Chapter Fourteen Harper #2
“ARE YOU GUYS KISSING AGAIN?” Connor’s voice cracks on the word kissing, like he’s equal parts horrified and delighted. I let out a strangled laugh and bury my face in Harrison’s chest as he groans.
“The kid’s got no shame,” I say. “We should go rescue him.”
“In a second.” Harrison presses one more kiss to my forehead, quick and soft, but sure. “Just wanted you to know I heard you. And I’m not running away. I just have a job to do, okay?”
I nod, smiling through the surprising butterflies fluttering through my chest. “Yeah. Okay.”
I fall into a deep sleep on the couch. The kind that wraps around me like a warm blanket. My dreams are filled with the echoes of laughter and the sound of Connor’s voice cheering for Harrison, the crisp air of the rink, and the sweet warmth of Harrison’s kisses.
But then, a sound breaks through the comfort of my slumber, my phone buzzing insistently on the nightstand. I squint at the screen through the haze of sleep, blinking rapidly as I try to make sense of the messages flooding in.
Harrison
Are you awake?
Harrison
I know it’s late, but…
Harrison
Just checking in on you.
Harrison
Please tell me you’re not asleep yet.
I rub my eyes, pulling myself into a sitting position. The clock reads twelve-thirty-four, and my heart starts racing because something in his message sounds urgent. Several worst-case scenarios run through my head as I hastily text him back.
Me
Yeah, I’m awake.
Silence stretches for a moment while I watch the three dots dance on my screen.
Harrison
Thank Christ. Open the door.
Open the door?
What door?
Where is he?
What’s going on?
Me
What? What are you talking about?
Harrison
Open your door, Harp. I just need a minute.
“Shit.” A rush of adrenaline courses through me as I stumble off the couch.
I don’t even bother to look in a mirror, my hair most likely a wild mess, the imprint of the pillow I was laying on undoubtedly embedded into my cheek.
I look like a troll in my sleep shorts and tank top, but Harrison needs me.
Something’s wrong.
My mind races with possibilities.
He’s here?
Why is he here?
He shouldn’t be.
He has an early morning.
He should be in bed…
Did he miss his flight?
Did something happen?
I yank open the door and there he is. Harrison stands in the dimly lit hallway, silhouetted by the light streaming from the city lights outside, looking impossibly handsome in jeans and long-sleeved Anaheim Stars T-shirt and a team ballcap on his head, the brim pushed low so I can barely see his eyes.
“What are you doing he—”
“Shhh.” He places his finger across my lips, and his other hand snakes around my waist as he walks me back inside.
The mere closeness of him heats my body from the inside out making me hyperaware of how many times my body has craved this exact closeness.
He stops the door with his foot and let’s it click shut as quietly as possible, I assume trying not to wake Connor.
“He asleep?” he asks, his warm breath washing over my cheek sending butterflies spiraling through my stomach.
I nod silently.
“Good.” He studies my face, those piercing blue eyes searching mine like they’re trying to unravel a mystery he’s been pondering for years.
I can feel every heartbeat pulsing between us.
I swallow hard as I step back slightly, but his hand tightens around my waist, drawing me closer.
“Don’t,” he whispers, though it’s less of a command and more of a plea.
“What are you doing here?” I manage to ask, but it comes out breathy, like the question is more a wish than genuine curiosity.
“I wanted to see you one last time before I have to go,” he whispers. The way his gaze dances over my face makes my heart race. “I just…I really needed to taste you…one more time.”
The gravity of his words sinks into my bones, sending warmth flooding through me. “H—”
“Please…” he interrupts gently, brushing a thumb across my cheek. “Let me.” My breath hitches as I feel the heat radiating off him, pulling me closer, inviting me to forget the world outside for just a moment.
Before I can respond, he grabs the bill of his hat and turns it around and then he leans in, his intent clear as he brushes his lips against mine.
It’s gentle at first, an exploration, a question wrapped in comfort and unspoken longing.
My heart thunders in my chest, and instinctively, I melt against him leaning into the kiss, feeling the soft press of his mouth to mine, tasting the lingering sweetness of the moment.
And then the air shifts.
Because I want more.
No, I need more.
I’m desperately craving it.
I grip his face with my hands and kiss him back, hard.
My tongue meeting his stroke for stroke.
His fingers dig into my skin, playing with the waistband of my sleep shorts and it’s all I can do not to beg him to slip his hand inside and touch me.
His thumb swipes up just underneath my breast and his chest rumbles with a low growl the moment he realizes I’m not wearing a bra.
God, I’ve missed his mouth.
I’ve missed his hands on my body, the comfort and ease that washes over me when he’s close to me. I’ve missed the way his tongue gently plays with mine, licking, stroking, teasing, before he becomes ravenous and possessive. Like he’s playing with his food before he eats it.
I want him to play with me now.
I want it so badly I can taste it.
I want him to rip my clothes off and explore my body with his tongue. I want to feel his soft touch on my skin. I want to push my fingers through his hair and remember what it feels like to have his face between my legs, devouring me like I’m his one and only meal.
I want to make him feel good too. I want to pleasure him until he can’t see straight. Apologize over and over again with my hands, my lips, my body. I want to feel his cock inside me again. The stiff member I feel between us now, I want it. I want it all.
