by Olivia Luck
“Thank you for an afternoon of pampering. It was unexpected and surprisingly fun.”
“Then I’ll make it happen again.”
Our conversation has distracted me, and I had hardly pay any attention to where we’re headed when Patrick rolls the car to a smooth stop. The tinted windows make it difficult to figure out our location, but soon enough Harris escorts me out of the car and into the night air.
“What are we doing at the Jefferson Memorial?” I say, gesturing to the iconic national monument.
“Follow me,” Harris says mysteriously. We trek across a walking path; he’s a step or two in front of me, but still clutching my hand. The setting reminds me of a memory from college.
“Greg told Sarah he loved her for the first time here,” I blurt out. Instantly I wish I hadn’t made the comment. I’m heaping additional pressure on myself.
“Is that right?”
Even though we’re walking toward what I consider to be one of the most majestic monuments in a city full of them, I can’t take my eyes off Harris. Because he’s in front of me, I’m unable to study his facial expression, but his shoulder are tense beneath his jacket. In fact, he doesn’t appear to be paying any attention to me, his head moving back and forth slightly as he scans the monument.
“What’s going on over there?” he asks suddenly, adjusting his body, so we’re now standing side by side.
“Where?” When I see what he’s referring to, my breath comes in quick and my hand flies to my mouth to cover a squeal.
“That’s Sarah and Greg!” I exclaim at the sight before us. Greg’s dropped down on one knee on the steps of the illuminated memorial and in his hand looks like a small red box. Sarah wipes at her face, brushing away tears while her head bobs up and down.
“Yes, yes, yes!” I hear her cry. Greg’s on his feet in less than a second, dipping down to cover her mouth in a passionate kiss.
“Harris!” I gasp, throwing my arms around his neck. “You brought me home for Sarah’s engagement?”
He catches me laughing, twirling me around in a circle. In my ear, he imitates Sarah’s words, “Yes, yes, yes.”
I wiggle down to my feet, but slide my hand around his upper arm, holding him close. “You planned this with Greg?”
“Again, yes, yes, yes. Shall we go congratulate the happy couple?”
“We can?” I ask dumbly.
He throws back his head in laughter. “You’re adorable when you’re excited,” he tells me as we move toward my friends. The staircase leading up to the monument seem unusually deserted for a beautiful summer evening.
“Where is everyone? This place is always packed.”
“Greg called in every favor he had,” Harris tells me.
At the end of their embrace, Greg carefully turns Sarah by her shoulders, so she can spot us.
“Eddie!” she yelps, letting go of Greg and skittering across the stairs in her four-inch heels.
Releasing my grip on Harris’ suit-clad arm, I race to meet her halfway. We reach each other on the platform between two sets of stairs, and our arms fly around each other’s backs in a tight hug.
“What are you doing?” she whimpers against my cheek where she presses her damp face.
“Watching you get engaged! What are you doing?”
“Wondering how in the world you got here.”
“Me too,” I say, releasing her from the embrace and taking a step back to study her. “You’re getting married! To Greg!”
“I’m getting married to Greg!” she repeats happily while a beam sends her eyes shimmering. Then we’re hugging again, laughing giddily.
“This is what they’re like together.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Greg talking to Harris with an affectionate smile pointed in our direction.
Sarah and I ignore them. I grab her left hand in mine, studying the exquisite platinum band and sparkling stone. “Elegant,” I tell her. “Just like the woman who wears it.”
The sun has long set, but Sarah’s smile practically lights the entire pavilion. “No, seriously, what are you doing here?” she asks.
I loop my arm through hers and drag her toward our men. “Harris brought me here. I can only guess that Greg invited us?”
Greg’s expression shows just how pleased he is with this scenario. “Harris and I planned this surprise together.”
Sarah hurls herself at her fiancé again, dropping her cheek to his shoulder. “I love you,” she sighs.
“I love you back,” he says softly.
