Harrison

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"I'm not done with you tonight," I whisper against her ear. I can't stop smiling. I'm buzzing on too much champagne and the feel of her hand in mine.

She nods and I feel her smile against my lips before she kisses me deeply. We're pressed against the door of the penthouse, not ready to go inside. Her warm hands fiddle with my tie, and top two shirt buttons before digging into my hair. I'm losing my mind over how good she feels. Her nails are sharp and wonderful, and if I could manage to pull my hands off her sexy hips long enough to find my keycard, we could take this to my bed.

My heart is pounding. I can tell she's running out of breath, so I pull away and press my forehead against hers to give us a break. Her eyes are wild and hot; she's never looked at me this way. I could get used to this.

"I want you in my bed, Brooklyn," I say and her eyes flare. Her hands find my ass and she pulls me closer to her. I know she can feel me pressing hard against her, but it must not be enough, because her right hand comes between us and she unbuckles my belt before sliding her hand down the inside of my dress pants.

"Well, fuck, baby. We're not even gonna make it to my bed if you keep that up,"

As amazing as it sounds, I cannot bang Brooklyn against this door with my daughter right inside.

"Well then hurry it up," she teases pulling her hand out of my pants as she, watches me dig for the keycard in my pocket.

"Head inside and straight to my room," I say as I zip my fly and tuck my shirt messily into my pants. I slide the keycard and the door unlocks.

"It's so dark in here," she whispers, and I feel around until I find the light switch and flip it on. I can't stop thinking about what just happened in the hall. I'm so out of it I almost miss the light on in the bathroom. Almost.

I frown, and tip my head in its direction to signal to Brooklyn we might not be the only ones awake.

"It's gonna be okay, sweetheart. I promise," I hear Layla say as I open the door slowly. My stomach drops as I see my little girl sitting on the closed toilet lid with her head tipped back and leaning on the tank. There are piles of bloody tissues on the floor. My sister is kneeling in front of her, holding one to Sophie's nose.

Not again.

"Soph," I manage, my voice breaking. Layla turns and her eyes tell me how hard she's been fighting off the tears. She's trying to be strong for my little girl. "Baby, what's the matter?"

"I woke up sick, Daddy," she says. "I got scared. Auntie Layla heard me crying,"

As the last words leave her lips, I feel Brooklyn's hand on my back. I need to ask Layla more questions, but I don't want to scare Sophie. I'm thankful when Brooklyn steps in and kneels down by the toilet.

"Hey, Soph," she says sweetly, nodding to Layla that she can take a break. "We're just gonna sit like this for a few minutes, okay?"

"I'm scared, Brook,"

Layla and I step into the hallway and I rattle off panicked questions as quietly as I can.

"Fever?" I ask Layla and she shakes her head.

"At least I don't think so," she manages.

"How long?"

"Not very. Ten minutes, maybe? She was crying, so I went in. Her pillow was covered in blood," she says sadly.

"You should've called," I snap. I don't mean it, I'm just afraid.

"It's just a nosebleed, Harry," she says.

"What if it's not?" I run my hand through my hair. "Up until a few weeks ago, she didn't even know what a bloody nose was!" I snap and Layla closes her eyes.

I let out a long breath. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to take this out on you. I'm just worried,"

"I get it," she touches my shoulder. "Call her doctor when you get home if you're worried,"

I swallow and peek around the corner into the bathroom, where Sophie is now sitting upright, her face washed and a small smile on her face. Her little legs kick back and forth in front of her, and she's focused on Brooklyn.

"Tell me all about your night," she says. "Did you girls have fun?"

"Yes. We played poker," she announces happily.

"Poker?!" Brooklyn laughs. "Wow. You'll have to teach me sometime,"

I glance over at my sister with raised eyebrows and she shrugs with that don't worry about it look.

"I'll get her a new pillow," Layla whispers, bumping my shoulder and heading into Sophie's room.

I let out another long breath. Suddenly she seems fine. She's laughing and smiling and it's hard to believe anything was wrong just moments ago.

Maybe I'm worried over nothing. 

"C'mon, baby girl," I say, rolling up the sleeves of my shirt and lifting her off the closed toilet. "Bed time,"

I spin around to face Brooklyn, who is now standing in the door frame watching us. I see worry in her eyes that I know must match mine, and it puts me at ease a little.

"Aw, Daddy. I'm not tired anymore," she sticks out her tongue. "Can't I stay up with you and watch cartoons in your room?"

My eyes lock on Brooklyn with apology, but she smiles and nods in understanding.

"Sure. But only for tonight," I warn with a smile. I walk past Brooklyn, mouthing an apology, and she touches my arm to stop me. She kisses Sophie on the top of the head, but her eyes never leave mine.

She gets it - this relationship I have with my daughter. She gets me.

"See you for breakfast," she says lightly, and her eyes tell me she's genuinely okay with everything. I don't get the feeling she regrets any of it, or that she's angry our time together was cut short.

This trip has been a whirlwind of emotions, but if there's one thing I've learned from it, it's that Brooklyn Black is the real deal in every way possible, and we're lucky to have her in our lives. 

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