Chapter 8
HARLOW
We find ourselves in a predicament.
Those are the words of Stone’s email a few days after we ended our time in Seattle.
Walking along the beach with a smoothie in hand, I recall what those few days with Stone were like. Then a tinge of disappointment hits me that I had to return to Florida, and him to Illinois. Then a smile begins to hint on the corner of my mouth.
I slept.
I was held.
I wanted more.
His arms around me felt like a new heaven, and his scent I could inhale a thousand times, a sort of subtle crisp shower-fresh smell. I wore his shirt, I kissed his lips, and I wished his hand would have traveled up my thigh to touch me in those sensitive spots that pulse when he’s near.
I kind of curse his respectable boundaries, because if anyone is going to knock down my bricks, then I’m beginning to realize that it’s him. And my body is taking tiny steps to be closer to him.
Pulling out my phone, my thumb scans the email again. It’s refreshing to communicate email letters and not text messages.
Harlow,
We find ourselves in a predicament, and you know why.
Distance does crazy things to people. But our biggest quandary…
Did I just say quandary? See, I’m already going out of my mind.
You’ve made me unrecognizable, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
Nah, I kind of enjoy it. It was about time I became a gentleman.
Did you study what a hat trick is? I’ll send your hockey-knowledge quiz soon.
-Stone
A deep exhale leaves my body. There isn’t one word he wrote that I could disagree with. It’s horribly true that distance might make feelings grow fonder. That could bring a little misery to my life.
Glancing at the ocean, I used to feel like my life was crashing down just like the waves. Now, I feel a new sensation, similar to new waves forming.
At the line where hard, wet sand turns to soft, I sit down to type back.
Stone,
It seems we do have a problem. You know it’s dangerous to write. Words make a connection grow. We should probably take some time before jumping into… Wait, what are we jumping into? Are we even jumping? Gah, don’t you hate when an unexplainable connection doesn’t have a label?
A hat trick: Something like a player scoring three times in the same game.
I noticed that the internet tells me that you had many hat tricks in your career.
You’ve seen me two times now. The retreat in Lake Spark with Commander Gloria, and Seattle.
You haven’t quite scored a hat trick yet when it comes to us.
How is your Illinois weather? I’m in the high 70s, with sun, thank you very much. Are you freezing yet?
-Harlow
Sighing yet again, I decide to head back home.
Get down a few chapters about a billionaire who gets his secretary pregnant.
Sometimes my plots are ridiculous, but it’s the sex scenes and happy endings that are the escape that everyone needs.
This billionaire is demanding. He pulls her hair and won’t stop until she comes, before he stuffs his cock inside of her.
What he doesn’t know is his office affair, where he bends her over his desk while he’s on a conference call, will end up with a little surprise that she doesn’t plan on telling him, because he’s a cocky asshole who doesn’t want a family.
Pfff, that will change by chapter twenty.
It's the next morning and three chapters later, and I notice that Stone emailed early. Does he sleep?
Harlow,
Huh, you could be my hat trick as you’re someone who is one long game.
Never thought of that, but it makes me a little more resolute.
It just means that I have to see you again.
I’ve thought of hopping on a plane to surprise you.
But I’ve already surprised you once. I think the apple is now in your basket, in terms of taking steps.
Low 40s here, but it doesn’t matter because late autumn is too breathtaking to complain about weather.
The leaves are in their last weeks of orange, yellow, and red.
They will turn to that weird brownish-gray color soon and be extra crunchy under your feet.
Then the town becomes colorful, with holiday lights and overdone shop windows with little trains riding around fake cotton snow.
The farmer’s market gets vicious about who sells the best candles, stockings, and cookies.
We’re not even at Thanksgiving yet, but the battle is on.
It's my niece's first Christmas. I need to outdo Isla’s brother for the uncle-of-the-year award. Presents for sure, but my secret weapon is a stocking with Nora’s name embroidered from the knitting club in town.
For my piece de resistance, I’m getting her an overly expensive snow globe with dancing bears inside. I’m going to nail it.
Lake Spark is a perfect time to visit… hint, hint.
-Stone
I laugh out loud. This guy is sometimes ridiculous, but it lights up any day. And the undertone that I should visit is something I’ve thought about. But is an attachment to someone where it can’t really go anywhere a good idea?
