Fucking hell, this is a goddamn first.

Eyes glued to her pussy, the lights from the parking lot casting a dim glow on her hand, I watch as she pleasures herself, her fingers gliding in and out, her thumb rubbing over her clit. Head tilted back, she lets out a low moan as her nipples pucker under my hand, her hips starting to move back and forth, the press of her hand against my crotch teasing the ever-living fuck out of me.

“Oh yes,” she moans, her pace picking up.

I watch, fascinated, transfixed, turned on like I’ve never been before.

“How wet are you, Harper?” I ask, all the tension and playful anger disappearing as I watch my girl pleasure herself.

She bites her bottom lip. “So wet.”

I pinch her nipple, helping her along the way. “Does it turn you on even more having me watch you?”

“Yes,” she says breathlessly, starting to move faster. “Oh God, Rogan. I can’t get deep enough.” Her eyes open wide, and her spare hand falls to my shoulder. “I need you inside me.”

And just like that, our bickering is forgotten, and we move to the sex, faster than ever before.

“Sit up for a second, Harp.” She does, and I quickly pull my sweatpants down, along with my boxer briefs. My cock springs forward, and I guide it under her. “Sit on me.” Thankfully, she’s on birth control, so we don’t ever have to worry about condoms.

Quickly, she slips me inside her, and we both blow out a low breath. “Hell, Harper.” My jaw tenses, and I slouch down in the seat. “It always feels so perfect with you.”

I slip my hands around her ass as she grips my shoulders and lowers her head, her lips caressing mine, our tongues tangling.

“Like we’re meant for each other.”

“We are,” I answer, pushing up inside her, making her gasp. “Ride me, Harp. Hard.”

Widening even more, she moves up and down on me, her hips swiveling, her tongue mimicking the same movement, her hands roaming my pecs and shoulders, her fingers little touches of pleasure passing over my skin.

“Christ,” I mutter when my balls start to tighten. “Where are you, Harp?”

“Right there.” Her head falls forward, and her mouth lands on my shoulder; she bites down, a moan popping out of her mouth as she contracts around my cock.

“Fuck,” I groan, pumping harder, guiding her hips until I fall over the edge, a euphoric wave of pleasure rapidly engulfing my entire body.

God, fucking hell . . .

I fill her and slowly start to calm my hips as we both surface from our orgasms. When she lifts her head to pepper kisses across my face, I say, “Jesus. Fuck, Harper. That was . . .”

“That was hot,” she finishes for me.

I chuckle. “That was really hot.” I meet her eyes. “How often do you pleasure yourself?”

She bites her lip. “Maybe once or twice a week when I’m in the shower and don’t get to see you.”

“Seriously?”

She nods. “Yeah, what about you?”

I pull on the back of my neck. “Hell, probably the same, and the minute I think about your tits in my mouth, I’m coming.”

She smiles down at me, pulling on my lip with her thumb. “See, I told you; you come fast.”

Fucking cheeky woman.

I squeeze her ass, hard. “You’re going to pay for that.”

She hums into my ear as she lowers her head. “I can’t wait.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

HARPER

Whatever you do, do not bounce your foot. The hardwood floors of Snow Roast will give you away with their historical creaking. You’re only ten minutes into your Lovemark meeting, you’ve sucked down your coffee, and you’ve already sweated through the armpits of your shirt.

I spent the past two days putting together a small presentation of all the locations I found for possible scenes, along with permission from the land and building owners. I took pictures and organized them by scene in binders, each page laminated.

Carl’s, Sally’s, and Elizabeth’s surprised faces over the lamination made me question if I went a little too far, but then again, what if they were drinking coffee and spilled a cup all over their papers?

“These are so great, Harper. I especially love the lot behind Brig’s Garage. It’s really quite magical back there—perfect for the camping scene.”

“That’s what I thought too. I’d spent some time back there before Brig took it over, and even back then, it was so serene. And Brig’s improvements add a whole new element.”

