“That was . . .” He trails off, eyes lingering on mine. His voice is low, yet it carries the weight of something deeper than mere satisfaction with the phenomenal banging we just shared.
“Amazing,” I finish for him, grinning.
My heart still hasn’t settled from the rushof the evening. The impact of what happened tonight still coursing through me with a charged energy. The sex. The shower. Harry lying on his bed next to me while water drips from his forehead. I thought I knew what intimacy was, but this? This feels entirely new.
He laughs softly, his chest rumbling, drawing my attention. Besides the few hairs surrounding his nipples, he’s as smooth as a freshly waxed sports car. My tongue skates across my lips, watching him. He’s so fucking lickable.
“Yeah. Definitely amazing,” he says.
I roll onto my stomach to get more comfortable, but mostly to be closer to him. He brushes a hand over my head, his fingers landing on my ear, rubbing and squeezing. The way Harry took control—it was nothing like my brief relationship in college. Doug was . . . well, he was insecure, hesitant. We never really seemed on the same wavelength. Sure, I was hanging out with my hockey teammates, and Doug was usually with the theatre crowd, but it was more than that. We never seemed to truly connect. Even when we were alone.
But Harry? There’s something about the way he looks at me. The way he moves. He just knows what I want without me having to ask for it. He doesn’t question. He just does. And fuck, it feels so damn good.
“You know, this”—I move my hands between us—“is way different than with my ex.” The words slip out before I can even think about it, and I swallow hard, wishing I could gobble them back up.
Harry cocks an eyebrow and moves the hand behind his head so he’s opening himself, an invitation. I lay myhead on his chest, and fuck, lying on him this way feels like heaven.
“Different, how?”
I don’t want Harry to think I’m rushing things. Or comparing him to someone else. And honestly, there’s no comparison. The hotel room. What we just did. It’s monumentally different.
“It just feels more . . . real, I guess. Is that weird?”
“No.”
His fingers play with the hair at the top of my head. It’s not much, but it’s longer than the buzzed sides and back, and for the first time in ages, I find myself contemplating whether I should let it grow longer.
“With Doug, I always felt like I was tiptoeing around him. In bed, we were like two baby lambs fumbling to find our footing. Kinda like you on the ice.”
He punches my arm softly. “Hey, I wasn’t that bad.”
“Harry.” I grab his hand from my head, kissing across his knuckles. “You were perfect.”
He smiles, and his radiant expression makes my heart sing.
“With you . . .” I continue. “You justknow. You know exactly what you want and tell me what to do, and honestly, I never realized how much I would love that.”
Harry exhales, a hint of a laugh in his chest. “Well, I’m glad it’s working for you.”
He resumes massaging my scalp.
“It is,” I blurt. “But it’s not only that. It’s the way you . . . take control. It makes me feel safe, like I can just let go and enjoy myself because I’m in excellent hands. I’ve never felt that way before.”
His fingers pause, and I think he might say something, but he’s quiet. This shift in his mood doesn’t go unnoticed, and my chest twists. Something’s off.
“Hey,” I nudge his side, trying to catch his attention again. “I want to know something. After the semi-finals . . . back at school, you were distant. Like, you pushed me away. I was excited to keep things going, but . . . I don’t know . . . Did I do something wrong?”
He shifts slightly, and I glance up to see him staring at the ceiling. Anticipation curls around me.
“I was scared,” he whispers. “I had fun in Rhode Island. Clearly. But I guess the idea of getting too close scares me. I’ve . . . I’ve been burned by someone like you before.”
“Burned?” I echo, trying to piece together what he means.
“My high school boyfriend. Peter.” Harry pauses. He takes a deep inhale, his breath hitching. “We weren’t exactly out. Not fully, anyway. My family knew, and I was trying to be more out at school. Peter wasn’t having it. We fought about it. All I wanted was to make him happy. Then . . . something happened.” He stares at the ceiling, blinking. “Someone on his track team found out and confronted Peter. He denied it. The whole thing blew up in my face. He wouldn’t talk to me. I mean, he wouldn’t even look at me.” Harry’s eyes meet mine, and my body vibrates with sadness for high school Harry. “The game. It brought up all these insecurities I have. I think I was scared of . . . of what could happen if it all went wrong again.”
His words sink into me, and a strange pain burns inmy chest. My heart aches for him, for the past that still haunts him. For younger Harry. I sit up, face him, and hold his arm. My fingers brush his soft skin, and my thumb rubs tiny circles on the underside of his forearm.
“I didn’t want that to happen with you,” Harry continues, his eyes finally meeting mine again. “I didn’t want to mess this up.”
