She doesn’t flinch, and I know I need to distract us to another topic.
“Look at you skating,” I inform her.
She was so lost staring at me and in our conversation that she didn’t realize she’s no longer stepping on the ice. I might be pulling her along, but she’s skating in a way.
Harlow looks at the ice and then around, as if this isn’t happening. “Oh, so this is how it goes? I’ve been skating.”
“Ready to let go? You’re no longer taking steps,” I say, and if only she knew the underlying meaning.
But her face relaxes, and she’s on the same wavelength as me.
“I’m ready,” she softly announces.
I let go.
…and she falls instantly onto her ass.
Turns out she still needs me to help her along.
* * *
We walkinto my room after a day of ice skating and a dinner which was takeout from Catch 22. We’re tired, so our plan is to just relax in bed and maybe put something on TV.
But as soon as we’re in the middle of the room, Harlow twirls to face me.
“Kiss me,” she demands.
It’s my favorite nighttime routine that we’ve developed. No reason to argue, I do exactly as she requests. I cup her face and pull her into a slow, hard kiss that seems to absorb whatever thought or nerves are running through her.
When she pulls away, her eyes gleam with intent and a plea. “The thing is, I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to think. I just know that for once I feel safe, and this desire is so over my head that I can’t ignore it. It twists inside of me until I might burst. Do you understand?”
My eyes narrow in on her as I digest what I believe she’s thinking. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t want to sleep, Stone. Nor can we tiptoe around what I know you’ve been patiently waiting for, and so have I, if I’m being honest.”
Now I wonder if it’s me who is getting the sympathy.
Harlow grabs my hands confidently, setting them on her obliques, ensuring that our eyes hold before she inches my palms lower to her waist. “Something more and now,” she rasps, her eyes vulnerable.
For some reason, I’m going to follow her cues, but also not. It makes no sense. I just know somehow one of us will lead the way.
I could scream finally, but I know this is a profound moment for her.
And truthfully, for us too.
10
HARLOW
Ishiver because this feels like a leap off a cliff. But exhilarating, a giant swoosh of anticipation enrapturing me.
Stone reaches out and grazes his fingertips down my arms. Slowly and barely a touch but enough to cause my nipples to tingle.
He’s about to check in if I’m sure, I can read his face, but I cut him off before he has the chance. “Yes,” I say, adamant. The last few weeks I’ve been treading carefully further along a trail, taking tiny steps. And for the first time, I don’t take two steps back.
Which is why in this very moment, I make the move forward.
His fingertips trail to my waist before he plants his hands firmly on the sides of my hips. We don’t blink because our eyes are in a strong embrace. Maybe there is a hint that he’s still studying if I’m okay. I am. I really am.
