The Sweetest Thing Read online

Quentin nodded. “Let’s try shavings on the top,” he said as he stood up, moving to exit the room.

  Harper shook her head and laughed. “Can I come with you?” she questioned, “or would I be in your way?”

  “No,” he said, tossing her a look over his shoulder. “Come on down.”

  Following him to the commercial kitchen Harper watched as Quentin pulled two clean tasting bowls from the dish tray and proceeded to prep two new desserts. He mixed toasted almonds with flour and butter and flattened out two small rounds that he popped into the hot oven. This time he shaved large flakes of dark chocolate into the bottom of the bowl, layered the baked crisp on top, and added additional shavings of chocolate. The banana cheesecake came next followed by the raspberry sauce, almond slivers, and more chocolate shavings. It was a beautiful dessert and she could feel his excitement as he dropped onto the wooden stool beside her, lifting the large spoon to her mouth.

  “Better?” Quentin questioned, his stare locked on her face as she savored the second bite.

  She nodded. “Sheer perfection!”

  Quentin pulled his own spoonful past his lips and grinned. “Yeah, that is good if I say so myself.”

  As Harper drew her index finger around the sides of the bowl a second time, Quentin eyed her steadily. He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. Unable to resist, he wrapped his own hand around hers, feeling the warmth and softness of it against his palm. Harper gasped ever so slightly as he drew her fingers one by one into his mouth. He sucked one, slowly, then another, until each had been anointed by his tongue. As he nibbled on her pinkie a soft smile of approval came to her luscious lips.

  Harper blushed brightly, her breathing beginning to labor. It felt as if her heart was trying to beat a pathway out of her chest. The T-shirt and shorts she was wearing did little to hide her body’s reaction as her nipples stood erect and she could feel her panties becoming damp. Dealing with his own body’s reactions, Quentin subconsciously licked his lips in anticipation.

  He dropped a hand against her knee and gently stroked it. Harper jumped ever so slightly feeling as if she’d been touched by a hot torch. The heated sensation swept through her muscles and each one quivered for attention. Quentin leaned forward then hesitated, meeting her stare. Her bottom lip trembled ever so slightly as she leaned in to him, allowing her mouth to meet his. The kiss was soft and gentle and brief. Quentin closed his eyes and sighed softly.

  Harper leaned in a second time. This time the kiss was more urgent, the passion rising as she opened her lips ever so slightly, allowing his warm searching tongue to enter and tangle with her tongue. They both tasted sweet, like the sugared dessert they’d just shared, hints of banana and chocolate between them. She moaned and he moaned with her as both his hands gripped the sides of her face.

  Quentin traced his finger across her profile, over her cheeks, her nose, each of her eyelids. Where his fingers led, his mouth followed with a damp trail of kisses. Every bit of her tasted like sugar and he suddenly couldn’t get enough. Harper suddenly gripped his wrists, stalling the path his hands were determined to make over her body.

  “What are we doing?” she whispered, as she breathed heavily.

  “You know what we’re doing,” Quentin whispered back.

  Her head waved from side to side as he continued to kiss her, his lips and tongue hot against her flesh. “We shouldn’t . . .” she murmured as he captured her lips again, kissing the words from her mouth. “Quentin, we can’t . . .” she murmured more softly as she pulled away from him, coming up for air.

  He nodded as he cradled his forehead against her neck. Harper slid out of his grasp, easing her body from his. She continued to shake her head from side to side. “I should go back upstairs,” she said as she took a deep breath. “You need to get back to work.”

  Quentin bit down against his bottom lip as he let her go, watching as she headed toward the back stairwell. As she reached the door, he called her name.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you really want me to stop?” he asked as he met her gaze. He moved slowly in her direction and as he drew closer Harper began to ease her way backward up the stairwell.

  “Quentin, we can’t,” she said as she took the first step and then the second.