Harris’ eyes find mine and then he’s next to me, fingertips resting on my wrist. He’s my steady companion, never too far away and always willing to show his affection.
“Harris. Grant,” Sarah says sternly.
“At your service,” my boyfriend replies.
“Pretty momentous gesture, flying your girlfriend across the country for her best friend’s engagement.”
“Every day I’m trying to convince her that I’m worth her time. An overnight trip to Washington, D.C. for Edith to celebrate with you is hardly a burden.”
My cheeks heat and I fight the urge to hide my face in his chest. Sarah will eat this up, especially because his tone runs deep with sincerity.
“Good point.” Sarah nods her approval.
“This engagement isn’t over yet,” Greg pipes in.
“It’s not?”
“Our car’s waiting to take us to the next portion of this evening,” Harris informs Sarah and me. We spilt into pairs while we walk to the car. Even though Harris is the newest addition to our tiny group of friends, I almost forget what it was like when he wasn’t here. It’s like we were a puzzle missing one piece. As soon as I found him, he fit perfectly and completed the picture of this friendship.
Somehow, the elevator ride proceeding the engagement party back to the penthouse of the North West Park Hotel remains chaste. The stroll down the hall toward the room practically platonic. But once the door clicks shut, restraint falls away.
We’re barely two steps inside when Harris halts my progress forward by placing his hands on my shoulders. His fingertips walk across my shoulder and the top of my back until he reaches the clasp of my dress. With the flick of his fingers, he releases the latch. He drops his hands to the hem of the skirt, dragging it upward, the deliciously light fabric igniting all of the nerves of my skin. Once again, I lift my arms to help with the task, but this time it’s Harris removing my dress than it being placed on. With a gentle tug, I’m reduced to my scant undergarments. I hardly notice where he places the dress; I’m hungrily assessing him.
On my bare waist, his hands feel like they set my skin on fire. I slide my own hands inside his jacket to his broad shoulders. I push the tailored garment off, it pools around his feet, so I move to pick it up. His fingers dig into me slightly, silently instructing me to leave his clothing where it lays.
Still without words, he continues his sensual assault. His hands leave my hips and move to my hair. One by one he plucks the pins from my scalp. Once my hair has fallen, he carefully arranges the tresses around my shoulders.
Finally he speaks.
“This hair is meant to be spilled across my pillow,” he murmurs huskily.
“Yes,” I throatily agree.
Hastily, I begin to release his shirt buttons, eager to feel his skin on mine.
“Slowly, baby,” he instructs. “I don’t want to rush.”
Crouching slightly, he palms my ass, urging me into his arms. My legs find their way around his waist, losing shoes in the process. Then he’s carrying me, shirt halfway open, into the bedroom.
He sets me on the edge of the bed, but stays so close that the leg of his pants brushes against my knees. Then he finishes the job himself, letting his shirt fall to the floor.
I lift my hands to his belt buckle and unfasten the leather, pulling it from his waist and tossing it next to his forgotten shirt. When I raise my hands back to completely undress him, I find that’s he’s already halfway done. He pus
hes the remaining clothing and shoes, standing before me completely bare.
Unconsciously, I drag my tongue across my dry lips.
“Like what you see?”
“You know I do.” I’m just as confident.
His grin quickly falls away when I drag my nails along his outer thighs, drawing dangerously close to his throbbing sex.
“Tonight is all about you, baby,” he says, taking my hands and returning them to my sides.
“But—”
“You,” he demands as he places his hands on my sides and guides me backward toward the middle of the bed. I ease my bodyweight back on my forearms. One of his legs parts mine, resting between them. From this position, his stark erection presses into my thigh and I nearly moan with desperation.
He nuzzles my throat, lips ghosting across my exposed neck. I drop my head backward, allowing him greater access to my taut skin. His fingers flirt with my inner thigh, then skim up my side. Lazily, his pointer finger drifts in circles around my navel. My back arches, body begging for more. He heeds my silent pleas, brushing his hand along my back until he reaches the clasp of my bra. With one hand, he deftly unhooks the strapless garment and moves it out of the way.