It will fuck up somehow. We have too many miles between us, and the possibility that I’ll freak out when he’s sliding into me and making me see stars. I never know when it’ll hit me. That feeling of constraint in my chest that causes me to gasp for air.
Stone could never be just a friend. Friends don’t kiss or want to strip one another naked.
We’re moving slowly in an unknown direction with no map.
But then I imagine the moment I could snap and give into this unbearable feeling that I need more of him physically.
I’m confident he would take his time, kissing every inch before his tongue finds my pussy, and I comb my fingers through his hair as he’s doing it.
I would beg him to be inside me, and he would comply.
I shake my head of the fantasy and decide to hold off replying. Until two days later.
Stone,
Shall I already order the trophy for uncle of the year?
Damn, you’re going to extremes. I think I need to follow this journey until the big day.
You do realize that she has no clue what’s going on.
You’ll need to take photos as proof and tell her when she’s older.You’ve turned into a Lake Spark local if you are overly enthusiastic for the holidays.
I got your hint. It makes me ponder. Oh God, it does.
If you could get inside my head, then you’d have to touch yourself and think of me.
-Harlow
I hit send, then realize what the hell I just wrote. I’ve initiated a world that I probably shouldn’t, leading us through a labyrinth of more confusion, like fuel thrown on this emblazing fire.
Bad me. Very bad me.
Almost as bad as the email I get a few hours later.
Harlow,
Have you picked out a gravestone for me yet? I think I just died.
You’ve shared the secret of your thoughts. One that I was confident I already knew, but that’s beside the point.
You think of me. How my mouth would glide along your skin and cause a ripple through your body.
Your lips would part, unsure but wanting, which is why you would let me drag the edge of your shirt up with my teeth while my fingers sneak under the waistband of your jeans and slip into your drenched pussy to stroke.
You’d clutch tight to my hair because my tongue wouldn’t leave you until you shudder underneath me.
I’ve thought about it with my cock in my hand, and I know you do too when you touch yourself.
I feel safe to write that. Hell, I’m surprised I have it in me to write this.
Maybe I should reconsider my genre and begin to write a series on billionaires.
You know, the kind when he has a one-night stand then discovers later that she’s his new employee.
Yeah, I read Billionaire and His Intern.
You nailed it on the dirty parts… Nail… see what I did there?
My point is, you have it in you. You’re allowed to want it off the pages.
How is the pondering going?
-Stone
The heat in my body is domineering as I tuck my hand into my underwear and my finger gets soaked in my arousal.
If he were here now, he would be on his knees and parting my thighs open to enjoy the view before he insists on taking over with his tongue.
Then with his hands around my wrists, he would yank me up to kiss me before he guides me to the bed and opens me wide, with a quick tease of his cock before he slides right into me.
His searing eyes would drill into me.
Just as they do when his hands aren’t on me.
I pant while an orgasm takes over my body, leaving me breathless.
It’s a cold shower and contemplation that clears my head.
A week later, I find myself at a smoothie bar with my friend Flo. We went to high school together way back, and not only is she my friend, but she also reads my books in the rough stages, not to mention she owns a beauty salon, and I may get a discount.
Flo twirls her sun-kissed blonde hair around her finger.
“Listen, Harlow, I’m not sure what’s going on, but your newest book is…
different. No offense, but compared to your other books, this is quite a step up.
The steamy scenes have turned to five-pepper levels, and to be honest, there is more…
finesse to the story. You’re steering away from over the top to…
emotions.” She takes a sip from her straw.
My brows raise. “Is that so?” I kind of already thought it.
“Yes. Was it that writer’s retreat? See, I knew it would help.”
I scoff a huff. “Gloria, the organizer, was…” I wave her off. “Never mind.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that she’s eccentric and probably has a yappy little dog that she carries in a basket when she’s not working. But it seems to have sparked something in you. I searched the web, and Lake Spark is just gorgeous.”
My mouth hitches up in acknowledgment. “It is a quaint little town.”
“I bet.” She smiles, and then it drops. “Now, chitchat over. What the hell is changing your direction?”
I try to look anywhere but across the table, then I admit defeat. “Uhm, you see…” I nervously tuck hair behind my ear. “I kind of met someone at the retreat. A hockey player who is writing a book…”
Flo drops her jaw. “What? Ooh, I bet he could be prime research if you want to write a hockey romance.”
