Pretend You're Mine

Bedtime Story


Luke Garrison jammed his truck into park in the driveway and jumped out, leaving the key in the ignition.


When a man’s wife texted him a selfie of her spectacular breasts during lunch, that man dumped his burger on his plate and his afternoon client meeting on his foreman and drove home fast enough to break the law. Especially when it was the first day of school, and three of their four kids were behind brick walls learning whatever the hell was taught on the first day. Their fourth, sweet Sadie Karen—named for Harper’s late mother and his late first wife—was safely ensconced in daycare.


A quickie in the middle of the day in their empty house? Harper didn’t have to spell it out for him.


Luke bounded up the steps of the front porch and was unbuckling his belt as he shoved through the front door.


“Harper!” he called, whipping off his Garrison Construction shirt and tossing it in the direction of the dining room. It felt odd, wrong even, to come home without Lola the pitbull and her three-legged pal, Max, skittering down the hall to meet him. But when Sadie’s daycare opened an onsite doggy daycare, Harper had signed up the dogs for three days a week. She’d sprung it on him like she sprung everything on him. But Luke had learned that Harper generally knew best and always made decisions on what would make those affected the happiest.


“I’m in the kitchen,” she called, her voice the only needed provocation to have his cock thickening in his jeans.


“You’d better be naked,” he said, swinging into the kitchen. She was there, his beautiful Harper. His sunshine, his center. With her corn silk hair and those blue eyes that broadcast her every thought, she was the best thing that ever happened to him.


And she wasn’t alone.


Harper jumped nervously in front of him holding a dish towel over his nearly exposed junk. “Oh, hell,” she muttered.


“Hello, Lucas.” His mother was sitting at the breakfast table looking everywhere but his half-naked self.


“Shit.”


“Your mom saw my car and stopped by to show me what she and your dad picked out for Henry for his birthday,” Harper said with forced brightness. She was biting her lip trying not to laugh. Henry, their second oldest, was having a baseball party for the big 1-0. Harper was on her sixth practice baseball diamond cake.


“And I was just leaving,” Claire announced gathering her purse and gift bag. “It looks like you two have… things to do.”


“Thanks for stopping by, Claire. Henry’s going to love the jersey,” Harper said. She pleaded with Luke with her eyes to say something, anything to make it less awkward.


“Bye, Mom,” Luke said without taking his eyes off Harper.


“Be polite,” his wife hissed at him.


“It’s hard to be polite when I’m still hard,” he whispered, deliberately letting his lips brush the shell of her ear.


He caught the shiver, the heat in her eyes. They followed his mother down the hall to the front door.


“Bye, Claire!” Harper said an octave or two higher than usual.


Luke’s mom grinned and shook her head at them. “Ah. Young love.”


“Not that young, Mom,” Luke clarified, opening the front door for her and ushering her out.


“We’ll see you tomorrow for Henry’s party,” Claire said, skipping down the front stairs.


He knew that smile. His mother—as all mothers—took great joy in his happiness. He’d seen the same expression on Harper’s face as she watched their kids grow and learn and laugh until they couldn’t breathe. However, his happiness, his enjoyment of life, had been missing for far too many years. Lost to the darkness, he’d only been capable of putting one foot in front of the other, not knowing what else to do. Until Harper.


Harper Wilde with her crazy ideas and her knack for trouble. She’d swept into his life in need of a hero and ended up chasing all the shadows from his heart. She’d turned his business into a finely tuned machine, snuck two dogs and three foster kids into his heart, given him a daughter, and turned his empty, creaking house into a home bursting at the seams with love.


And when the woman who’d given you your purpose back texted you that she wanted you naked at the house in fifteen minutes, you broke the damn speed limit to give her exactly what she wanted.


Luke shut and locked the door. He pivoted and leaned his back against it so he could study his wife. She was still wearing the sexy pencil skirt and heels she’d worn to work today. There was no dress code. He owned the company, so Harper could wear pajamas if she wanted to, but she enjoyed teasing him throughout the day. Heels, fitted shirts, skirts that hugged the curves of her perfect ass. And when they were short-handed on a job site? It was Harper, in holey jeans and a ball cap, mudding drywall and laying tile.


There was no doubt, he was a lucky man.


“What are you thinking about?” she asked, an impish smile on her full lips. She was backing slowly toward the stairs, putting a little space between them.


“I’m wondering when you had time to take your bra off,” Luke said, showing his teeth.


“My filthy-minded boss gave me the idea when he sent me an inappropriate email this morning. I believe he said something like ‘The only way you could look hotter right now is if you lost the bra.’” Her eyes sparkled. “And I took it off about thirty seconds before your mother showed up on the doorstep. I thought it was you when she opened the door.”


“So, she got an eyeful from both of us?” Luke laughed. “This’ll liven up the party conversation tomorrow.”


Harper took another step back.


“You can run, but you can’t hide,” he warned her, feeling his blood pumping through his veins. The anticipation of what he planned to do to her fueled him. The tension crackled between them.


