37. Daphne

37

DAPHNE

"Crap," I murmured beneath my breath as I hit my head on the cabinet under the sink. I was sure that was where Aunt Rhonda had said the flashlight was, but I certainly didn't feel it. "Forget it."

It was the middle of the night. My computer was dead because I'd been using it all day, so it had been running on the charger, but my phone had a battery and a flashlight. I turned it on and decided I would just go to bed, and hopefully by morning power would be restored.

I was making my way to the front of the house when I saw a figure walking up the steps of the porch. Normally, being a woman alone in a farmhouse on a dark, rainy night when the power was out and seeing a tall, dark figure coming up the steps would be cause for alarm, but in this case, it was cause for arousal because I would know the outline of that body anywhere. It was Harlan Mitchell.

A thrill ran through me as I opened the door just as he was raising his hand to knock. Seeing Harlan standing on the porch, dripping wet, was like coming downstairs on Christmas morning and finding the present you've wanted all year wrapped under the tree with a bow and your name on it. Not that I would know what that felt like. My parents were never big on holidays. But this is what I thought it would feel like.

"Hi," I smiled at him.

"Hey, I was just coming to see if you were okay."

"Yeah, I'm good." I motioned as I stepped to the side.

He walked past me, and I shut the door behind him. When he turned around, he was standing very close to me. And he was dripping wet.

"Here, hold on, let me get you a towel." I hurried to the linen closet, and when I returned, he'd removed his damp hoodie, leaving him bare-chested and wearing only sweats. The sight sent my hormones into overdrive. I tried not to show my reaction as I handed him the towel. "Here you go."

"Thanks." He took it from me and dried off his face and hair. "I didn't realize it was raining this bad, or I would have driven over. I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he reiterated.

It was taking all of my self-control not to throw myself at Harlan. I'd missed him so much. I missed the softness of his lips, and the way the rest of the world disappeared when he kissed me. I missed the strength in his arms when he held me. And, I'd made up my mind, there truly was nothing sexier than Harlan Mitchell in gray sweatpants and nothing else.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I was just, um, watching our date, actually."

"You were?" He laid the towel over the stair railing.

"Yeah, I was watching a rough cut of it when the power went out. I've been on my computer all day, though, so it's dead. Otherwise, I would, you know, show you. I mean, if you wanted to see it." I felt nervous. I didn't know if it was because tonight reminded me of the first night we'd been together. Or if it was because I felt strange about how I'd left things when he'd dropped me off. Or if it was because the footage of our date had solidified the fact that I loved the man standing half-naked in the front room.

"How does it look?"

"Good." I worked to keep my expression neutral.

The energy between us was crackling with tension. Or at least that's how it felt on my end of things. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do or say as we stood, silently staring at one another.

Breaking eye contact with him, I walked past him toward the dining room table. "So were you already awake when the lights we?—"

"I want to kiss you," he interjected as he reached out and grabbed my wrist.

My heart slammed into my chest as my gaze lifted to his.

"Actually, I want to do a lot more than just kiss you," he confessed.

My eyes fluttered shut as I inhaled a shallow breath. As much as I wanted to give in to the temptation that Harlan was presenting, there was something stopping me. I knew that it would only lead to heartache. This wasn't realistic. We weren't realistic.

"I'm… leaving. This won't change anything. We can't…"

I felt him take a step toward me. I opened my eyes and found myself staring at his chiseled chest. He lifted his hand and cupped my cheek, tilting my head up so my gaze met his.

"I don't care. I'll take whatever I can get. I want to be with you. If this is the last night we have together, I don't want to waste it."

He was saying that now, because we were alone, the lights were out, and it was raining outside. But what about in the morning? Would he feel the same? I knew he cared about me. He had feelings for me. He'd shown me that he did even if he hadn't said the words.

And it wasn't just his emotional well-being I was worried about. It had been hell not acting on the feelings that I had for Harlan these past weeks, but I'd stayed strong because I knew that he could hurt me, and I needed to protect myself. Did I do all that for nothing, to just throw it all away because I got swept up in the romance of a storm?

"I know that there is something between us, and I know that you feel it, too. I know you want this just as much as I do," he challenged.

My head was frantically scribbling a pros and cons list, jotting down every reason this was a good and bad idea. But the moment Harlan ran the roughened pad of his thumb across my bottom lip, he erased my mind completely. It was blank. I wasn't thinking anything. All I could do was feel.

"Fuck it," I breathed out before lifting up on my toes and pressing my lips to his.