  He repeated the question, taking each step with her. “Do you really want me to stop,” he murmured again, this time grabbing the hem of her T-shirt to stall her. He moved up on the stairwell with her as he slipped his large palm around the curve of her hip, to press it against her lower back. The gesture threw her off guard and Harper felt herself tripping backward against the carpeted stairs. Quentin fell with her, gently easing both of them down. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered.

  Harper gasped as she felt his lips touch her neck. She felt her pulse quickening, her body responding to the soft whisper of his breath on her skin. She gasped, his name rolling off the tip of her tongue. “I want you, Quentin,” she blurted as he slipped his hand beneath her T-shirt. Harper arched her back as she felt his fingers gently running over her skin. She had no bra on and his fingers easily found the rock-hard nipples, stroking and pulling at one and then the other. She felt him tracing his tongue up her neck to her ear, gently biting the soft tissue. She could hear the desire in his breathing and wanting dampened the fabric of her panties. She was wet and she lifted her face to his, inviting his tongue back into her mouth as she kissed him. The kiss was heated, tongues battling, lips searching.

  Quentin’s hands ran the length of her back, easily caressing every inch of her skin as he pushed her top up and over her head. He lifted himself up enough to pull his own T-shirt over his head so that they were both topless. He dropped his torso back against her, anxious to feel her skin hot against his own.

  Harper pushed her hips forward, her need growing by leaps and bounds. She spread her legs as he settled his pelvis between them, grinding against her as he wrapped her limbs around his back. He was hard as concrete, the length of his erection cradled tight against the crest of her crotch. Quentin felt her nails graze the flesh along his back as he pumped himself against her, over and over. The sensation of silk and cotton and heat against their flesh had them both dizzy with lust. He wanted to be inside her and then it dawned on him that he had no protection. His breath suddenly caught in his chest and he gasped heavily.

  Reluctantly, Quentin pulled himself from her, his body hovering above hers. He grabbed for the railing to steady himself, one knee resting between her thighs. Harper stared up at him, reaching one hand out to press against his broad chest. She could feel his heart beating like a steel drum against her fingertips. Perspiration beaded his brow and his face was tinged a deep pink.

  “What’s wrong?” Harper whispered, her voice husky.

  He shook his head. “Nothing,” he whispered back. “Nothing at all.” He smiled. Moisture had pooled between the cleavage of her breasts and Quentin trailed a finger through the dampness. “You are the most beautiful woman in the whole wide world,” he said, the sincerity of it moving Harper to smile with him. “I want to make love to you but . . .” He paused.

  “We don’t have a condom,” Harper finished for him, the predicament having already crossed her mind as well. “And we’re on the stairs,” she said with her warm laugh. “And we still have another four, no, five months to go!”

  He nodded, his hands still trailing over the lines of her body. “Harper,” he said, calling her name sweetly. His eyes closed for a brief moment before he opened them to lose his senses in the look she was giving him back. He suddenly shifted her, spinning her over and onto her knees. Harper crawled to the next step and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing the heat of his erection against her backside.

  He whispered into her ear and she felt herself melt beneath each word. “I need you,” Quentin said, his voice hoarse. “I need to touch you,” he said as he pulled her hard against himself, one hand snaking past the waistband of her shorts to settle between her thighs. He touched her
and Harper felt the rush of heat implode deep in the center of her core. Quentin’s fingers tapped at her clit and it throbbed in response. He kissed the spot behind her neck and with his free hand he cupped her breasts beneath his hot palm.

  With the other hand still fondling her he continued to grind his hardness against the soft curves of each butt cheek, humping his body with a vengeance against hers. Harper was on sensory overload as his fingers sneaked between her slit and over her clitoris, her silky wetness coating the tips. She moved her hips in rhythm with his fingers and the bulging erection that rammed over and over against her buttocks.

