She nods.
“Okay. Then stay there or a hotel if you prefer. Just be careful of where you discuss anything. As soon as I talk to Agent Creedie, I’ll text you a day and time. We’ll meet at Jamison’s for everything unless I feel we need to move locations,” Claire instructs.
“What if Monday comes and you haven’t gotten a hold of him yet?” I ask. “Do I go start work for the sperm donor or what?” I swallow the bile rising in my throat. Being anywhere near Maximillion makes my stomach churn. The thought of having to record a conversation and get him to admit what is needed to clear my mom’s name accelerates the spinning. I’m a horrible liar. Ever since I was a child, I never could get away with it. My face would turn red and I would stammer instead of pulling it off the way other kids could. So I learned quickly that telling the truth is the way to go.
“No. Stay away from him until we’re able to create a solid plan. Whatever you do, you can’t be around him unless you’re wired. His ego is so big, my guess is he’ll spill whatever we need him to.”
My fear I’ll fail and my mother will be locked in a cell the remainder of her life grips me. “And what if he doesn’t admit to what we want him to?”
Claire looks me in the eye and sounds confident, but I feel nothing but anxiety. “Then we’ll have to come up with a plan B.”
26
Harper
Steven tosses and turns most of the night. I can’t seem to calm his nerves or anger. When the darkness of the night becomes lighter, creeping into the morning, he rises.
I stir. “What time is it?”
“Shh. Go back to sleep. I need to work out.” He quickly kisses me and goes into the closet, coming out in shorts, a T-shirt, and tennis shoes, then leaves.
He’s going to hurt himself again.
No, he won’t.
Yes, he will.
For a good twenty minutes, I debate in my mind what to do. I finally get out of bed, throw on my robe, and go down the hall to his gym.
Music is blaring. Sweat stains his clothes and shines on his skin. The squat press machine he’s on has no more room for the thick, black plates.
“Ahhh,” he grunts while slowly moving his legs back up.
I go to the control switch and flip off the music and trot over to the machine he’s on. His wet, contorted face is red, and he locks the bar in place.
His eyes fill with panic, chest rises and falls, and he pants, “What’s wrong?”
“You can’t do this.”
A wrinkle forms between his eyebrows. “What?”
“You know what. Hurt yourself.”
“Harper, I’m not—”
“You are! I’m not stupid. No more weight can fit on this bar. It’s too much, you know it’s too much, and you need to stop now.”
His eyes blaze with frustration, and he sternly says, “Harper, go back to bed.”
“No.”
“Harper—”
“If you do this, I’m leaving.”
His eyes widen, and hurt replaces his expression.
My insides shake. “I mean it. I won’t watch you destroy yourself.”
He takes a deep breath and rises out of the machine. His hurt changes to anger, and his sweaty face deepens with red. “So, if I work out and happen to injure myself, you’re going to just up and leave? Is that how you operate? Stick with me while things are good and bail when they get bad?”
I cross my arms. “Don’t make this into something it’s not, Steven.”
“I’m in my gym, working out. You come in here and interrupt me then tell me you’re going to leave me. What exactly am I creating here?”
“Getting injured during a workout versus intentionally hurting yourself are two different things.”
“Mind your own business, Harper,” he snarls then grabs his water and chugs down a third of it. He moves to a freestanding barbell and fills it with weights.
His words and tone cut me. He’s never spoken to me like this before. I quietly say, “I won’t tell you again. If you don’t stop, I’ll need to leave.”
He keeps filling the bar.
“Why do you believe this is helping you?” I cry out.
“Would you rather I punch a hole in the wall?” he growls.
I freeze.
He squeezes his eyes shut and says, “This is how I deal with things. It’s the weights or the wall. What do you prefer?” When he opens his lids, the layers of self-hatred, pain, and rage are so potent, it tugs at my heart.
I step forward. “Sit.” I point to the bench next to him.
He stares at the ceiling.
“Sit,” I insist again.
He huffs and obeys.
I grab his T-shirt and peel it off him.
“What are you doing, Harper?”
“Take it out on me.”
“What?”
I release the tie on my robe and shrug my shoulders so it falls to the floor. “Use me.”
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
I step between his legs. “Pound your aggression into me, Steven.”
The blue in his eyes turns darker. He glances between my breasts and my face.
I move my body closer so my nipples, which are beginning to pucker, are inches from his face. I grab his hand and put it on my sex. “I’m already wet for you. What are you going to do?”
His jaw twitches. One of his digits lightly traces my slit. His breathing becomes more shallow.
I reach for his pants and grip the waist. When I start to pull, he lifts his hips. “That’s a good boy,” I quietly praise him as the slow throbbing in my loins grows. I brush my nipple against his lips.
He closes his eyes again. “Harper, I don’t want to use you.”
I lean into his ear, my hair falls around his head, and I lace my fingers into his wet hair. The heat from his body penetrates my cells. “Let’s use each other. Now suck me then I’m going to suck you.” I lick the sweat behind his ear and tug his head into my cleavage.
He groans then moves his mouth over my breast.
“Hard,” I demand. “Mark me so I’m sore all day.”
“Harper.”
“Fuck me so I can’t walk straight, Steven.”
I’ve never told anyone to do what I’m telling him to. And I realize how much I trust him to do whatever to my body he can and how much I want him to take anything I can give him he needs.
He groans and increases the pressure so a pleasant pain runs through my core and right to my sex.
“Steven!” I cry out and dig my nails into his skull.
He moves to my other breast and does the same. “This what you want, Harper?”
“Yes!”
He grabs my legs, straddles me over him, then slides me onto his cock. He rises while in me, takes four strides to the nearby wall, and pushes me against it.
It’s a cold contrast to the heat of his body. I grip around his shoulders and my hands slide from his sweat. My legs tighten around his torso.
Thrusting into me, his erection ripples my walls. He grunts then finds my lips and parts them by roughly shoving his tongue in my mouth.
I match the flicks of his tongue, whimpering from his cock pounding into my heat.