25. Daphne

25

DAPHNE

"I think we got some good stuff," Lydia assured me as she helped me remove my mic, which was taped to my chest.

"Yeah, I think so." I wasn't sure if my co-signing of her opinion was for her benefit or mine in a failed attempt to convince myself that I'd made good TV tonight.

Lydia's tight smile and nod told me that I wasn't the only one trying to put a positive spin on what I could easily classify as the most boring date ever recorded in history.

It had started off strong. Out of all the dates I'd gone on, Mark Lyons had made an impression on me. If you googled tall, dark, and handsome, his face would be in the first ten results. He stood an impressive six foot two inches tall, with dark hair, light amber eyes, tanned skin, and good teeth. His smile was lethal. I was sure it had gotten him out of his fair share of trouble and into even more.

He was funny, smart, and seemed like a decent guy all around. I had the personality of toast—not cinnamon sugar toast, avocado toast, or even buttered toast, just plain toast.

The most entertaining moment came when a gust of wind blew up, and Mark saved me from mooning the entire pier. Other than that momentary excitement, it was a one-way ticket to Snore Fest.

We'd visited Aunt Rhonda at the Moore Farms Moonshine stand, so there was going to be good publicity for the business. Not to mention, the sweet tea she'd given me had caused me to loosen up a little. But even a little liquid lubricant hadn't helped me tap into any witty banter or intelligent conversation. I'd answered all of Mark's questions with one-word answers and dropped the ball when it came to follow-up inquiries about him. At one point, I asked him what his favorite color was. I mean, can you think of a less interesting question to ask someone on a date?

It wasn't entirely my fault. I was distracted. The problem wasn't my date, the atmosphere, or my comfort level; it was the distractingly attractive man seated on a bench the entire evening. All night, I could feel Harlan watching me. Everywhere I went, he was tracking me. It made me uncomfortable—not in a creepy way, in a sexy way. His attention turned me on. His gaze was like a physical touch—a caress that sent tingles spreading through me.

As Lydia packed up the mic, her phone rang. As soon as I saw her face, I knew that it was her wife. She always lit up whenever Esther called or was even brought up in conversation. The two had been together for thirty years and married for fifteen and were still in the puppy love stage. It was adorable and inspiring.

"See you tomorrow." Lydia waved as she answered her phone and headed down the dock.

I glanced around and saw that Phil, Ernie, and Davina had already taken off. They'd all headed out for a drink after we got the ‘second date' photos with Mark. My phone buzzed, and I looked down to see that it was a message from an unknown number that happened to be the source of my crash and burn date.

This is Harlan . Meet me under the dock.

I lifted my head and looked over at the bench that he'd been seated on all night. He was gone. Aunt Rhonda had just finished closing up, and I knew that she was waiting for me. If I met Harlan, I'd have to tell her that I wasn't going to go home with her.

Me: How did you get my number?

Harlan: Meet me and I'll tell you .

Well, I had to meet him now. As I walked over to the stand, a voice in the back of my head was telling me, This is a bad idea.

No good can come from meeting Harlan.

No, but you could come . The voice in the back of my head now sounded suspiciously like Nadia.

When I reached the back of the stand, I took a deep breath. "Aunt Rhonda, I'll meet you at home later."

"Oh, Buttercup, I don't mind waitin' for you if you have more work to do."

"No, um, I'm done with work. I'm just gonna…" I thought about lying and saying I was going to meet my friends for a drink, but decided a half-truth was better. "I'm gonna take a walk on the beach."

"Alright, if you're sure."

"I am."

She gave me a quick hug and headed to the parking lot. I watched her go and wondered if I was doing the right thing. I quickly came to the conclusion that it didn't matter if it was right or not. I missed Harlan. I wanted to see Harlan. I was going to meet Harlan.

My legs were shaking as I walked down the steps to the beach below. My heart was thudding so hard against my ribcage that it felt like they were going to crack. Waves crashed onto the shore as I reached the sand. My sandals sank into the soft surface. I glanced to my left, looking for Harlan. I was turning my head to the right when I felt his hand wrap around my wrist and pull me beneath the dock.

I found myself standing against a wooden pillar with Harlan in front of me, staring down at me with a hunger, a desire that had my entire body lighting up like the sky on the Fourth of July.

"How was your date?"

His voice was deep and husky, making my insides melt into a puddle of lust.

