Salvage Him (Highland Park Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  "I'm Harrison." He extended his hand.

  My hand disappeared in it.

  He gave me a firm shake and held it. "What's your name?

  When he didn't let go, I looked up into his eyes, and a chill ran down my back. I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

  It was those eyes again. They rendered me catatonic.

  His hand pulled me closer as he leaned in.

  I placed a hand on his abs to push him away, but when I touched the immovable force, BAM, a chill hit me again, and I stopped breathing.

  He must have felt something too. He exhaled and looked down at our hands.

  "Wow," he whispered and dropped my hand.

  I held in a whimper from the immediate loss and turned back to my table. I could feel his presence behind me. Not physical, but no less powerful and consuming. I exhaled myself.

  "Brooklyn," I said and reached for the handle of my suitcase.

  "Brooklyn."

  God, the way he said my name.

  His tone pleaded for me to turn around.

  "I really need to get set up here." I didn't recognize my own voice.

  "Can I help?" He reached around and brushed his fingers over mine. Of course, I would have the book labeled bedroom in my hand.

  I stifled a giggle. Harrison, in my bedroom, didn’t cross my inappropriate mind at all.

  I rolled my eyes at myself.

  His powerful aura, for lack of a better term, felt familiar. Not that I had been near him before, but I knew his type. He commanded everything around him. His being alone demanded your attention and devotion.

  I shook the thought out of my head.

  "I've got it covered," I said with more confidence than I felt.

  He sighed.

  The disappointment rolled off his body and engulfed me.

  I’d disappointed him.

  He was displeased with me.

  I shook it off again. I had no allegiance to this man. We had never met before.

  And oh, by the way, Brooklyn, you're married.

  Harrison

  Thank God for quick reflexes, or she would have fallen on her perfect round ass. When I had helped her up, she melted under my touch. I felt it; I'd felt it before. When she'd touched me, I wanted to pulled her close, to touch her and feel her body against mine, on purpose this time.

  After staring at me and taking me in before, she wouldn't look at me now.

  "I'm going to have a look around. Let me know if you need any help," I said as my gaze took in the large space. The size of the house wasn't uncommon in Highland Park, especially with new money moving in. The house was a cement shell; it would take a lot to make it feel full.

  She turned around.

  I stopped.

  She bit her lip, and her eyes darted around as if she was afraid to look in my eyes again.

  "What do you think of the place?" she asked.

  I walked back toward the opening where the door should be and turned around. The stairs were on the left. The rest of the first floor was a big open space. A hallway to my left went on forever. If I remembered the plans Justin showed me, it led to the master bedroom.

  "It's massive.” I nodded.

  "Yeah, that's what I thought," she said and pushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

  "It's not a bad thing, but it makes me wonder about the people who are going to live in it," I said and tilted my head.

  She narrowed her eyes.

  "I mean. If it’s just two people, are they thinking about the future, kids, grandkids, social gatherings, family? Or are they avoiding something? A lot of empty square footage between two people."

  She blinked and gnawed on her lower lip.

  I wanted to pluck it away from her teeth, so she didn't hurt herself.

  Fuck, what did I know?

  She opened her mouth to speak.

  "Hey, good morning." Justin stepped into the house balancing a tray with six paper coffee cups and a brown and pink box. A smaller bag dangled between his teeth.

  "Hey J, let me help you," I said.

  "Nope, I got it. It’s all in how you balance." He headed toward the table and set down the refreshments. He leaned over and hugged Brooklyn with one hand. "Brooklyn, it's good to see you. I see you've met Harrison." Justin looked back at me. "What do you think of our new client here? She has some fantastic ideas, right?" Justin pointed at Brooklyn.

  "We haven't gotten that far yet," Brooklyn said as she turned back to her table.

  Seth and a couple of other men entered the house. Justin went to greet them. I moved to the other side of the table from Brooklyn.

  To her credit, her light brown cheek developed a tinge of red as she smiled up at me through her long eyelashes.

