Defender (Seattle Sharks 9)

I completely got it.

“Agreed.” How could I not? The most competitive woman in the world just agreed to come in second for me. “What else do you have?”

“I agree on the honesty. If you lie to me, I’m gone.” She folded her arms under her breasts.

I kept my eyes on her face. Barely.

“Absolutely.” I nodded. “Next?”

“You can’t ask me to marry you. I think you Sharks take longer buying a new car than you do jumping into marriage, and we both know I’m leaving.” She stared me down like a teacher with an unruly pupil.

“Hey, I don’t think we…” I thought about it. Connor, Porter, Eric, Lukas. Huh. “Okay, maybe you have a point there. We do jump in pretty damn fast. Maybe we’re just good at knowing what we want.” And I wanted her. In the last few months she’d addicted me to her particular brand of sunshine, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to cope when she took it away. But that being said, I wasn’t going to pop the question to a girl I’d only been dating for a month.

“Nathan,” she warned.

“Agreed,” I said with a grin. “Anything else?”

She nibbled her bottom lip and nodded.

“Are you going to tell me? I mean, we’re on a roll here.”

She crossed the distance between us until her hands cupped my beard-roughened cheeks. Then she shocked the hell out of me by climbing onto my lap, straddling me.

My dick jumped at her proximity, even though I reminded myself that we were having a serious conversation. This absolutely wasn’t the time or place to think about her breasts pressed up against my chest, or how her thighs tightened around me. Nope.

“Harper?” I asked, my voice pitching way higher than I wanted it to.

“That last rule you have?” Her fingers tunneled through my hair, and mine gripped her hips.

My eyes widened with realization. This could either go really well or really poorly.

“The one that says I’m the only one who gets to fuck you?” My grip tightened, my pulse quickened, and my dress pants were really uncomfortable.

She ground her hips over me, and I hissed. I was normally cool with it, but right now I hated the asinine rule that we had to wear suits to and from the airport.

“That’s the one,” she murmured, her eyes on my lips.

“What about it?” I was crazy about this girl, but if she thought we were going to have one of those non-traditional, open relationships because she’d never been in a committed one, I was going to lose my shit.

One of her hands swept along my neck until she gripped my tie.

“If you’re the only man who’s allowed to fuck me, then I’m the only woman you’ll be fucking.” She yanked on the tie.

I take it back, thank God for that suits-from-the-airport rule.

My mind went blank for a second, trying to compute that she’d just said fuck as a verb. Twice. A verb I really wanted to use right now.

“Nathan, I’m serious. I’ve seen how girls wait for the buses, and the elevators, and hotel room doors. I won’t share, either. I refuse.” She pulled on the tie again, bringing her mouth just above mine. “Even if it’s just for these few months, you’re mine.”

“Agreed.” I gripped her ass and rocked against her, savoring her gasp.

“Really? Promise?”

“You’re the only woman I want, and it’s been that way for months. I haven’t even looked at another woman since we started working together, let alone traveling together. Besides, why the hell would I want another woman when I have you in my hands?”

She slammed her mouth down on mine in a kiss that instantly enveloped us in a rush of heat and need. Clothes hit the floor, hands groped and stroked, tongues tangled and teased until we were both panting, desperate for each other.

A roll of the condom later, she lowered herself onto me, taking me inside her wet heat until her ass hit my thighs.

“Holy shit, you feel good,” I moaned.

“Nathan,” she begged, rocking forward.

“Take what you need.” I gripped her hips as she started to ride me.

She took me with long, sure movements and swirls of her hips that had me clenching my teeth to keep from coming. She was wild and all the more beautiful for it. My fingers found her slippery and swollen when I reached between our bodies to stroke her clit.

And when she tensed, her body going rigid, and her movements slowing, I grabbed her waist and held her while I thrust us both to completion, our mouths still joined in a ravenous kiss.

Minutes later, she lay sprawled on my chest, our heartbeats both returning to normal, when I blurted out, “Come home for Christmas with me.”

“What?” she squeaked.

“You heard me. Come home. Meet my mom and dad, avoid Nixon—he’s an ugly asshole, anyway.”