Harris shifts his body, so he’s on top of me, balancing his weight on his forearms. I lay back flat completely, though my hands reach up to stroke his broad chest.
The temperature of the moment is discernibly different from other times that we’ve been together. Everything, down to the sweep of skin on skin, and our eye contact now is more intimate than ever before. The weight of barriers between us, secrets, silent confessions, disintegrate.
He captures a nipple in his lips, gently tugging at the hard nub with his teeth. I can’t contain my groan of pleasure. My hands fly up to the short hairs on his scalp to urge him closer. His free hand reaches up to play with my other exposed nipple, twisting and teasing it between his fingers.
A heated sigh escapes my lips. “Harris.”
Our eyes connect. Emotion radiates in his gaze. I can see his lust, but also a tenderness.
“Kiss me,” I plead.
Instantly, he devours my lips, his tongue expertly exploring my mouth. My hands twine around his back, then pull as close as our bodies can get. He pulls back slightly, removing his tongue from my lips. But he doesn’t end our kiss, just continues with intense closed-lip kisses. I can feel him smiling against my mouth as he presses kiss after kiss to my lips.
“What’s that smile about?” I ask, tilting my head to stop the contact.
He angles his face, so it matches mine and droops his head down, so our lips brush against each other when he speaks. “I’m just so happy,” he whispers the words I used with him once before.
“Me too,” I breathe back.
I release my clutch on his back when he drifts downward, kissing and caressing my body into a feverish jumble of tingling arousal. At my hips, he hooks his thumbs into the waist of my panties, dragging them down my legs at a tortuous pace.
Harris’ fingers circle my ankles, then he pushes my legs, so that they’re bent at the knee, my feet flat on the mattress. With his shoulders, he spreads my legs wide enough apart that he can fit between them.
“Give me what I want, baby,” he says. Instinctively I know he means to drape my legs over his shoulders, and he lowers himself into the apex of my thighs. Gently he nibbles at the sensitive skin, causing me to squirm in excitement.
Like a whisper, his tongue flickers across my tender skin and I hiss my pleasure. My hands fist the sheets as I writhe underneath his touch. Harris worships my body with an unspoken reverence.
The teasing strokes send me drifting closer and closer to the edge of pleasure. He flicks his tongue back and forth, toying with me until he hits just the right spot and I’m soaring through the air, consumed by pleasure.
I don’t realize he’s leaning over me, watching me intently until I fight to control my panting breaths and steady my stuttering heart many moments later.
“You take my breath away.” His intense eyes shine with desire.
His hot hands find my hips, repositioning me closer. He then braces his hands on either side of my head, our eyes meeting in another intensely intimate moment. With unhurried movements, he glides himself inside me. I lift my legs to wrap them around his lower back, encouraging him to thrust harder, deeper, faster. At first, his movements remain slow and controlled. And I’m whimpering, begging for more.
“Harris,” I groan as my sex clenches the length of his arousal, gaining momentum toward another orgasm.
Steel-gray eyes melt into silver as he loses himself in the moment, just as I had. He pumps relentlessly, groaning my name as the walls of my core contract again.
He reaches down to collect my body, pressing my breasts into this chest. My arms find their way around his back and I cling to him like he’s the only real thing in this world. The room shrinks, the pleasure, the sacredness of this coupling overwhelming my senses.
Controlled Harris from earlier has left. The man clutching my body to his is feverish with passion.
Then I’m crying out his name again, unable to contain the climax.
“Edith.” He exhales my name heavily. Then he squeezes me together as he reaches his own orgasm. It’s powerful, ripping through him so vibrantly that it’s almost as if I’m experiencing his pleasure, too. I’m left gasping for breath, staring deeply into the depths of his gray eyes when he lies me flat on the mattress.
Our silent exchange is pregnant with emotion, an unspoken vow.
