Can You Handle It (Naughty Bedroom Collection)

“Why are you smiling so hard?” Chelsea asked.

“No reason,” I said. “You can stay here as long as you want. I have to go meet my client.”

“Seriously?” She frowned. “Why do I feel like everyone in my life is doing things without me?”

Because they are.

F*R*I*E*N*D*S

Tyler

Harlow rolled over in the Grand Hotel bed the next morning, her dark hair tousled all over her head. Twice, in the middle of the night, she’d climbed on top of me for sex, and I’d pushed her over the edge both times.

Early morning pancakes, beer, and a dip in the rooftop hot tub happened in between, and I never wanted to let her go.

I wanted this every weekend, and I wanted us to make up for years of lost time.

“Hey,” she said, smiling as I smoothed her hair. “I need you to tell me one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Way back when, when we used to binge watch TV shows, nothing was there. Right?”

I smiled. “What are you trying to ask me?”

“Something simple,” she said. “Last week, I beat your doorman at his TV show trivia quote game and he said that you once told him about a woman who used to beat you in the game all the time. He asked if I was that person.”

“Once again, what are you trying to ask me?”

Her cheeks flushed red. “I’m asking if you were attracted to me when you were a minor, to make things a little easier for me to swallow.”

“Your swallowing skills are phenomenal.”

She blushed again.

“I’ve always had a crush on you,” I admitted, “but I didn’t think I had a chance in hell to get anything more than a conversation. Did I have one back then?”

“Not at all.” She laughed. “But I did think that you were a very good kisser on the night that you invited me inside your dorm room.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

“Didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

I smiled. “Good decision.”

“I’m not looking forward to telling Chelsea about us.” Her tone suddenly changed. “I don’t think she’ll be okay with this at all.”

“Maybe.” I pulled her on top of me. “I wouldn’t worry about that now. She’s consumed with the wedding.”

“I know, but—” She looked into my eyes. “I’m feeling really guilty, so can we discuss the ‘when’ later?”

“Depends on how many times you come for me.” I kissed her, trying to kill that line of conversation, but she pulled away.

“It’s still just been sex,” she said. “You were right about me not being able to handle that.”

“It’s been very good sex.”

“You know what I’m trying to say.”

“I really don’t.” I sat up. “Enlighten me.”

“If we’re potentially going to crash and burn—

“We won’t.”

“I still want the dates, texts, long conversations …”

“We do all of those things, Harlow. You’re the one who demands the sex beforehand most of the time.” I noticed her biting her lip. “That part is on you. If you think it’s me, would you like to get up and grab some breakfast?”

“After a few more rounds.”

“I thought so.”

Dangerous Waters

Harlow

If there was ever a moment that made me want to tell Chelsea about me and Tyler—that it was turning into more of a relationship than just sex—it was right now.

“Everything is falling apart, Harlow…” She cried over an early afternoon FaceTime call. “My mom is acting like this is just any other wedding. The caterer and cake designer cancelled on me for some big-name celebrity, and I can’t get a hold of Tyler for more than a few seconds at a time. You’re the only person I’ve been able to reach today.”

Pangs of guilt assaulted my chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know you’re busy helping a client in Portland this weekend, but I could really use your help here in Seattle. Even if it’s just for an hour or two.” She sniffled. “Is there any way you could come back for a quick lunch tomorrow?”

“Absolutely,” I said, nodding. “But right now, let’s call around and get you a new caterer and cake designer.”

“Really?” She wiped her face with her palm. “You mean that?”

“Yeah.” I sat down on the edge of Tyler’s bathtub. “Fifteen calls each, and we’ll chat again in half an hour and handle the next thing. Can you do that?”

She nodded, and I ended the call.

When we finished taking turns with our phone calls, Chelsea had a shortlist of renowned caterers and four cake designer appointments for Tuesday.

While she was listing things she wanted me to bring back from Portland, Tyler stepped into the bathroom.

Naked, he crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side.

I motioned for him to walk away, but he simply smiled.

“Can you hear me, Harlow?” Chelsea said. “Hey Harlow?”

“Sorry.” I looked away from Tyler and back at my phone’s screen. “The TV just showed a competitor’s commercial.”

“Oh, don’t ever worry about that. Your gallery is the best in the state—well, the country, and it always will be.”