🔥 The Return 🔥

An Exclusive Bonus Scene from Getting Lei’d

One Year Later

Harper and Riley’s Anniversary Trip

The Mana Loa Villa looked exactly as Harper remembered.

Same ridiculous flower petals scattered across the bed. Same too-many candles flickering on every surface. Same champagne chilling in the ice bucket, same chocolate-dipped strawberries arranged in a heart on the pillow.

Same gorgeous view of the ocean.

Different woman standing behind her.

No—not different. The same woman. Just… hers now. Really, truly, legally hers.

“They gave us the exact same room,” Riley said, dropping her bag and spinning around with that grin Harper still hadn’t built up immunity to. “Either that’s romantic as hell or deeply concerning.”

“I requested it.”

“You what?”

“I requested it.” Harper felt her cheeks heat. “When I made the reservation. I asked for this specific room.”

Riley stared at her. Then her face split into the biggest smile Harper had ever seen.

“Harper Vance.” She stalked forward, backing Harper against the dresser. “Did you plan a romantic gesture?”

“I plan everything. You know this.”

“But you planned romance. Intentional, premeditated romance.”

“Is that a crime?”

“It should be.” Riley’s hands found her hips, fingers curling into the fabric of her sundress. “It should be illegal for you to be this sweet and this hot at the same time. The combination is lethal.”

“I aim to please.”

“Oh, I know you do.” Riley’s voice dropped, and something sparked in her eyes. “I remember.”

Harper’s breath caught.

One year. They’d been together one year—one year of learning each other’s bodies, each other’s tells, each other’s secret buttons. One year of Riley figuring out exactly how to unravel Harper with a look, a touch, a word.

She was very, very good at it now.

“We should probably unpack,” Harper managed.

“We should.” Riley didn’t move.

“And check in with the resort.”

“Definitely.” Still not moving.

“And maybe get dinner reservations—”

Riley kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle. Wasn’t tentative. This wasn’t the nervous, exploratory kiss they’d shared in this exact room a year ago. This was a kiss that knew—knew exactly what Harper liked, exactly how to tilt to deepen the angle, exactly where to put her hands to make Harper’s knees buckle.

“Dinner can wait,” Riley murmured against her lips.

“We just got here.”

“Exactly. Need to christen the room.”

“We already christened it. Last time.”

“That was different. That was first-time christening.” Riley nipped at Harper’s lower lip. “This is anniversary christening. Totally different category.”

“I don’t think that’s a real—” Harper’s argument dissolved into a gasp as Riley’s thigh pressed between her legs.

“You were saying?”

“Nothing. I was saying nothing.”

“Smart girl.”

Harper shivered at the praise—still, always, hopelessly responsive to those two words from Riley’s mouth.

“Bed?” Riley asked.

“Yes. God, yes.”

They stumbled toward it, losing clothes along the way—Riley’s tank top, Harper’s sundress, shoes kicked off in random directions. They fell onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs, and Harper laughed despite herself.

“What?” Riley asked, propping herself up.

“The flower petals. They’re stuck to my back.”

“Very romantic.”

“Very itchy.”

“Want me to help?” Riley’s grin turned wicked. She flipped them, settling Harper on top, and began methodically brushing petals off her skin. Except her hands kept wandering—over Harper’s ribs, down her spine, across the sensitive dip of her lower back.

“That’s not helping,” Harper breathed.

“No?”

“That’s the opposite of helping.”

“My mistake.” Riley’s hands slid lower, cupping Harper’s ass and pulling her down. “How about this?”

Harper rocked against her instinctively, finding friction, and they both groaned.

“Better,” she managed.

“I can do better than better.”

In one smooth motion, Riley rolled them again, pinning Harper beneath her. She looked down with an expression that was half adoration, half intent.

“Hi,” she said softly.

“Hi.”

“One year.”

“One year.”

“Still can’t believe you married me.”

Harper reached up to cup her face. “Best decision I ever made.”

“Better than your spreadsheet system?”

“Infinitely better.” Harper pulled her down for another kiss. “Now stop talking and remind me why.”

Riley didn’t need to be asked twice.

She kissed down Harper’s neck, teeth scraping the sensitive spot that made Harper arch off the bed. Kissed across her collarbone, down to the curve of her breast. Took her time there—licking, sucking, teasing until Harper was writhing.

“Riley—”

“Patience.”

“I don’t have patience. I have needs.”

“And I’m going to meet all of them.” Riley moved lower, kissing a path down Harper’s stomach. “Eventually.”

“That’s not—oh.”

Riley had reached her destination.

And God, she was good at this. A year of practice had made her an expert in Harper’s body—every sigh, every gasp, every broken moan catalogued and exploited. She knew exactly how to build Harper up, exactly how to keep her on the edge, exactly when to finally, mercifully let her fall.

Harper lasted approximately four minutes before she shattered, crying out Riley’s name to the ceiling.

“One,” Riley counted smugly, crawling back up her body.

“What?”

“One. I’m keeping score.”

“That’s—” Harper was still catching her breath. “That’s very organized of you.”