When he’s calmed, Harris rains random kisses along my hairline, my cheek, neck. Gently, he extracts himself, wiggling down to my waist until he can rest his cheek to my stomach.
We relax in silence, both panting with exertion.
Tell him.
I can feel my pulse slowing, my body melting into the comforter beneath us. My eyes start to flicker shut, my earlier resolve to confess my feelings for Harris nearly forgotten when he props his chin on my stomach and meets my gaze.
Tell him.
“Hi.” I smile softly as I look down at him.
“Hi.” He drops a kiss to the spot right above my navel.
“Harris.” Where did that knot in my throat come from? My voice sounds thick, garbled. The short hairs on his scalp prickle my fingers when I run my hands through them tenderly. “Why did you go to all this trouble for one night?”
His brow furrows. “I thought the signals were sufficiently uncrossed by now.”
“They are. This whole trip, all the planning that went into it, it’s the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me and, I guess, I want to know why you called Greg and my dad and—”
“Edith, don’t you know?”
He lifts his body up, moving so he completely covers me like a human blanket. Harris’ hands cradle my cheeks and he meets my eyes with a penetrating, soul searching gaze. “I love you,” he murmurs huskily, “and I would do whatever it takes to put a smile on your face, ease pain in your heart, make you mine forever.”
My lips part in surprise. The words literally take my breath away as I stare at him in shock. It’s not that I thought he’d be unwilling to make this type of confession, but I did imagine I would be the first to reveal the depth of my emotions because of his past skittishness.
“I love you so much that I’m willing to wait however long it takes for you to feel the same way. Edith, my darling Edith…”
“I am yours and you are mine,” I confirm, “because I love you too. I’m endlessly, inexplicably, wildly, mind-numbingly in love with you, Harris Grant. “
His lips curl upward, mine follow, and then we’re smiling shyly at each other. I don’t think I could stamp mine down for anything.
“Why did we wait so long to say this?” I wonder aloud.
“There were some obstacles to overcome first,” he reminds me, serious again.
“There were,” I agree, “but we’ve overcome them. Together.”
“
We’re one,” he whispers against my skin.
The next morning a jangling cell phone wakes Harris and me from where we cuddle close in the bed. He spoons me from behind, his left leg pushed between mine.
“I purposely didn’t set an alarm. Let it go,” he says sleepily against my ear.
“It’s probably Sarah.”
He sighs, and then flicks his tongue against the shell of my ear. In retaliation, I wiggle my ass against his morning arousal.
“Don’t start something you can’t stop.”
Giggling, I push my way out of his arms and cross the bedroom to retrieve my purse from the living room floor where I must have dropped it last night. Sure enough, it’s Sarah who called thirty seconds ago and who lights up the phone in my hand at this very moment.
“Good morning, bride,” I answer.
“I don’t want to waste any time talking on the phone when we could be talking in person. Light Lounge in thirty?”
“My, my, the newly engaged lady is feeling very Type A this morning.”
“Thirty minutes, Eddie! There’s too much on our agenda to linger.”
Laughing, I agree to meet her and hurry back through the bedroom and into the bathroom. I reach inside and turn on the shower.
“What’s the rush?” Harris asks from where he stands filling up the bathroom door with his massive body. He props a shoulder on the doorframe watching me scurry around.
“Sarah wants to meet in thirty minutes and I wasn’t sure what time we’re leaving. I don’t want to waste too much time.”
“Flight’s at one. I’ll have Patrick pick you up. Where are you meeting Sarah?”
“A coffee shop not too far from here. I can just take a cab, Harris. Don’t bother Patrick.” I slip into the shower and begin the hurried tasks of washing my hair and body.
Harris lets out a very ungentlemanly snort. “Right. You’ll take a cab. Where are you going?”
From behind the glass door of the shower I make a face at him. “You’re being overbearing.”
“You’re forgetting about my control issues.” All it takes is a raised eyebrow and a slightly self-deprecating grin from him and I relent.
