Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
taylor
The cabin came into view after we’d rounded a particularly wooded bend. The path opened before us straight, the trees much more sparse in the field around the cabin, though several very tall, old oaks towered above it eerily.
The silver light of the full moon cast deep shadows around the house and the trees, but it also lit a path for us and showed me clearly that this place was completely solitary.
There were no lights glowing warmly before us, though it was a large, two-story cottage with a wraparound deck and log exterior.
“What a place to commit a terrible crime,” I said.
Harrison laughed as he pulled the car up and killed the engine. The moonlight was enough to show us the way after the headlights had gone out.
I reached for the backpack, then paused and looked at Harrison. “We’re not breaking and entering, right? You rented this place.”
“Rented?” Harrison smiled and shook his head. “It’s mine. Well, mine on paper, but my parents come here from time to time.”
I mouthed a curse, then stepped out of the car, as did Harrison. “I don’t think I can wrap my mind around just how rich you are.”
“Don’t bother trying,” Harrison said. “I didn’t earn it.”
“You live it.” Was that a rude thing to say? I hoped not. “What do they do, your parents?”
Harrison was busy with his keys as he walked ahead and climbed the stairs to the deck, then crossed it to reach the front door. “Oh, Mom runs a law firm, and Dad’s in construction.”
I whistled low. “Good. I was afraid you’d tell me they were in the New Jersey waste management business.”
Harrison chuckled. He unlocked the door, pushed it open before us, and flicked on the lights at the entrance. The whole place came to life with the subdued glow of lamps and gentle, dimmed overhead lights.
“They signed this place over to me as a sort of insurance in life,” Harrison said. “In case all the banks fail and the world ends, at least I’d have something. Dad’s big on physical assets.” He shut the door behind me as I stepped into the pure wonderland of cozy charm.
Decorated in a mix of Harrison’s beloved mid-century modern with accents of rustic style, the place had a large, brick fireplace, comfortable sofas, lots of wood, and stone details.
The ground floor extended to the dining area and a kitchen separated only by an island, and large, glass doors leading to the deck in the back of the house.
“Do you bring all your boys and girls here?” I asked cheekily.
Harrison gave me an innocent look, slightly bewildered, as if he was surprised by something. “You’re the first.”
And there he made all my other words redundant. The first, first? As in, Emma hadn’t been here in two years of their dating?
Harrison’s lips stretched into a thin smile. “She doesn’t like forests far from cities. I could see the question in your eyes.”
A laugh burst out of me before I could contain it. “I think I’m in heaven.”
“I thought you might say that,” Harrison said and dropped his duffel by the door, then walked into the house properly.
He went over to the small bar in the living room, set down two glasses, and moved his index finger between the bottles.
“Ah, there it is.” He picked one up while I set my backpack by his duffel and walked over to him.
Of course, he had a record player on display, and many of the similar vinyls were sheathed in the colorful covers on the shelf below it. “Do you come here often?” I asked.
“Not as often as I’d like,” he said. “But when I have a deadline for a big essay, I like to drive up here, watch films, and write upstairs. The view of the mountain slope in winter would take your breath away.”
He poured us something golden brown into glasses, then offered one to me.
I didn’t even ask what it was. Harrison’s eyes encouraged me, liquid brown and so very alive.
“Hold on,” he said, then set his glass down.
He walked over to the fireplace, where the kindling and larger logs were already set like they were part of an exhibition, and he bent down for half a minute to light a match and push it to the clump of stray at the heart of it.
His ass was packed so tightly in his pants that I lost all interest in the delicate work of making a fire to focus on it. He was stunning. When he rose again, the fire was starting to burn brighter, but my gaze lingered on his waist, watching him turn around and walk toward me.
He picked up his glass, then raised it.
I did the same, letting them clink briefly before taking a small sip of the drink he’d given me. It smelled like smoke and wood and oak barrels. It stung on the way down, but only briefly, and warmth spread through me instantly.
“Is it a private space that you didn’t want to share with others?” I asked.
Harrison exhaled, his breath carrying a little trace of alcohol and all the warmth of its woodiness. “I guess you could say so. I love my apartment, but this is where I escape to.”
“Show me,” I said.