The moment our mouths touched; it fanned the flames of desire burning me from the inside out. No, not desire, desperation. Being with Harlan was different than anyone I'd ever had sex with. It consumed me. I didn't think about the cellulite on the back of my thighs, or if there was a roll in my stomach, or the fact that my right breast hung slightly lower than my left.

My mind didn't spiral, wondering about what he was thinking or if I was turning him on. The moment he touched me, or even just looked into my eyes, all of the voices of doubt in my head quieted. I wasn't worried about pleasing him or if he thought I was sexy. I just felt. That was it. All feeling. It was a connection that I didn't take for granted since I'd never experienced it before. Not in the four long-term relationships, and not in the handful of situationships I'd had. He was the only man who had ever made me feel totally myself, totally seen, and totally desired.

And this was temporary. It was ending.

Tears pricked my eyes as he pulled my shirt up and off my head. When the material dropped to the floor, he cupped my face in his hands and tilted my head up.

Instead of lowering down and kissing me again, he must have seen the emotion in my eyes because he stilled as he asked, "What's wrong?"

I sniffed and pasted a fake smile on my face. "Nothing."

His brow furrowed in concern. "We don't have to?—"

"No. I want to. It's not that. I'm just…I'm going to miss you."

His jaw clenched, and he inhaled through his nose. I could see the pain I was feeling mirrored in his expression, in his eyes, in his energy.

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to him. One hand ran up and down my back, and one hand cradled my head against his chest. I could feel his heart pounding against my cheek as he kissed the top of my head, just like he had the first time we were together in the barn.

This was what I'd miss the most. Not the greatest mind-blowing orgasms I'd ever had, or even the best friend I'd found in him; it was the safety, the security, the complete acceptance, and the peace I felt when he held me.

I'd never been a big hugger, but that was before I'd had a Harlan Mitchell hug. Nothing would ever compare to this. His hugs healed me. They fixed broken parts of me that I didn't even know needed fixing. I couldn't tell you how long he stood there, holding me, his hands roaming up and down my back as I buried my face against his chest and held him for dear life. I had a back-of-a-motorcycle-going-ninety-around-corners grip on this man.

After absorbing all of the security, safety, and, dare I say it, love that I could possibly handle, my emotional state began to shift, and I started becoming much more aware of my physical state. Tension began to build between my legs as Harlan's roughened fingertips brushed against my bare back, dipping a little lower and caressing my ass.

The energy between us crackled with pent-up sexual need. It had been so difficult for me to keep my hands off of Harlan these past few weeks, but somehow, we'd managed to maintain the parameters I'd put in place. But now all of that repressed desire was bubbling over, like the time I accidentally put dish soap in the washing machine when I was five and needed clean clothes for school. There were suds everywhere, and they just kept multiplying, much like the desire between us now.

I knew I wasn't the only one who felt it. The hard evidence that I wasn't alone in my yearning was pressing firmly against my stomach.

"Harlan," I whispered needily as I lifted my head up to him.

My plea did not go unanswered. He picked me up and carried me to the couch, then lowered me down and tugged my sweats and underwear off. He began by kissing my ankles, then calves, alternating his attention from left to right. I watched as he worked his way up my legs. The farther up he got, the more tingles spread through my core. His lips and tongue flirted with my inner thighs. He was teasing me more than actually kissing me, which only enhanced my eager anticipation.

When he finally reached my sex, I was so close to coming that when I felt his breath fan my feminine lips, my body spasmed with the beginnings of release. My reaction wasn't because of the past thirty minutes; it was the past month that had felt like a long session of foreplay.

I worried the second he touched me, I was going to explode. He ran his fingers up and down my folds. They slid easily as he spread my arousal with each pass. Tingles whirled in my core as he spread me apart. Using just the tip of his tongue, he flicked it lightly across my swollen clit with barely-there, featherlight pressure. Teasing me to the point of madness.

In desperation, I arched my back, trying to press my body into his mouth, seeking the fulfillment my body ached for. His left hand gripped my hip, holding me in place. His tongue kept me balancing on the edge of release, dancing on the precipice of orgasm, torturing me with every lick.

Each flick sent me closer to oblivion until, finally, he flattened his tongue and rolled it against my pleasure button, and a burst of ecstasy exploded in my core. Tingling bliss spread through my limbs as I reached my threshold of passion.

I closed my eyes and tried to memorize everything about this moment. The sound of the rain against the window. The smell of Harlan's musk. The feel of his face kissing me between my thighs as his fingers dug into my hip. I knew that this was a moment I'd want to remember not just tomorrow or the next day, or even next week or next month, but forever. I wanted to remember this feeling, this moment and this night forever.