I want him.
Our mouths collide with the urgency of two drowning people gasping for air.
Each stroke of his tongue against mine feels like he’s reclaiming something stolen; ten years of mornings and nights, of casual touches and familiar tastes, of pleasured moans and raging orgasms. My heart pounds against my ribs as I press closer.
The thought flashes through me that this kiss, this intimate moment between us could end quickly and that’s the last thing I want.
So, I kiss him harder, desperately, as if I could somehow fold all those lost years into this one breathless encounter.
When we finally break apart he leans his forehead against mine, leaving just enough space between us so that I can see the emotion in his eyes, surprise mixed with a tenderness I remember him always having.
Our chests heave and I arch against him, my body saying what my voice can’t.
I’m yours if you want me. His gaze drops to where my tank top clings to my chest, my hardened peaks making an appearance.
The muscles in his throat work as he swallows, conflict etched across his features, desire warring with something that looks almost like fear.
“It’s okay, H…”
“No,” he murmurs, shaking his head, his eyes squeezed closed as if he knows he’s regretting his answer already.
“But—”
“Not now. Not like this.”
“You don’t want me?” I can’t hide the disappointment from my voice no matter how hard I try. Hell, it’s all I can do to keep my chin from quivering.
His head snaps up, his icy blue eyes piercing mine. “Fuck, Harper, is that what you think?”
My mouth falls open and I start to shake my head. “I…I don’t know.”
He brings his hand up and pushes my hair from my face. “Babe, you couldn’t be more wrong.” He steps closer to me so that our bodies are flush, his hardened cock pressing against my lower stomach. “Do you feel that?”
God, yes, I feel it.
“Trust me when I tell you, Harper, that there is nothing I would rather do than spend the rest of this night with you in my arms, in my fucking bed, where I can reacquaint myself with your every gorgeous curve.” He licks his lips.
“I’ve wanted you so badly over these last ten years that I’ve all but named my own fist after you. ”
His confession makes me blush.
“I wanted you since the very first night you stepped up with Connor in that arena.”
My eyes dart between his, confusion etching across my brow. “I don’t understand. Then why—”
“Because when we get there—and trust me when I say I have every intention of getting there—it’s going to mean something.
I want it to mean something, Harp. I don’t want a quick fuck to scratch an itch.
I want you. All of you. I want to get it right with you.
I want to take my time. Feel you. Taste you.
Sink myself inside of you and fuck you until you can barely move and then do it all over again.
” He leans forward and kisses my forehead before he says, “Because hearing you scream my name as you come on my cock will be the experience of a lifetime. Better than any hockey game I could ever win.”
Well, when you put it that way…
I blink at him, each word washing over me in heady waves, the weight of his confession sinking deep into my heart.
My cheeks flush from the sheer intensity of everything he just said.
My body hums with anticipation, and it feels like the world around us fades to black, leaving just the two of us cocooned in this moment, this electric, breathless moment.
“Do you really mean that?” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. The belief in his words plants a hopeful seed deep inside me, but the worry echoes in the back of my mind. Can this actually be real after everything?
“Harper,” he breathes, his hand still tangled in my hair, fingers brushing against my neck and sending shivers down my spine.
“I’m not playing games here. I want you to know that every second I spend away from you just makes me realize how much I want you back in my life.
And Connor too. I’m not going to rush it. I want to savor every fucking moment.”
The butterflies in my stomach explode into a flurry of excitement, and suddenly all my fears about losing him seem to dim in the warmth of his gaze.
“Okay,” I say softly, letting the weight of my heart flow into the words.
“Okay.” I don’t want to ruin this moment, this fragile thing between us that feels so right despite the uncertainty.
“Okay,” he repeats with a gentle nod. His expression shifts and he swallows again, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I should go. I just really wanted a taste of you to take with me on this stretch.”
“I hope you got what you wanted.”
“Not even close,” he tells me with a confident shake of his head, his gaze falling to the stiff peaks poking through my tank top. He grips the back of my neck and pulls me in for one more soft kiss. “But it’s enough. For now,” he murmurs. “Until next time.”
“Until next time.” Hope flutters through my chest. “You’ll text me when you can?”
“You know I will.” He backs up, opening the door and standing in the doorway. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
He takes one step out my door and I’m stepping toward him like a moth to a flame. I grab his T-shirt greedily and tug him toward me one last time, crashing my lips to his. His hands fly up to my face and then caress the back of my head as he angles me and dips his tongue between my lips.
One last taste for the road.
The guttural groan emanating from his chest is enough to light my body on fire all over again.
“Goodbye, H,” I whisper when I finally let go. “Good luck out there. We’ll be cheering for you.”
“Bye Harp. Give Connor a hug for me.”
“You know I will.” I smile repeating the phrase he just said to me.
I watch him turn and walk down the hall to the elevator. When I hear the ding that tells me he’s on his way down, I close my door, lock it, and then lean back against it. My hand on my chest, I replay every moment of his lips on mine and then turn off the lights and head to bed.
There’s a battery-operated boyfriend with his name on it that needs to finish me off or hell if I’ll be sleeping at all tonight.