  “Come for me, baby,” Quentin whispered and that was all it took. Harper’s orgasm erupted like a volcanic explosion over his hand, every nerve ending exploding with pleasure. Quentin heaved himself against her once and then a second time and blew in his pants, riding the torrent of heat that came in heavy waves, pulsing deep and hard as dampness seeped down his leg.

  Spent, Harper dropped forward on her face and Quentin lowered himself against her. As his breathing evened he pulled his fingers from her pants and hugged her tightly to him. They lay there for a few good minutes until the stairs were no longer comfortable. Turning in his arms Harper kissed him one last time then eased her body from beneath his and headed up to her room.

  12

  Harper woke to breakfast in bed, Quentin holding a tray in his hands as he entered the room. Sitting upright against the pillows, she stretched up and out, easing the tension out of her muscles. She smiled brightly as she swiped the remnants of sleep from her eyes.

  “Good morning,” he chimed easily, leaning to kiss her forehead.

  “Good morning to you. I could have come downstairs,” she said.

  He grinned. “I know but it wasn’t necessary. I thought I’d spoil you a little bit.”

  “A girl could get used to this,” she gushed.

  “I’m hoping my girl does,” he said with a quick wink of his eye. He set the tray over her legs and dropped down onto the bed beside her. “How’d you sleep?” he asked.

  “I slept well. I wish you’d been able to come get in the bed with me.”

  Quentin laughed. “I don’t think that would have been a good idea.”

  She smiled brightly. “You mean what we did on the stairs wasn’t a dream?”

  “Who did what on the stairs?” Quentin teased, tossing a look over one shoulder and then the other. He suddenly turned serious. “Speaking of the stairs, are you okay with what happened between us? I know I should have stopped but I wanted to pleasure you. Pleasuring you pleasured me.”

  Harper sighed as she leaned back against the pillows. “We both needed the release. Think of it as us standing at the line and we stuck a toe over but didn’t really cross it.”

  “I think we crossed it, Harper.”

  “Grinding and fondling don’t count,” she said as she reached for one of the ripe red strawberries on her plate.

  “Is that what you plan to tell our daughters? That it’s okay for little boys to fondle and grind against them because that doesn’t count?”

  Harper’s strawberry stalled midair en route to her mouth. She met the look he was giving her, his eyebrows raised in question.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Quentin said. “Just answer my question.”

  She paused in reflection still staring into his eyes before she answered. “I plan to tell our daughters that they need to protect everything that’s precious until the right man comes along. I will tell them that little boys will never have their best interests but once the right man has her heart then everything else will fall into its proper place. And then I will tell them that if they ever have any doubts to run it by their daddy.”

  He smiled.

  “Of course, if that doesn’t work I can always tell them that their daddy fondled and grinded against me but it didn’t count.”

  Quentin chuckled warmly then leaned to kiss her, strawberries and morning breath tinting her lips. Harper lifted the tray from her lap and moved it to the other side of the bed. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You make me happy, Quentin. I don’t imagine anything being different in four months, six months, or one year from now, other than I’ll be even happier. I don’t regret what happened. And I can only begin to imagine where you and I are going from here.”

  He cupped her chin with his fingers, lifting her eyes to his. “I know this is right, Harper. I feel it,” he whispered and then he kissed her one last time before heading back to work.

  File folders upon file folders were strewn around the large conference table. Troy stood at the head of the table plodding through papers in search of something he knew was there but just couldn’t put his fingers on. He dropped the documents in his hands down and blew a heavy sigh. Undoing the buttons on his shirtsleeves he pushed them past his elbows then pulled at the collar, loosening it and his necktie. He was just about to refocus on his search when he looked up and saw Rachel rushing past the conference-room door.

  “Hey,” he called, concern rising in his tone. “Rachel! Is everything okay?”

  He heard the tap of her high heels come to an abrupt stop in the hallway and he called out to her a second time. “Rachel!”

  Rachel did an about-face and moved back to the conference-room entrance. She poked her head through the door. “Hey, what’s up?”

  Leaning against the table Troy eyed her warily. “I should be asking you that. Is everything okay?”