She telegraphed her move before she made it, and Luke was ready for her. Still, he gave her the head start as she sprinted down the hallway. The heels slowed her down, not that he needed the advantage. Years in the military had honed his physique better than any treadmill. He caught her from behind as she dashed into the kitchen.


Luke wrapped his arms around her, pressing her face-down on the countertop. “Where exactly did you think you were going?”


“Anywhere you’d chase me,” she confessed, stepping her feet as far apart as the skirt would allow.


Luke took a moment to appreciate the view of his wife sprawled face down in front of him. He wanted to tell her exactly what she meant to him. How she’d saved him. What it did to him to wake up with her curled over him, hogging the blankets and his heat every morning. How he felt when he spied her playing catch with their four kids in the backyard before he came home.


He’d never been good with words. But thankfully, Harper read him just fine without them.


He guided his hands over the rounded curves of her hips, down the outside of her thighs until his fingers found skin. Soft and silky smooth. Those long lean legs, those gentle curves that begged for his hands, the shiver that raced through her body. Everything about Harper called to him.


Luke brought his hands higher, dragging the skirt with him. His cock stirred restlessly when he unveiled Harper’s sweet, white briefs. They matched the crisp cotton of her blouse.


“What time do you have to be back?” His voice was an unrecognizable rasp, his throat closing over the need he felt rise up inside him.


“Two,” she breathed out, tension high in her voice. “Marketing meeting.”


“It’s Benevolence. Everyone already knows us here. Why do we need marketing?” His voice was gruff, but he kept his hands gentle, skimming over her ass.


“You’re just trying to keep me here longer as your sex prisoner.”


Luke could hear the smirk in her tone.


He gave her flesh a sharp slap, and she laughed. Harper gave him free rein of her body, a responsibility he’d never take lightly. She’d been hurt, physically, before. And long ago, Luke had vowed that she’d never know pain from him in their lifetime. That level of shared trust, of vulnerability, gave them a freedom to explore every inch of the other inside and out.


Luke nudged her feet further apart and tugged her hips back against him. Enjoying the friction, he flexed into her.


“Why do you have so many clothes on?” Harper groaned, pressing against the granite counter.


“You’re fully dressed,” he reminded her, stroking a hand down her back.


“I feel like that’s a problem.” She frowned at him over her shoulder. He gave her ponytail a yank. Before she could complain, Luke brought two fingers to his mouth, wet them while she watched, and traced the cleft between her ass cheeks through the underwear.


He watched her lips part, ready to beg, ready to order him into her. But he beat her to it. Whimpers instead of words escaped those perfect pink lips when he slipped his fingers under the edge of the cotton. Harper was already wet as he’d known she’d be. Worshipping her body for these years had given him unlimited carnal knowledge of what she wanted, what she craved.


He parted her already slick folds and toyed with her, enjoying the tremble that shot through her legs. “Do you remember our first time?” His voice was rough, edgy.


“God, yes. Right here. The thunderstorm.”


“The bikini.” Luke remembered the moment his entire life changed right here in this very kitchen. He’d resisted her, trying to do the right thing. But in the end, he’d fallen and hard for the girl with the golden hair and bright smiles.


Harper moaned and then sucked in a breath through clenched teeth when he slid those fingers into her, into that beautiful heat that had obsessed him since the beginning. “I love when you touch me.” It wasn’t so much a confession as a reiteration. They were made for each other. The connection never seemed to dull or fray. It was as sharp as the first moment he’d laid eyes on her.


“I’m never going to get used to you, baby.” He pumped into her, setting a leisurely pace that he knew would only serve to drive her crazy. “Unbutton your shirt.” He’d destroyed enough of his wife’s blouses, tanks, and tees to know when he could undress her and when he’d be too forceful. He enjoyed replacing her wardrobe as he systematically destroyed each piece. He could certainly afford it, but Harper, in a rare practical moment, claimed it was wasteful.


She complied eagerly, and Luke counted his lucky stars that he had a wife who would drag him out of work to their empty home for this.


He continued to finger her and used his empty hand to grip her breast, enjoying the weight of the flesh against his palm. “Yes,” she hissed.


He needed to give her this, needed her to find her release before he chased his. Her whimpers were driving him mad. He worked her breast and her sex, building up to the speed she begged for. When he felt her quicken around his fingers, he felt invincible.


“Lucas!”


There was nothing in this world like his name on Harper’s lips in the throes. She came hard on his hand, ripples working over his fingers, and it took every ounce of his control to wait out the tremors before shoving his jeans down. His cock, hard and leaking at the crown, sprang free. He gripped it and gave the white panties a sharp yank. The material grabbed hold of her skin before ripping cleanly away. She was more forgiving about another shredded pair of underwear than she was about a buttonless shirt, especially after their son Robbie asked her why she had to keep sewing her buttons back on.


Fisting his throbbing shaft, he lined himself up. Harper’s wet sex was begging to be filled.


“Hang on tight, baby.”


“Stop torturing me, Luke,” she ordered from under him.


He grinned. Even with her ass in the air, Harper could give orders like a four-star general. “Yes, ma’am.”


Gritting his teeth, he eased into her inch by inch until he was finally home.