a drop. "Fuck, Harper you taste like you drank half that bottle."

"All the better to look at you with," she joked and swirled one index finger in an air motion around the circumference of my face.

"I'm definitely not sleeping with you now," I grumbled and moved my knees until I sat next to her. She sat up straighter, but when I bumped her shoulder with mine, her eyes shifted towards me.

"Whelp..." Harper puffed up her cheeks, exhaled with a huff, and palmed her knees. "Thanks for dinner."

As she stood up, one of my hands grabbed hers, where I interlaced our fingers and tugged her back down. "Nice try. I'm not driving you home yet."

"Then I'll walk," she mumbled and tugged back, so I clenched her hand tighter.

"Why are you always so difficult," I grumbled the statement to myself more than her because fuck, her hard exterior was hard to break through.

She surprised me with what sounded like an honest answer. "Defense mechanism." Her shoulders lifted slightly. "Push people away before..."

At the softness her voice faded into, her eyes shifted down to no particular spot on my carpet. With a quick reach over, my hands grabbed her hips, pulled up towards me, and repositioned us so she sat on my lap. Face-to-face, surprise filled her eyes but her knees opened and straddled my hips.

Harper's hands pressed flat into my chest, where my heartbeat quickened and skin warmed under her touch. A weighted sadness replaced her initial surprise, hung in her eyes, and quelled any further physical reactions from me.

A tightness pulled in my chest when Mom's words from Saturday night echoed through my mind.

Be careful... People with abandonment issues are tough nuts to crack.

A small lump lodged itself in the back of my throat while I studied her eyes, one at a time, as the painfully obvious surfaced.

And I was someone who abandoned her.

Both my hands cupped them around her face again. Her eyes took a darker cast over them instead of how clear and bright they normally looked. My thumbs moved on their own and absently rubbed her warm, smooth cheeks.

"Hey..." I mumbled quietly with my eyes locked on the darker threads of blue that weaved their way into her irises. "We don't have to talk about it."

Harper's shoulders visibility sank and relief flooded into her eyes. In a surprising move, she leaned forwards and swept her lips over mine, like she nonverbally thanked me. She still tasted like bitter wine, but her lips moved against mine in a feather-like press of warm skin.

My resolve snapped when the tip of her tongue flicked out and teased the seam between my lips. A groan vibrated up the back of my throat and knocked away that lump of guilt as I moved my hands around to the back of her head. With one gentle yank, I angled her for better access, opened my mouth, and deepened the kiss. With forceful thrusts, my tongue dragged over hers, poked the hard palate of her mouth, even skimmed her teeth.

Warm friction rubbed over my torso and pelvis as she moved closer, until the center seam between her legs rubbed right over the erection that swelled up fast. Harper's exhibition streak, combined with the uncertainty of where we stood, had pulled even my horny ass back a step.

Not anymore though.

I hadn't had a single release since our night in the bathroom and my body reminded me of that with a few warm throbs between my legs. While I wasn't sure how long Harper had gone without release but, her ego power move aside, she hadn't gotten any pleasure from me last weekend.

I shouldn't if she drank though.

"Still don't want to?" she murmured warm vibrations across my lips and rolled her hips against mine again. "Because I sure as fuck need it."

I responded with an upward buck of my hips back into her, which both of us groaned at. Her skin flushed warm as I dragged my lips over her cheek and up the line of her jaw.

"I should return the favor." I teased a soft kiss right under ear, then flicked my tongue out and stroked a short, gentle line down her neck until my chin's descent was stopped by the collar of her shirt.

Harper's only response, other than the goosebumps raised on her skin, were the elevated breaths that hitched her chest. With one lean forwards, her elbows threaded over me and rested on the bed's mattress.

Her giant hickey on the side of my neck lingered for three fucking days and I'd heard shit from every guy on the team about it until it was gone. Thankfully concussion-free, Zach had been cleared for practice, where he'd laughed his ass off and pointed like I'd grown another head. Even his girlfriend Sophia offered that she hid it with makeup, but I declined.

"I walked around campus with a fucking bruise for three days," I mumbled into her neck, then sucked my lips hard on a less visible location. Still, the idea I left marks on her that only she and I knew about flamed my internal temperature up a few degrees.

"That was part of your punishment," was her low-toned, throaty response as I kissed and nipped behind her ear at my leisure.

"Punishment?" My head snapped back and eyebrows shot up into my forehead. "You call giving a mind-blowing blow job punishment? What's next, edging yourself while I come?"

"Pegging," she retorted with a flash of electric blue that gave away her teasing. "If you want."

While Harper's words had a very specific, dirty of course, context, my mind went in a completely different direction.

What I want...

My hands threaded up under the soft cotton of her sweater, stroked up her sides, and pinched her breasts. Not even the smooth, satin fabric barrier of her bra hid the way her nipples tightened the longer I teased them. Her lashes fluttered once, then twice as her lower back arched and pushed her breasts into my palms.