  My heart thumped in my chest, and it pushed away my embarrassment. I was sure it would hit again later when I recalled with horror my behavior.

  "New client?" I whispered.

  "I'm sorry. I should have said something." She leaned in.

  "Nah . . . I practically seduce all my new clients. It's my ice breaker."

  "Oh, well, if that's the case, well done. It worked. Ice broken." She made a flared motion with her hand.

  I laughed.

  She joined me.

  My heart raced again. She was beautiful. Her shoulder-length brown hair appeared real. Her smile lit up the world. Her ass, epic, and her skin was the tone of my favorite wood stain color.

  Okay, I might be making that last one up.

  If it wasn't before, it was now.

  She stood confidently with a hand on her hip as she waited for the others to join us.

  "Brooklyn, you know Seth. This is Brian and Nathan, plumber and painter respectively." Justin made the introductions.

  Nice to meet ya,” she said.

  She smiled and shook each guy’s hand. If they were shocked that our new client, Mrs. McIntyre, was a twenty-something African American with a New York accent, they didn't show it.

  "Let's take a tour of the house, and Brooklyn, you can chime in if you've made some decisions about the décor these guys can help with," Justin said.

  "I have all the color schemes, fixture ideas, and woodwork done." She held up one of her binders. I peeked at the spine and found each one labeled a different room in the house.

  "Wow. You are organized," Seth chimed in.

  "I have to be." She scanned the sixteen-foot ceiling in the entryway.

  I regretted sharing my opinion of her big house. From what Justin and Seth had said about her husband, the latter was probably true.

  Justin led us through the house, and Brooklyn followed. We started on the second floor in the theater. Brooklyn spoke, and we all made notes. When we reached the game room, Brooklyn turned to me. "I want to add a built-in entertainment center and an entire wall of custom bookshelves."

  I nodded and scribbled some ideas in my notebook.

  She had the sexiest little accent, but she discussed the house like it was a job and not her home.

  While Justin and Nathan discussed color schemes, I peeked into the backyard at the structure across a walkway.

  It was a two-story guesthouse. The top floor had glass walls on three sides.

  "Harrison." Justin said.

  I turned back.

  The whole room stared.

  I had missed something. "Yeah, sorry. What was that?" I asked.

  "Can we add exposed beams in the ceilings?" Brooklyn asked.

  I looked up at the vaulted ceiling. It should have been done prior to this stage.

  "Yeah, we can figure something out," I said. I didn't want to disappoint her.

  She nodded, and we moved on.

  When we headed outside, Brooklyn stopped in the study to grab another book and followed us to the guesthouse. We bypassed the first floor and walked up the stairs. The sun warmed the room. As we entered, a smile spread across Brooklyn's face.

  Justin had the same face. He had a thing about windows.

  "I want to get the gu
esthouse finished first." She handed a folder to each of us. "The first floor, simple hardwood floors, small kitchenette, bathroom with a shower stall."

  We all nodded as we flipped through her detailed design.

  "This room, hard wood floors and furniture, that's it." Brooklyn presented the room to us with a hand gesture, her chin high, her shoulders back.

  My eyes grew wide, but I smiled back. Her confidence made me proud.

  "Uh, yeah. Okay." It was my turn to blush. "We can discuss it in more detail after we finish up here."

  Justin shook his head.

  "I think we just have the entryway and the master suite to discuss," Justin said to no one in particular. He headed down the stairs.

  Brooklyn followed.

  I remained in the room, loving the warmth from the light pouring in. I closed my eyes and pictured her in this room.

  She stands with her coffee in one hand, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun with a pencil stuck in it. She bends over her drafting table that I construct, wearing a t-shirt, one of my t-shirts. Her ass peeks out as she reached across the table to make a note or finish a sketch.

  I walk up behind her and press my cock into her ass.

  She squeals under my touch.