"I was, um…" I licked my lips nervously. I wasn't sure where the butterflies flitting around low in my belly had come from. This man had a different level of effect on me. One I'd never experienced before. "I was a little distracted."

"Hmmm," he hummed as he lifted his hand and brushed the strands of hair on my forehead behind my ear. "Is that right?"

His question might sound innocent, but it was anything but.

"Yeah, there was this guy sitting on a bench that kept staring at me."

"What a creep."

"I know, right?" I breathed as my lips curled in a grin. "And he got my number somehow."

"You should tell your friend Nadia not to leave her phone unattended during boot camp."

I gasped. "You looked through her phone?"

"No, I asked your Aunt Rhonda for it so I could text you my number in case Dini made any more escapes," he explained with a grin as his hand ran down my bare arm.

The rough texture of his fingertips left a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Tingles swarmed through me, like bees around a hive. A shiver raced down my spine, and I told myself that I needed to go back up on the dock where there were more people. If not, I didn't trust myself not to do something that could get me arrested.

I'd never been tempted to have sex in a public place before. Even my people-pleasing self couldn't take the risk of being caught for my college boyfriend, and that was his kink.

"I didn't like seeing you with Lyons tonight," his deep voice gritted out.

My first impulse was to say that I was sorry, but I stopped myself. His feelings on the subject were not my responsibility. I hadn't done anything wrong.

"And I don't like thinking about you having your first kiss with someone else under here." The back of his knuckles brushed along my jawline, and I automatically closed my eyes. "Your cheeks are flushed."

"I had a sweet tea earlier. They get like that when I drink."

"You're saying that you're blushing because you had a drink two hours ago?"

"Yep."

"It's not because you're turned on?" he argued.

"Nope," I lied.

He took a step closer to me as his hand gripped my hip, and then started moving lower down my outer thigh. I could feel the heat of his palm through the thin cotton material of my dress. I tilted my head back to see him staring down at me.

"So you're telling me if I slid my hand up your dress and felt your panties, they wouldn't be wet?"

There was a voice in my head screaming for me to walk away. To go back up on the boardwalk. I could hear the sounds of people above us. This was dangerous. Harlan was dangerous. He'd unlocked a side of me that I never knew existed. It was unnerving and also really hot.

"I don't know," I breathed. "There's one way to find out."

He moaned as he shifted, squeezing his thigh between my legs and placing his foot between my feet. His hand slid under the hem of my skirt and dipped beneath my panties. I gasped as his fingers grazed my clit and began to stroke up and down my sex, sliding easily from the arousal coating my folds.

Leaning down, his lips brushed the rim of my ear as he whispered, "Did the sweet tea make your pussy wet, or was it me?"

"You," I whispered, as he lifted his head and looked down at me. "It was you."

The cocky, satisfied grin that spread on his face should have turned me off, but it didn't. In fact, it did the opposite. When he started to remove his hand, on instinct, I reached out and grabbed his wrist, holding it in place. His eyes widened slightly, and his jaw ticked.

"Please," I begged as desperation consumed me.

The groan that ripped from his chest as he kept his hand between my legs only turned me on more. He began to grind the base of his palm against my clit as he teased my opening before pushing two fingers inside of me.

My knees buckled as I reached out and grabbed his upper arms, and a whimper of pleasure escaped from me. He leaned down and claimed me in an all-consuming kiss, swallowing my cry. His tongue masterfully explored the recesses of my mouth as I clung to him and rocked my hips against his hand.

As the kiss intensified, so did the sensations running through me. Every cell in my body began to pulse rapidly. Every nerve ending was electrified. My heart beat erratically as the pleasure built to a nearly unbearable level.

Just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, that it was too much, tremors began to shake in my core as my climax surged through me. My inner muscles milked his fingers as they continued to draw out my sensual gratification. Behind my eyelids, flashes of light exploded. A rush of warmth erupted like a volcano, spreading lava-bliss through me before all of the tension drained from my limbs.

Harlan broke our kiss and began to press his lips to my neck as he slowly moved his hand from between my legs.

"I missed you," I panted as I recovered.

"Good," he rasped.

I couldn't help but smile. I loved that he wanted me to miss him. I loved that he'd spent the evening on the bench. And I loved that he'd texted me to meet him under the dock so he could make me come so hard I saw stars.

I might even love Harlan Mitchell. If that was the case, it was a much bigger problem than I was ready to admit.