Chapter Twenty
~ Harlow ~
I scooped Dan into my arms before he could argue, ignoring his surprised laugh as I carried him up the narrow staircase to our bedroom. His weight felt right against my chest, like he belonged there.
I'd spent weeks imagining this moment—bringing him home, showing him that I could take care of him, be what he needed. Now that it was actually happening, my heart hammered so hard I was surprised he couldn't hear it.
"Harlow!" Dan protested weakly, his arms automatically wrapping around my neck for balance. "Your back—the burns—"
"All healed," I assured him, tightening my grip as I navigated the last few steps. The burns had been painful, sure, but they were nothing compared to what Dan had suffered. Besides, I'd been hauling lumber for the new barn within a month of the fire.
Carrying Dan was a pleasure, not a burden.
The bedroom door stood partially open, revealing the king-sized bed with Ma's quilt waiting for us. I nudged it wider with my foot and carried Dan across the threshold like I'd seen in movies. It felt right, somehow. Important.
When I reached the foot of the bed, I let Dan slide down the front of my body until his feet touched the floor, his chest and stomach dragging against mine in a way that sent heat racing through me.
His hands gripped my biceps to steady himself, and even that simple touch made my skin feel too tight, too sensitive.
"So," Dan said, a little breathless from the journey. "This is our bedroom."
The way he said "our" made something warm unfurl in my chest. I nodded, suddenly tongue-tied now that we were actually here, alone, with the bed looming large behind us.
I'd built this room with my own hands, measured the space for the bed frame to ensure it would be big enough for my large frame and still leave plenty of room for Dan.
I'd positioned the windows so morning light would hit the pillows just right.
I'd installed the ceiling fan myself because I knew Dan liked to sleep cool.
But I'd done more than just build the room.
"I, uh, I talked to Newt," I admitted, feeling heat creep up my neck. "About... stuff."
Dan's eyebrows shot up. "Stuff?"
"Sex stuff," I clarified, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat. "He showed me some websites. Instructional videos. And I got... supplies."
Dan's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't laugh or look disgusted, which had been my secret fear. Instead, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Supplies?"
I nodded, moving to the nightstand beside the bed. My hand was steadier than I expected as I pulled open the drawer and took out what I'd hidden there—a bottle of lubricant and a box of condoms. I held them out to Dan like an offering, or maybe a question.
"Newt said we'd need these," I explained, watching Dan's face carefully for any sign of discomfort or rejection.
Dan took the items from me, examining them with an expression I couldn't quite read. His fingers traced over the label on the lubricant bottle, then moved to the box of condoms, checking the size. A small smile played at his lips as he noted I'd purchased the larger size.
"Harlow," he said finally, looking up at me with those warm eyes that always seemed to see straight through me. "Are you sure you're ready for this? Because once we take this step, there's no going back."
I swallowed hard, but my answer came without hesitation.
"I'm sure." I took a step closer, eliminating the space between us.
"I want you, Dan. All of you. I see the way other couples look at each other, touch each other.
The connection they have." My hands found his waist, anchoring him to me.
"I need that with you. Need to know you're mine. That you belong to me."
The words sounded possessive, maybe too much so, but they were honest. I'd spent so much of my life being told what I couldn't have, what I shouldn't want. But I wanted Dan with a certainty that left no room for doubt.
Dan tossed the lube and condoms onto the bed without looking, his hands coming up to wrap around my neck as he pressed his body against mine. "I already do," he whispered, his eyes never leaving mine.
Those three words—simple, direct, certain—hit me like a physical force.
I knew it was true. Had known it since that moment in the barn when he'd first touched me, or maybe even earlier.
Dan had been mine from the first, just as I'd been his.
But knowing something in your head and feeling it in your body are different things.
I needed the physical proof of our connection.
Needed to feel him around me, under me, with me.
Needed to mark him as mine in the most primal way possible.
Needed to know that the bond between us wasn't just something I'd imagined or hoped for, but something real and tangible that no one—not Collins, not Ma's disapproval, not even my own doubts about what I deserved—could take away.
"Show me," I whispered, my voice rough with emotion and desire. "Show me I'm yours too."