“You’re rubbing off on me.”

“Apparently I need to rub off on you more if you think keeping score is appropriate during—”

Riley kissed her quiet.

“I love you,” she said when they broke apart. “Every neurotic, spreadsheet-loving, orgasm-counting inch of you.”

“I love you too.” Harper’s hands slid down Riley’s back, hooking in her underwear. “Now take these off so I can return the favor.”

“Yes ma’am.”

They’d made it to three each by the time the sun fully set.

Harper lay sprawled across Riley’s chest, too boneless to move, while Riley traced lazy patterns on her bare back.

“I can’t believe we used to have a pillow barrier,” Riley said.

“I can’t believe we lasted as long as we did.”

“Three days. Three days of sharing a bed with you and pretending I didn’t want to do exactly this.” Riley’s hand drifted lower, cupping Harper’s ass. “I deserve an award.”

“You deserve something.”

“That sounds promising.”

Harper pushed herself up, and something in her expression must have shifted, because Riley’s eyes widened.

“Uh oh.”

“What?”

“You’ve got your planning face on.”

“I don’t have a planning face.”

“You absolutely have a planning face. It’s happening right now.” Riley propped herself on her elbows. “What are you planning?”

Harper straddled her, settling her weight across Riley’s hips.

“I was thinking,” she said slowly, “about all the things we didn’t do last time.”

“We did quite a lot.”

“But not everything.” Harper leaned down, letting her hair fall like a curtain around them. “We were nervous. New. Figuring each other out.”

“And now?”

“Now I know exactly what you like.” Harper rolled her hips, watching Riley’s breath hitch. “And I have a year’s worth of ideas I want to try.”

“Ideas?”

“Mmm.” Another roll. “I may have made a list.”

“Of course you made a list.” But Riley was grinning, already reaching for her. “Only you would make a sex bucket list for our anniversary.”

“It’s categorized by activity level and required equipment.”

“That’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“I brought props.”

“Harper.”

Harper reached over to her suitcase—conveniently positioned beside the bed for exactly this purpose—and unzipped a hidden compartment.

“I may have done some shopping,” she said.

Riley’s eyes went dark.

“Show me.”

Three hours later, they finally ordered room service.

The food arrived looking distinctly judged by the delivery person—probably because it was 11 PM, or possibly because Harper answered the door in nothing but Riley’s button-down with very obvious marks on her neck.

She didn’t care.

She was too happy to care.

“Best anniversary ever,” Riley declared, stealing a strawberry from Harper’s plate.

“Better than our first trip here?”

“Different. That was terrifying in a good way. This is just…” Riley smiled. “This is home. Wherever you are, that’s home.”

Harper felt tears prick at her eyes. Damn it. A year, and Riley could still undo her with a single sentence.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you too.” Riley reached across the room service cart and took her hand. “For what it’s worth, I’m really glad we got stuck in the same room.”

“Me too.”

“And I’m glad you’re insane enough to have married me.”

“Me too.”

“And I’m glad we still have—” Riley checked Harper’s phone. “Six more days to see how many times we can break your spreadsheet projections.”

Harper laughed. “You looked at my spreadsheet?”

“Babe, you left it open on your laptop. I know you have a ‘minimum daily goal’ and an ‘aspirational target.'”

“Those are just guidelines—”

“We’re definitely hitting aspirational.” Riley stood, abandoning the food. “Starting now.”

“We just ate!”

“Minimal physical exertion version, then.” Riley tugged her toward the bathroom. “Hot tub. Now.”

The hot tub.

They hadn’t used it last time. Had barely acknowledged its existence, too nervous and too new to explore all the possibilities.

Now, though?

Now Harper let Riley lead her to the oversized spa tub, let her turn on the jets, let her pull her into the warm, bubbling water.

“Hi,” Riley said, settling Harper in her lap.

“Hi.”

“Comfortable?”

“Very.”

“Good.” Riley’s hands slid up her thighs under the water. “Now let me take care of you.”

It was slow this time. Gentle. The urgency burned away by hours of intensity, leaving something softer in its wake. Riley’s fingers moved with patient precision while her other hand held Harper close, and Harper let herself float—let herself be held, be loved, be cherished in all the ways she’d spent a lifetime convincing herself she didn’t deserve.

When she came, it was like a wave cresting—slow and inevitable and overwhelming.

She turned in Riley’s arms after, kissing her deep and true.

“Happy anniversary,” she whispered.

“Happy anniversary.” Riley smiled against her lips. “Same time next year?”

“Same time every year.” Harper kissed her again. “For the rest of our lives.”

It was a big promise. The kind Harper never would have made before—before the booking error, before the pact, before a chaotic photographer with a coconut mascot had crashed through all her carefully constructed walls.

But now?

Now she meant it with her whole heart.

“Deal,” Riley said. “You bring the spreadsheets.”

“And you bring the chaos?”

“Always.” Riley grinned. “That’s what you married.”

Harper pulled her under the water, laughing, and thought: Yeah.

That’s exactly what I married.

And I wouldn’t change a single thing.

💜 The End 💜

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Aurora North

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