I shake my head. “Or not.” I’m not even going to attempt it.
“Okay, well, Mr. Hockey Guy is sparking your creativity. Is he hot?”
I take a long sip from my green drink. “Maybe.” I shrug.
“Oh yeah?” She raises a brow. “First, you know your texts indicated that you hated that retreat, but I guess the organizer did something right… She brought you together with Mr. Hockey Hottie Guy. Your muse.” Flo grins wide.
If only she knew that it was slightly more. Stone is the guy who is making me come alive off the pages too.
“What’s your point, Flo?” I want to wrap this up. Couldn’t she just focus on the weather forecast or something?
“Go back to Lake Spark. Clearly that little town fueled your creative juices. Seriously, go there.”
Oh, now… this is… a nudge or a big push.
My thoughts turn sharply in my head.
“Uh.” I croak a sound. “Is that really a good idea? I mean, hockey McHottie is there.”
She reaches across the table to touch my hand resting in the middle.
“I think… if this is the first sprinkle of normalcy with a guy in a long time, then… explore that.” Her sincerity punches me in the gut because she’s been through it all with me, more an observer of my aftermath, so maybe she has a point from a different lens.
“I don’t want to treat him like some experiment, you know? Oh, Harlow can finally take a step, let's use him to explore.” I mock my own words. “He… surprised me in Seattle.”
Flo brings her arms into the air with shock on her face. “What the hell? You were keeping this news from me? Holy cow, that is just… you have to go to Lake Spark.” Now she pleads and looks like a jumping bean in her seat.
“I’ll think about it.”
He’s in my head. He touches me even when he isn’t present. Wild thoughts enter my mind and an inkling has me wanting to make a move.
“Don’t think. Just do it,” Flo insists.
I can only flash a weak smile.
Finishing up at the smoothie bar, I take a stroll into town.
I’m lucky it’s tourist central here, which means everything is near to one another to make it easy.
It’s quieter than normal because it’s low season.
I don’t need anything at the grocery store, but I buy an avocado and a bag of dinosaur crackers anyway.
On my walk back, a realization hits me.
I’ve been scared, but that doesn’t have to be me anymore, which is why I open my laptop to write as soon as I get home.
Stone,
It’s been a week since I’ve emailed. I was contemplating, but it’s over.
It seems the thoughts swirling in my head won’t give up. Apparently, it’s been confirmed that my recent inspiration has come from… Lake Spark. Or you. But let’s not make a big deal about that, and don’t get cocky either. So, Lake Spark is where I will go.
Damn it, now I need to rummage for a hat and gloves in the back of my closet. They’re behind my flip-flops and sun hats because winter isn’t that exciting here, except for a lower ocean temperature.
You don’t happen to know a place where I can stay? The Dizzy Duck doesn’t seem to be my calling this time around. Plus, I’m watching my chocolate chip cookie intake. Totally not cool.
-Harlow
Harlow,
You already know my answer but how polite of you to ask. My home needs its first guest to get my five-star review. Breakfast is included, with non-frozen bread and no coffee offered. If you’re lucky, I might even carry your suitcase up the stairs to…
…my room? Only if you want. To sleep is fine.
-Stone
I snort a laugh at what I hope is sarcasm in his email.
I want more. The thoughts in my head of his lips trailing my body and his fingers guiding my jaw to ensure I look at him are something that I can no longer ignore.
A flicker of hope and a push of courage for a safe haven that involves his body is apparent that I can follow through.
My lips tuck into my mouth as I repeat in my head the sentiment that I’ve felt as the days go by.
Letting out a deep exhale, I type.
Stone,
Please make my reservation. I would like to book your room. I just don’t know if we will need the do-not-disturb sign or not. I’m sorry. I just…
Something tells me that it doesn’t matter. We both want to see one another anyway.
I’ll send you my flight info and times when I will visit. Does my reservation include airport pickup? I’m not a great driver. Those duck and deer crossing signs along the winding road scare the hell out of me. Are warnings every quarter of a mile really necessary?
See you in a week or two.
Harlow
P.S You said a connection with me is one long game. Three visits for us… It would appear that you’ll get your hat trick.