“Done?”
“Yes.”
He stood and held out his hand. She hesitated, but in the end, there was no denying the man who’d just taken such good care of her. She curled her fingers around his, the calluses on his palms creating a delicious friction against her skin.
She tried to play it cool as he helped her stand to shaky legs. He led her into the hallway, to the second room on the right. Her old bedroom. How had he known?
“My room,” he said.
“Seriously?” As she’d done the last time she’d been here, she took a moment to mourn the loss of her queen-size bed with its floral comforter, her antique nightstands, and the vaulted ceiling with crumbling crown molding and the distorted images she’d painted.
Harlow flashed back to the emotional breakdown she’d suffered soon after her mother’s death, when she’d splattered the different colors of paint across the magical fairyland, leaving a chaotic mess.
“Were you the one who ruined the murals?” he asked.
She’d been staring up, she realized, and he’d easily guessed the direction of her thoughts. “Yes. The day of my mom’s funeral.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. I’m also sorry you did what you did. I liked the images and hoped to preserve them, but you’d made sure nothing could be salvaged.”
The words shocked her. “You actually liked my art?”
“You painted them?”
“Well, yeah. Why so surprised?”
He paid no heed to her question, saying, “Your talent is amazing, honey.”
“Thank you.” Glowing at his praise, Harlow took in the rest of the bedroom. “I never would have guessed you were a fan. I mean, you decided to go with beige walls.”
“You don’t like beige?”
“Beige is boring.”
“The house I lived in before this one had beige walls.”
“And now you can’t live with a little color?”
A flash of annoyance in those golden eyes, quickly replaced with the flirtatious glint she was so used to seeing. “Did you see my sheets? They’re blue.”
Will not look at the bed.
“Why don’t you take a shower and relax?” he said. “There are towels in the cabinet by the tub and clean clothes next to the sink. And, honey? If you crawl out the window, I will hunt you down. You won’t like what happens afterward.” He paused, smiled slowly, wickedly. “Or maybe you’ll like it a little too much.”
How embarrassing. He knew the effect he had on her. “Beck—”
“Shower.” He shut the door, sealing her inside.
Fine. She made her way into the bathroom. Once upon a time, the walls had been tiled in pink, her favorite color. Now everything was white, black and chrome: sleek and sexy for a modern man. But the changes didn’t bother her so much anymore. Maybe because they reminded her of Beck.
She brushed her teeth once, twice for good measure, then stripped and stepped under the hot spray of the shower. Steam filled the air, the scent of Beck—masculine and sultry—joining it as she shampooed and conditioned her hair. She’d gotten used to cold showers, having to sneak them from the outdoor hoses of nearby homes after the owners sped off to work, and she’d come to prefer them. At least, that’s what she’d told herself. Here, now, she admitted she’d only been fooling herself, trying to make herself feel better about her situation.
While the water continued to rain on her, she settled on the stall’s black-and-white floor. Would Beck want to chat with her when she finished? Yeah. Would he kick her off the land for good?
He had every right to do so, but...but... Hot tears scalded her eyes. Why couldn’t things go her way for once? Just once?
* * *
BECK PACED IN the living room, trying not to picture Harlow naked, soap and water trickling over miles of delectable skin he would sell his soul to touch. Trying, and failing. He wanted his hands on her, doing things. Bad things. Sweet things. Making her squirm and gasp and beg for more. Always more.
The desires were heightened, just like his reactions to her. But then, anger he’d rarely ever allowed himself to feel had burned away what remained of his restraint. Harlow lived as she did to punish herself, whether she realized it or not, and that crap ended today.
From now on, she would know only pleasure.
For the first time in his life, he craved a specific woman, and no one else would do until his desires for her were sated. Another change, one that bothered him, but not enough to stop him. He wanted her, she wanted him, and so he would have her.
“She here?” Jase asked as he entered the room.
“Yeah. Did you find out what crimes she supposedly committed as a teen?” Last night, after a little prompting from Beck, Jase had done his bro-duty and questioned his girlfriend in-depth about Harlow’s past.
“Typical bully stuff. Called people awful names, made fun of them, made them cry. Stole boyfriends from other girls, only to dump the guys soon after. Everything stopped halfway through her junior year when she dropped out.”
“Why, exactly, did she drop out?”
“Brook Lynn didn’t know. No one does, apparently.”
Something must have happened to her. Kids didn’t just drop out for grins and giggles. Especially the ones who ruled the school with an iron fist.
“You want me to hire someone to look into what happened to her?” Jase asked.
“Already done.” He’d made the call last night.