  I grab her hair, not worrying about pulling out anything that didn't belong to her. I bend her over the table and order her to stay. She whimpers and struggles a bit, but when I slap her ass, she calms and purrs. I smile and call her my pretty little kitten. I peel those panties off her perfect ass and tease her with my tongue as I push my shorts down my legs. My cock is hard, and I'm not teasing her any longer.

  I ask her one question.

  "Are you ready for me, kitten?" As she opens her mouth to answer, I shove my cock in her tight little pussy, and we cry out. It feels so good. I fuck her hard until she screams.

  No. Purrs.

  "Purr for me, kitten." I fuck her until she purrs.

  Five

  Brooklyn

  As we walked through the house, it was eerie. Harrison was tuned into to my thoughts because he was on my mind, too.

  I was flattered by the attention.

  When we returned to the main house, Harrison wasn't with us.

  Get a grip, Brooklyn.

  Harrison and his presence turned my body on. I didn't realize how much I missed those feelings—the quickness of breath, the shiver down my spine, and the loss of words when someone looked at you a certain way.

  All the sexy feelings didn't push away the guilt.

  "I think we have all we need for right now," Justin said.

  I shook away the thought and nodded.

  I shared a few more notes with Nathan about the paint and said goodbye to everyone.

  I gathered my laptop and headed back to the guesthouse. When I found Harrison measuring the floors, I wasn't surprised.

  "Hey," I said.

  "Hi," he said but didn't look at me.

  I watched him for a few seconds. For a big guy, he moved with control and grace. The fluidity of his movements impressed me.

  "You know I have the measurements. It's in the plans," I said.

  "Yeah, well"—he knelt down on one knee in a corner—"it doesn't hurt to measure twice. Some things aren't always what they seem."

  “I’m really sorry." I dropped my gaze to the floor. "I didn't mean to deceive you."

  "Dangerous game to play for a married woman," he said.

  "Excuse me?" My stomach fluttered.

  "Nothing." He waved me off like I was an annoying kid. He ran his hand down the frame of the window. "What were you thinking for this room?"

  He squatted and dropped to the ground. He pulled a rolled-up t-shirt out of his bag and laid it out on the floor. He crossed his jeans-clad legs at the ankles, positioned his laptop on his thighs, and patted the t-shirt.

  I stared with my mouth opened.

  He raised his gaze.

  My throat hitched as the swirling blue in his eyes focused all their power on me.

  I licked my lips and gnawed on my bottom lip, not sure what socially acceptable human response was appropriate in the setting.

  Brooklyn, say something.

  "You okay?" he asked.

  I held my stomach as it rumbled. I wished I had grabbed one of Justin's donuts.

  "Yeah." It came out throaty and nowhere near normal. I cleared my throat. "Yeah, sorry."

  I sat next to him with my back against the wall. My legs clothed in black leggings crossed at the ankles. I opened my vision book for the studio/office on my lap. I flipped to the furniture section, still not saying a word. I ran my hand down it and looked over at him.

  He watched me.

  When I settled, he reached over and slid his hand underneath the book. The back of his hand to graze my thigh.

  I stifled a moan.

  Why is my body reacting to this stranger?

  He pulled the book onto his lap.

  "Your sketches are impressive." He adjusted his legs and continued to flip through the book.

  Keep your mind on the job, Brooklyn.

  "I want simple furniture with clean lines. Desk, two chairs, drafting table with book stands on either side like this." I reached over, and my arm brushed up against his. This time, I wasn't surprised by my reaction. It was altogether inappropriate but not a surprise.

  I slid the book off his lap and stood up. I rubbed the dust off my ass and stepped back a few feet.

  "Um, so that should get you started," I said, my eyes darted around.

  "Well, maybe you could come by my studio, and I can show you some ideas," Harrison said in a tone way too seductive.

  I opened my mouth. My body screamed, when, where, and what should I wear, Sir, but my mind, my right mind, took another approach.