“And these trees? Spectacular. I’m assuming with snow, the branches droop like a canopy over the space?” Sally asks, examining the pictures closely.

“Oh yes, and when it snows here, it’s like you’re transported to another world, especially after it freshly falls and no one has touched it yet. The air is calm, the streets peaceful beneath a thick white blanket. I always loved winters up at the lighthouse, being able to look over all of Port Snow. It’s absolutely stunning.”

Elizabeth smiles. “Talk about stunning. Your dad has done a wonderful job with the lighthouse. These pictures are incredible. I’m not sure the scene you chose works with the lighthouse, but I’m tempted to write it in.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Carl chuckles. “I don’t think I could pass up having this in the movie.”

“My dad would be over the moon! Oh, I almost forgot to mention. I spoke with Brig, and he has one stipulation about using his lot.”

“He wants to be an extra in the movie,” Sally says with a laugh. “Griffin has already told us about him, and that won’t be a problem. I think we have the perfect role, and it even has a tiny line.”

I giggle, thinking about how Brig is going to react to the news. “He’ll be beside himself.”

“What about the Harbor Walk House?” Carl asks. “Weren’t we thinking about using it for Chris’s home? It’s the perfect fishing house, right in the middle of the harbor. In A Sweet Christmas, Chris is kind of a recluse and has only moved back to town to fulfill his dad’s dying wish to resurrect his candy shop. So the Harbor Walk House would be absolutely perfect.”

Yup, I couldn’t have picked a better location, but I’ll be damned if I have to work with Rogan or ask his permission to use one of his properties. Unfortunately for me, the man owns way too much real estate in this town. I knew he was successful, but does he have to own every cute little building in Port Snow?

“I thought about the Harbor Walk House, but there’s a house on the eastern edge of the peninsula that I thought might work as well. It’s a quaint cottage with beach access; I think it’s on page twenty.”

“Yes, I saw that.” Carl doesn’t look impressed. “Is there something wrong with the Harbor Walk House?”

Just that my ex-boyfriend who shattered my heart owns it, and I’m too stubborn to ask him.

I’m about to answer when Sally cuts in. “You know, I’m not sure if the cameras will be able to get the angle we need on the Harbor Walk House’s narrow deck. This little house by the beach might be perfect.”

Thank God for Sally and camera angles.

“I don’t know . . . I think we should still try.” Damn it, Elizabeth.

“Well, regardless, this all looks great, except there is one place I don’t think I’m sold on,” Carl says.

“What’s that?” I ask, my hands twisting nervously on my lap.

“The inn for the Governor’s Ball. The space is rich with history and well maintained, but it doesn’t have quite the show-stopping appeal I’d like. This is where Chris and Darcy see each other for the first time outside of renovating the shop. You see, Chris just sees Darcy in work clothes all day, every day, since he hired her for carpentry work. And the ball is where he finally sees who she is beyond a tool belt and frumpy clothes. She takes his breath away, and we need a location that’s just as gorgeous.”

“I agree,” Sally adds. “We need something more monumental. This is where Darcy parts the crowd in a brilliant red dress. We need a grand staircase and an open space.”

“What about that place we found that day when we got lost?” Elizabeth asks. “The large white house.”

Large white house, large white house . . . There are tons of large white houses in Port Snow, especially along the coast.

“Oh!” Sally claps her hands. “The one we drooled over for at least ten minutes?”

Elizabeth nods. “That one. I have no idea what it looks like inside, but it seems grand enough to have a ton of space.”

Nervously, I shift in my seat, hating that I don’t know which property they’re talking about. “Do you happen to remember where this house is?”

When putting together all the locations, I knew the Governor’s Ball was going to be my greatest challenge. Port Snow may be beautiful and historic, but we don’t have much in the way of grandiose buildings. Even though it pained me, I thought about bringing them up to Pottsmouth to one of the mansions on Clearly Street—but that’s my last resort. If they find a place they like in town, I’ll do my best to convince the owners to let us use it.

“I think we could find it again—right, Sally?”

“Oh, for sure.”