In either a bold or stupid, probably both, move, I redirected one of my hands to the ridged bones in the center of her chest. Warm, wild beats pulsed into my palm as I flattened it right over Harper's heart space.

"What if I want -" I started when her lips smashed hard against mine.

Gone were her earlier, soft movements as the force from how she surged forward snapped my neck back into my bed comforter. Her lips tore into mine with angry, frenetic nips and presses. Her tongue stabbed into my mouth as she shut me up, swallowed my words, or possibly choked me.

She's probably aiming for all three.

Still, I knew angry Harper and my cock, tented hard into the center seam of her leggings, already desperately wanted her. My hand returned to her breast and I squeezed both hard, until her moan vibrated my lips.

My last thread of common sense reminded me of the fact she'd downed three glasses of wine like I choked down Gatorade after a hard workout.

I detached my mouth with a loud gasp. "Are... you... sure?" Like a caveman, I panted into the side of her neck and trailed my fingers down to her sides, where I anchored her hips still.

In one fast movement, Harper's hands lifted off my shoulders, unhinged her bra behind her back, and removed both it and her sweater overhead. As if drawn like magnets, my hands latched onto the warm, soft skin that filled my palms and fanned out fingers. With tiny, rolled movements, the pads of my thumbs worked over her nipples until they pebbled up and hardened.

Harper's only response was a nonverbal thrust of her hips over the erection that now screamed at me for less talking and more naked action. I pinched both of her nipples until she gasped. "I need words, firecracker."

"Fuck, always with talking," she grumbled. "You're not going to hear me beg."

"I don't want you to beg." I threaded one of my hands straight into her pants, past the lace of her underwear, and stroked my index finger over the warm, wet folds that waited for me. "I want you to scream."

Just as I'd expected, Harper's only response was she lifted her hips, then impaled herself onto my finger. Her heated inner walls sucked my finger in down to the hilt, where she grinded and rubbed like I was some fucking accessory.

"Nice try," I murmured into her neck, now pink from how I'd worked over her skin, and pinched my thumb into the sensitive folds near the top of her hood. As her spine stiffened, I drew the same concentric circle over her clit as my other hand's thumb used on her nipple.

When a frustrated, low-toned groan gargled in her throat, my shoulders shook a few times and I chuckled. "Not close enough." I pressed one soft kiss into the side of her neck and withdrew my finger, damp with her pent-up frustrations.

"Fuck you."

A sting and warm taste of iron erupted on my lower lip as she bit down. Right when I rolled it inward and dragged the tip of my tongue over the sore spot, her hands swatted mine off her. My laugh died when she fisted my shirt and yanked it upwards so hard that my neck snapped forwards.

She stopped when the soft cotton trapped my elbows, bent overhead at ninety-degree angles, and all I saw was the dark red fabric.

Oh fuck.

My arms froze when Harper's hands enclosed around mine at the back of my head, where she tied my shirt tight. Right when I snorted because a T-shirt knot wouldn't have held against even a half-assed arm tug, her fingertips rolled up the edge over my chin, mouth, and nose. My lips drew in a deep breath of cooler air, which I exhaled sharply because she left the shirt taut over my eyes, like a blindfold.

The verbal challenge my brain retorted died when her lips ghosted over mine again. The soft, warm contact was almost nonexistent, but that stole away my words stronger than her hard, punishing kisses earlier.

Warm fans of her breath followed, along with a warm pressure as one of her hands enclosed around my throat. If I hadn't been so fucking turned on by the bold moves, then I would've laughed at how her fingers hadn't even wrapped halfway around the base of my neck.

My heart pounded painfully hard in my chest at this point, the veins in my neck and arms buzzed with electricity, and a hot coil of ache rose up in my gut. Four small fingertips tensed right into my pulse point, and her thumb gouged into my throat column.

"I hate you sometimes, Jake. I really do."

Right before I responded, her hand left my throat. A low groan rumbled in its place when her hands roamed all over my now bare torso. With lack of sight, the trails and shapes that her ten fingers drew over my chest were amplified ten-fold. My skin burned like it was on fire. I felt every stroke, push, poke, and pinch she worked my ribs and abdomen over with.

With throbs for release, my cock saluted her efforts from where it strained straight up between my legs. By the time her hands reached my waistband, I willingly lifted my hips and she removed both my jeans and boxers in one dragged movement. My body flamed hot, particularly between my legs, and I groaned when her feet quietly shuffled away.

Right when my arms nearly tugged my shirt off, the sound of one of my dresser drawers opened hit my ears. "Top left," I grunted out in a strained, impatient voice.

After Harper slammed it shut with a bang, the crinkling sound that followed was like music to my ears. I grunted and my stomach clenched when one of her hands wrapped right around my base and the other rolled the rubbery barrier down the tip.

My hands tightened into two tight fists overhead and I squeezed the top of my head with both forearms when the warm, smooth skin of her inner thighs rubbed over the sides of my torso. One of her hands met my shoulder while the other positioned me wherever the fuck she wanted.

With one hard drop, warmth and pressure impaled my cock and I groaned loudly. Sharp stings bit into my shoulders as she lifted up, then dropped down again onto my lap.