  "Or you know, you can email them to me." I let out an audible side of relief.

  Harrison laughed.

  "Harrison." My tone sharp and clipped.

  "Brooklyn." He mimicked my tone.

  I tried to slam the book closed, but it flipped out of my hand and dropped to the floor.

  "Shit." I squatted to retrieve the scattered pages.

  Harrison appeared at my side. I stopped in mid-grab when his scent hit me.

  "Here, let me help you."

  I stood up fast and took two steps away from him. My head swam.

  He retrieved my papers, organized them back in the book, and handed them back to me.

  I could watch him move all day.

  A grin spread across his face.

  He knew what was going on in my head.

  I was attracted to this man. No, beyond attracted. I was ready to forget my vows for this man.

  "Brooke, baby doll. Where are you?" A squeaky voice I recognized came up through the stairwell and doused the heat in my body.

  As if my declaration didn't make me feel guilty enough; apparently, it had the power to conjure my husband into existence.

  Harrison's smoothness disappeared. He scrambled to stand as Paul skipped up the stairs.

  "There you are. How's my girl?" Paul asked.

  "Hey." I crossed toward the stairs and leaned my cheek up so Paul could kiss it.

  It was our routine.

  He paused before kissing me. He spotted Harrison across the room. Instead of the usual kiss on the cheek, Paul turned my face and landed a sloppy kiss on my lips.

  I recoiled away from him.

  Paul held my face with one hand and punctuated the kiss with a little slap on my ass with the other.

  I pulled back and glared.

  "What are you two doing up here?" Paul asked.

  "This is Harrison Crawford. He's doing the woodwork in the house. Built-in bookshelves, some furniture, stuff like that." I motioned toward Harrison.

  "Okay. That sounds fine." Paul walked over with his hand outstretched. "Paul McIntyre."

  "Harrison. Nice to meet you." Harrison took Paul's hand and shook it firmly.

  Paul had to look up at Harrison, but he
maintained eye contact as he shook back.

  "You too." Paul walked around the room. He kept one eye on Harrison and one eye on me. "Well, why don't you two fill me in on what else you have planned for my house."

  I cringed as he used the word my. I shook my head and looked over at Harrison.

  He glared at Paul. The scowl on his face told me what he thought of my husband.

  We made our way back to the main house, and I showed Paul my plan for the game room.

  "The exposed beams in the ceiling will give it a medieval effect, which will be a neat contrast to the modern—" I pointed up.

  "Beams in the ceiling," Paul interrupted and chuckled the condescending laugh he had perfected when addressing me. "Why? We already tore down the dungeon."

  "It will go with my ideas for the furniture in the room."

  "No." Paul sauntered up to me. "You sure this job isn't too big for you? I want the place to look elegant. Be a show piece."

  "It will be." I hated the sound of my voice. The high-pitched tone came out when Paul treated me like a two-year-old.

  I avoided eye contact with Harrison. He stood a few feet away in a protective stance. I could feel his disapproval.

  We headed downstairs. I turned to Paul as he inspected the windows, looking for something wrong.

  He couldn't find anything. This house was flawless. It stood out from the rest of the neighborhood. All the things he wanted.

  I returned to the study and gathered some of my books. Harrison stood near the front door and scrolled through his phone. His face had a strange expression. He looked up and found me watching him but looked away.

  Paul wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close. His aftershave made me sneeze. It was too much. He covered his scent.

  Not like Harrison.

  Stop it, Brooklyn.

  Paul kissed the back of my neck and rubbed his dick against my ass.

  "I can't wait to fuck you in every room of this house," he said in a loud whisper.

  My cheeks grew hot.

  "Paul." I pushed him away.

  He chuckled.

  "Harris." Paul went up to him and reached up to smack him on the shoulder.

  Harrison stiffened.

  "It's Harrison."

  "Oh, yeah. So anything else you need?" Paul asked.

  Harrison narrowed his eyes.