Dan's pupils dilated at my words, his breathing quickening in a way that told me he wanted this just as badly as I did. His hands slid from my neck to cup my face, thumbs stroking over my cheekbones with a tenderness that made my chest ache.
"With pleasure," he murmured, rising onto his toes to press his lips against mine.
Dan's mouth claimed mine in a kiss that stole my breath. This wasn't the gentle press of lips we'd shared in the hospital or the careful kisses during his recovery.
This was hunger—raw and demanding.
His tongue pushed past my lips, tasting, exploring, taking what was his.
I'd never been kissed like this before, like I was essential, like the person kissing me might die without the contact.
My hands tightened instinctively on his waist, pulling him closer until I felt every inch of him pressed against me.
His fingers worked at the buttons of my flannel shirt with surprising dexterity for someone who'd been shot just months ago. One by one, they slipped free until the shirt hung open. Dan's hands slid inside, palms hot against my bare skin, and I sucked in a sharp breath at the contact.
"God, look at you," Dan murmured, pushing the shirt off my shoulders.
It dropped to the floor behind me, forgotten.
"All this time in the hospital, I'd almost forgotten just how.
.." His hands traced the contours of my chest, fingers trailing over the muscles that years of farm work had built.
"Perfect. You're absolutely perfect, Harlow. "
The word "perfect" had never been applied to me before. Doctors, teachers, even Ma—they'd always focused on what I lacked, what I couldn't do, what made me different. But Dan looked at me like I was something precious, something to be treasured rather than fixed.
His thumbs brushed across my nipples, and a jolt of pleasure shot straight to my groin. When he did it again, more deliberately this time, I couldn't hold back the groan that escaped me. My cock strained against my jeans, already hard and aching just from his touch on my chest.
"You like that?" he asked, pinching lightly.
"Yes," I managed, my voice strangled. "I didn't know—didn't know it would feel like that."
Dan's smile was wickedly satisfied. "Just wait. There's so much more I want to show you."
My hands found the hem of his t-shirt, tugging it upward with more eagerness than grace.
Dan lifted his arms to help, and then his shirt joined mine on the floor.
The sight of his bare chest, with its still-pink surgical scar just below his right shoulder, made my throat tighten with emotion.
He'd almost died. The bullet meant for my family had nearly taken him from me forever.
But here he was, alive and warm and wanting me.
We undressed each other frantically after that, hands fumbling with belts and zippers, shoving jeans down legs, kicking off shoes. When we finally fell onto the bed, both completely naked, I nearly lost my breath at the sensation of Dan's bare skin against mine from chest to ankle.
He was smaller than me, leaner, but every bit as perfect.
His body told the story of his life—the toned muscles of a man who kept himself in shape for his job, the scars that spoke of past injuries and adventures, the freshest mark where Collins' bullet had torn through him.
I wanted to touch all of him, to memorize every inch with my hands and mouth.
"Dan," I whispered, overwhelmed by the rush of emotion and desire. "I don't—I'm not sure how to—"
He silenced me with another kiss, this one gentler but no less passionate. "Don't think so much," he murmured against my lips. "Just feel."
His hand slid between our bodies, wrapping around my cock with confident pressure. I gasped, my hips jerking upward involuntarily at the sensation. He stroked me slowly, his grip firm but gentle, thumb swiping over the sensitive head on each upstroke.
"Jesus," I breathed, my head falling back against the pillow as pleasure radiated through me. "That feels—God, Dan—"
"I want to feel you inside me," he whispered against my ear, his breath hot and damp. "Want you to fill me up, make me yours completely."
The words sent a surge of heat through my body, making my cock twitch in his hand. I'd watched the videos Newt had shown me, had spent hours researching to make sure I wouldn't hurt Dan. But theory and practice were different things, and despite my desire, I was nervous.
"I don't want to hurt you," I confessed, reaching for the lube we'd tossed onto the bed earlier. My hand trembled slightly as I picked up the bottle.
Dan's expression softened. "You won't. I'll guide you." He took the bottle from my hand, popping the cap and squeezing a generous amount onto my fingers. "Start with one finger. Go slow. Let me adjust."