Page 132 of Tanner

“I have big news,” I say as I kiss her jaw.

She thrusts her hips against my groin. “Yeah, you do.”

I drop my head into her shoulder to bite it. She lets out a screech, and I laugh as I lean back and tell her, “You’re looking at a thirty-three-point-three-three-three-three—a millions threes—percent owner of Sexton Media.”

Her icy-blue eyes widen, and her jaw drops at the news that my brothers and I have finally won back Missy’s shares.

“Way to bury the lede! You should have walked in the door with that announcement! So, it’s over?”

“It’s over. Father’s shares reverted back to us after his death, and we were just awarded Missy’s today. Bryce, Austin, and I are now one hundred percent owners of Sexton Media. And, no, it’s not for sale.”

“That’s for damn sure. That’s amazing news and definitely worth celebrating. I have some exciting news of my own.”

She wraps her foot around my ass and pulls me in closer. I grind into her and listen as a moan escapes her lips. My girl tends to get easily distracted.

“What kind of news?”

“The Tanner and Harper Sexton Charity Endowment just gave out its first grant.”

After Harper’s apartment sold, we were thankful when Aaron left of his own accord, and we didn’t have to move forward with an eviction. Last she heard, he had moved in with that woman, Nicole. Despite it all, Harper wishes him happiness. I happen to wish him baldness and a fat lip. We agree to disagree.

What we do agree on is, what she did with the money from the sale of her apartment. The Tanner and Harper Sexton Charity Endowment will make food, clothing, and school supplies available to underprivileged children in Harlem. It will survive off earned interest with Harper and I running the back end for as long as we live.

I fought her on the name, thinking it needed to be in her name only. What she doesn’t know is that the building she hates so much, the one I painted the mural on, is up for sale. Bryce is helping me purchase it as a gift for Harper. I’d like to make it the Harper Sexton Community Center for Boys and Girls. My goal is to have it named before she has a chance to argue. Well, she can argue a little. She’s cute as hell when she pouts.

“Have I ever told you how amazed I am by you?” I kiss her body over the form-fitted T-shirt she’s wearing. “By your passion.” I nibble her breasts. “Your dedication.” I lift her T-shirt to kiss her belly button. “Your wit.” I pull down the top of her jeans and lick the smooth, forbidden skin. “Your fearlessness.” I settle my mouth over her groin and take a bite.

She moans loudly as I skim my hands up the sides of her ribs and pull my body along with them, settling right back into my favorite place in the world. “I love every inch of you, Harper Sexton. And I damn well plan to show you every second of every damn day.”

Her arms wrap around my neck as her fingers tangle through the ends of my hair, using my body to get the friction she desires. “Show me now.”

My cock twitches. “How much time do we have before everyone comes over?”

“Not a lot. Twenty minutes maybe?” She pants.

I press my hips against her, eliciting the sweetest moan. “That’s not enough.”

“We could be fast.” Her mouth pouts.

See? Fucking adorable.

I suck on her neck and trace kisses down to her collarbone. “Tonight, once they’re all gone, I have edible paint I plan to use to paint you from tip”—I tug on a very pert nipple—“to toe.” I slide my hand down her leg, feeling the inside of her thigh and running it down her calf.

“Tease,” she groans and rubs her body against me one more time, eliciting a little shiver.

With a kiss to her lips, I pull back and smile. “But you love me anyway.”

“Forever.”

Rising from the couch, I grab her hand and pull her up. I follow her into the gourmet kitchen I dreamed we’d have.

We looked at places all around San Francisco, including Marin and Berkeley, but she wanted to remain in the heart of the city, just like we were in New York.

First, we found a cute flat in the Mission District that has recently turned into an artistic mecca for the city. The apartment is very reminiscent of my studio in New York, painting wall and all. When I told her I wanted a house where we could raise a family, she laughed, saying the flat was for a new art studio … for both of us. A secret lair. A place we can go when we want to run away from the world. She said the night she went crazy, painting with her entire body, saved her life. I know it saved mine, so I agreed. Little does she know, I don’t ever want to hide away again.

So, now, we have the art flat in Mission and this townhouse in Cow Hollow with four bedrooms that I plan to fill—and quickly.

“Smells good in here,” I say as she stirs the sauce.