He smiled and reached for me, grabbing a fistful of my hoodie and pulling me in. “If you kiss me first.”
“What a bargain,” I snorted, leaning in easily and crushing my mouth against his.
Harrison was an excellent kisser. Maybe that was why it was so easy to forget that I’d never kissed a guy until that day at the gallery, and hadn’t kissed a guy truly until last night.
But with him, all that felt irrelevant. It felt like a footnote, of little interest, because the real deal was so fucking good.
When he pulled away from me, he wore a satisfied smile. “The things I’m gonna do to you,” he whispered. “Are you nervous?”
I held his gaze challengingly as I shook my head. “Not nervous.”
“What, then?”
“You told me to stay horny for you,” I said, covering his hand on my chest and pushing it down my torso until it moved over my hard dick.
Harrison’s eyes dazzled with interest. “Good boy.”
A shiver passed down my spine at those words. It was sudden enough to make me perk up to attention. “Huh, that…worked.”
Harrison laughed, then slipped his hand to the small of my back and led me away from the living room, showing me the house as requested.
There was a small gym on the other side of the ground floor, then a large bathroom with a walk-in shower and a fogged glass door leading to the deck, where a hot tub was built into the deck and covered against rain.
Upstairs, Harrison showed me his movie room.
It wasn’t a home cinema, exactly, but it had a projector mounted to the ceiling, a large enough screen, and a wide, comfortable sofa facing the screen.
Along the walls were shelves with film literature and countless DVDs.
For decoration, there were vintage cameras, a film reel in a can, and various little objects I couldn’t identify but which Harrison said were replicas of iconic props.
In another room, it felt like stepping into a writer’s wet dream.
He said that this was where he wrote his best essays and even some published articles.
There was a large, vintage pedestal desk with a brown leather chair behind it, set up in the middle of the room on a thick Persian rug, and all around were bookcases stuffed with well-worn books.
By the window was a reading nook I could lose myself in for days just gazing out.
By the nearer wall was a chess table flanked by two chairs facing each other.
“You’re kidding me,” I said.
Harrison crossed his heart. “I swear, I’m not even joking.”
“Is this real?” I asked. “You’re a hundred years old, Harrison. I love it.”
“I hate everything modern,” Harrison said. “Don’t even show me something that was built after 1975. I don’t want it.”
He let me enjoy the sight of everything in his office. I had a feeling I could deliver a good essay or two if I were writing them here. Then he led me to the last room, which was the bedroom.
Here, a very large bed was placed against the far wall, the frame made of wrought iron, and nightstands made of hardwood that matched the wardrobes and dressers.
There was another fireplace here, opposite the bed.
I could already picture the fire crackling while sweat covered me and Harrison pressed me into this humongous mattress.
There was another bathroom attached to the bedroom, though a little smaller than the downstairs one. The shower was big enough for two, and little else mattered.
“It’s such an incredible place,” I whispered. “I don’t think I want to go back.”
Harrison grinned and stepped in front of me, putting his hands on my waist. “Let’s just stay forever.”
“We can cut our own firewood and make little preserves for winter.”
“And we’ll compost everything for our garden,” he said.
“So we can grow tomatoes and peppers,” I added.
Harrison looked deep into my eyes. “You make it sound so simple.”
“What’s complicated about it?” I joked.
He laughed with me, and we stepped out into the hallway again.
Downstairs, the fire was burning like crazy, the space already a few degrees warmer. Harrison led me to the sofa facing the fireplace, and we sat down near each other.
Why me? I wanted to ask. Why here? Why now? But I kept my mouth shut as I drank the rest of the whiskey in my glass and set it on the table, watching the fire with Harrison.
Unprompted, Harrison said, “These last few weeks have left me so confused and tired. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you.”
I thought about it. Cutting through all the confusion seemed like a difficult job. “I just take things for what they are, I think.”
“I could learn a few things from you,” he said.
“Don’t sound so surprised.” My hand went to the back of his head just because. I scratched him, thinking how I always liked it when someone did that to me.
It worked. It was as simple as that. Harrison lifted his head a little, eyes closed, and leaned into my fingers like a cat.
“Want more of that?” Harrison asked, opening one eye and looking at my empty glass.
“No,” I said. “Let’s have more later.”