"Fuck, I hate you," she cursed and dragged a line of pain from my shoulders down to my chest. I saw absolutely nothing but stings from previous experience told me her nails moved in long, hard strokes. My skin stung from the initial contact, then flamed hot and throbbed long after her fingers moved on.

Her hips rolled in steady, wavelike movements as she rode my lap. Only when mine bucked up into her, her hands stopped. Warmth slapped from her palms into my shoulders as she pinned me down. My gut clenched painfully tight from her torturously slow movements.

Fuck, she really is going to make this painful.

With each stroke, Harper dragged her entrance out to my tip and plunged, hot and deep, until her ass rubbed over my thighs. Only the sounds of labored breaths, mostly mine by the way my lungs burned, slicked contact, and smacks of skin hit my ears.

She only broke the silence when I thrusted up on her timed sink downs. Her voice was quiet, steady, and hit me like a punch in the throat, "What happened with Kieran? What's so bad that the most mellow guy in the world now hates your guts?"

I swallowed hard and just shook my head because there was no way I wanted that subject discussed. Even if we had seen Kieran earlier tonight, I probably needed three glasses of wine before I confessed the beef he had with me.

Even as Ellie's friend, she'd want nothing to do with me.

And I wouldn't blame her.

"Just like I thought. You want me to open up but you're a fucking vault of secrets." A sharp jab, from her index finger I assumed, poked in the middle of my chest with each enunciated word, "You're a fucking hypocrite."

Harper's words hit me harder than her finger pokes, which to be honest wasn't the best feeling either. Each poke sharply prodded the same spot on my chest over and over. I had no argument against her accusation, but she wasn't finished.

"Why do you push me so much," she snapped angrily as her hands clamped onto my shoulders. "Why can't you just let me leave after we fuck? Tell me, Jake."

"Because," I groaned out between harder thrusts that tugged my balls upwards. Through clenched teeth and the dizzying headrush from practically no blood in my head at this point, I gritted out, "I - I... c-can't anymore."

"Can't?" she snarled and smashed down on me. "Or won't?"

"Can't." I bucked up into her so hard that her upper body shifted and both her elbows gouged into my clavicle. By the dampness that coated the bottom edge of the condom and top of my balls, she was just as affected by whatever the fuck toxic conversation we shared.

In between the short, sharp pants I had left in my depleted breath, I added, "And won't."

"Fuck..." Her fingertips clenched down as much as her inner walls, like a hot grip tightened around my cock. With a slight throb, my balls tugged upwards on their own and relief flooded out of me upwards into the condom.

A few hips rolls later, Harper's movements slowed and stopped. Her soft pants were the only sound I heard from her direction, drowned out by how I wheezed like an asthmatic and my pulse thundered in my eardrums.

In an unexpected move, her lips found mine, where she softly pressed a kiss into each corner. Her voice shifted from the angry, pissed off tone she'd used through most of this round to a softer, guilt-soaked tone of voice.

"Because I know you'll hurt me again, Jake."

With a grunt, I tugged my elbows open. After an initial strain against my shirt, the sound of ripped fabric broke out. None of me cared when I tossed the T-shirt onto the floor and sucked in a deep breath.

My room blurred and spun a few times as I shot up onto my feet but ignored the dizzying sensations. With quick movements, I removed the condom, tied it off, and dropped it onto my discarded shirt. Harper's hands reached for her clothes pile and flipped on an internal switch.

She didn't come.

At that moment, only me coming wasn't good enough. I wasn't entirely sure why but my skin burned hot, white dots flashed over my eyes, and my nostrils flared. I clenched my jaw, reached down, clamped a tight gripped her hips, lifted her up, and flung her onto my bed.

A tiny squeak left her lips, quieter than the mattress springs' groan from where she landed on her left side. Her palms pressed her shoulders up and she rolled partially over so that she looked behind her, but I moved quickly and pinned her down. As her blue eyes flooded with brightness, I took in her body as it squirmed under mine. She was flushed pink, sweaty, and had zero chance of escape by how much I outweighed her.

My elbows caged around her ribs and I pinned her hip with mine. With a lean down, I rolled her stomach flat into my bed and practically growled my retribution, "We're not finished."

"Clearly, you are," she grumbled out from under me, dipped her chin down, and looked at the half-flaccid cock I pressed in between the round curves of her ass cheeks. The brightness of her eyes, radiant against her blown out black pupils, directed me back to what I hadn't taken care of yet.

A few strands of her blonde hair stuck to her temples and sides of her neck from perspiration. With my weight shifted slightly onto my left elbow, I wound her hair into a fistful and tugged until she lifted her chin. Her lips parted but her spine trembled and a moan rushed out when I leaned down further and bit down onto her earlobe.

"No." My teeth clamped down again and, as if in full agreement, my cock twitched against her back entrance. "I'm just getting started."

"With what." Her throaty response mixed raw hatred with an indignant challenge, both of which rushed me higher.

A smile curled up the corners of my mouth. "You."