  She nodded, taking a deep breath. “Everything’s fine.”

  He gestured for her to join him in the room. Rachel rolled her eyes and pursed her lips, annoyance like bad makeup across her face. She moved into the room and dropped down onto one of the leather chairs. Clearly, she was not a happy camper. Disheveled, her hair was wild, the thick curls spiraling past her shoulders. Her face was flushed and she’d misbuttoned her blouse, the garment looking like she’d slept in it. Troy knew instantly that something wasn’t right. He continued to stare at her as he eased into the chair at her side. Rachel struggled to avoid his gaze, color rising in her cheeks as embarrassment swept through her.

  “Don’t you have court this morning?” he finally questioned.

  Rachel took a quick glance at the clock on the wall. She cleared her throat. “Mediation for the Strand v. Harris case at eleven. I need to get a shower and change. I just left the gym,” she said as she brushed a strand of hair from her face.

  “You went to the gym?”

  She cut a quick eye at him. “Yes, the gym. Can’t I go to the gym?”

  Leaning back Troy crossed his hands together in his lap. “It’s your lie, tell it any way you want to, counselor. But so you know,” he said as he waved his hands in front of her, “this isn’t a pretty look for you.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes, her lips pushed into a heavy pout.

  “So, really, what’s going on with you?” Troy asked.

  Rachel rolled her eyes a second time and bit down against her bottom lip. “Nothing! There is nothing wrong with me.”

  “Okay,” he said, “since you usually don’t lie to me twice in a row I guess we’re just going to have to do this another way.”

  “Troy, really, I need to go get ready and I don’t have time . . .” she started.

  Troy snapped. “Make time.”

  Rachel took a deep breath, lifting her eyes to his for the first time since she’d entered the room.

  Troy leaned forward in his seat, clasping his hands together. “I agreed to partner with you because you’re an excellent attorney. I’ve always trusted your judgment, and your reputation, for the most part, has been impeccable. Now, I overlooked the issue between you and my brother because all of us knew from the start it wasn’t going anywhere.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Rachel retorted.

  Troy tossed her a look. “Uh, yeah, we did. The day you and Quentin announced your engagement Pop said there would never be a wedding. He told me and he told Quentin. And he was right.”
/>   “I don’t see what this had to do with anything.”

  “Pop said there would be no wedding because your heart was someplace else.”

  “I’m sure at the time that he was talking about my career. You know I was focused on finishing my law degree and starting this practice and . . .”

  Troy flipped his hand at her, stalling her words. “How long have you and Dwayne been in contact with one another?”

  “Dwayne?”

  “And why did you feel it necessary to tell him about Harper? And whose idea was it for him to buy the bakery? Are you two back in a relationship?”

  Clearly flustered by the questions being thrown at her, Rachel moved to her feet and paced the floor. “I don’t know what your problem is,” she snapped. “It’s an extremely lucrative proposition and Dwayne’s intentions are good.”

  Troy nodded and an uneasy silence billowed between them. He stood up and moved to her side. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders he hugged her tightly. Rachel tensed at first and then she relaxed into the embrace, the weight seeming to lift off her shoulders. Troy’s last words pierced through her spirit.

  “We’ve been in this game together for far too long, Rachel. Growing up together made us family. Bottom line being family means we look out for each other. So, I would not be looking out for you if I didn’t tell you what is on my mind.”

  He took a deep breath before he continued. “You need to think about what you’re doing, Rachel. You can’t keep playing these games believing you’re going to come out on the winning side each time. And you can’t keep playing games that affect other people’s lives. You’re too smart to be taking the risks you’ve been taking lately. So, be smart. And if things are out of hand and too much for you to handle, ask for help! Understand?”

  Rachel nodded her head into his chest but said nothing. Troy held her for a good while as tears flowed from her eyes. Minutes later he pointed at the clock. “Get your shower and please, remember you’re representing our business.”