A Brush with Love(39)

“Friends?” he added smoothly. Harper bobbed her head nervously, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Harper?” he said after a moment.

“Hmmm?” she hummed, her eyes dancing around him. He took a step toward her.

“I’m going to be the best friend you’ve ever had.” He gently pinched her chin and brought her eyes to meet his. They were filled with hunger and conflict.

“Thu might have something to say about that,” she said in a breathy whisper.

Dan let out a soft laugh. “No doubt, but I’m up for the challenge.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, both on the verge of giving in to what they craved.

But Dan wouldn’t push her.

He wanted whatever parts of Harper she was willing to give him, and he wouldn’t be greedy and demand more.

But the urge to lay his mouth on hers, even for a moment, was too strong to deny. He had to give in, just this once.

He moved in slowly and pressed his lips against her forehead in a featherlight touch. The simple press of her soft skin against his lips sighed through his body. It soothed the ache in his chest. Calmed the fire in his veins. He lingered, for only a second, before whispering, “Good night … friend,” then pulled away from her and reached for the door.

“Is that how you say goodbye to all your friends?” Harper called after him, her voice slightly hoarse.

He shot her a cocky grin over his shoulder but pushed the door open and kept walking. “It is now,” he said back.





CHAPTER 15





HARPER

About a week later, Harper and Dan sat on her couch while a movie played on the TV.

Because that’s what friends did.

They sat stiffly on a couch.

Pretending to watch a movie.

While making sure to keep a solid six inches of friend-zone space between their bodies.

Meanwhile, Sexual Tension had invited herself over and squeezed in between them, laying an inappropriate hand on Harper’s thigh and giving it periodic squeezes that sent butterflies much lower than her stomach. It was the sickest form of torture.

Want coursed through Harper, drying her throat and making her skin buzz. She ground her teeth together and squirmed on the couch, trying to ease the aching tension that was building through her. She looked at Dan from the corner of her eye, and wondered how the hell he looked so cool, so calm, when her body was about to implode in a lusty rampage.

She hated him for it.

A raw wildness was working its way to the surface of her skin, and she was helpless to do anything but give in to the torment, feeling like it had the power to break her bones.

While Dan sat there.

Staring blankly at the TV.

She let her head drop onto the back of the couch and worked to keep her breathing under control. As Harper walked herself through a mental cold shower (even in the coldest shower, Dan’s body was there to distract her), she saw his hand twitch. She wanted to cry out in relief. It was the first sign of life in what felt like hours. Harper held her breath.

His fingers twitched again.

Facing straight ahead, pretending to be engrossed with whatever was happening on the screen, every cell in her body pivoted its attention to the spot where his hand lay between them.

In the subtlest of movements, one that Harper couldn’t even trust to be real it was so small, his hand seemed to move closer to hers.

Her body reacted as though he’d raked his teeth over her inner thighs. Liquid heat flooded through her, pooling low in her belly, pangs of anticipation unfurling across her body. She felt fevered and overwhelmed; the drumbeat of her pulse threatened to crack open her chest.

His hand continued to slide closer, moving at a glacial pace. Harper wanted to claw at his hand. Place it on her body. She wanted to destroy any space that still sat between them.

But she couldn’t do anything but sit.

And watch.

And wait.

Every minuscule extension of his arm promising to soothe the fire licking at her skin, calm the pleasure-pain that was radiating through her.

His hand was so close, she could feel the heat of it rolling off his skin and crashing against hers, causing her nerves to riot violently for more. Her body hummed with frantic anticipation.

If he’d do it—if he’d touch her—maybe she would be okay. Maybe she wouldn’t lose her mind and crack her body from the need that held every muscle locked in place.

Her face wasn’t directed at the TV anymore. All her attention, every ounce of focus, was locked on that hand. Her heart was squeezing so tightly she worried what would happen if he withheld his touch any longer.

Slowly, so slowly she thought she might scream, she watched as Dan extended one long, beautiful finger. No movement had ever seemed so important as watching the tip of it hover right above her outstretched palm, greedy and waiting. He pressed the pad of it to her and dragged it across her palm.

Harper.

Lost.

Control.

His touch hadn’t healed her aches like she’d desperately needed it to; it had only made them worse.

She flung her body at him, any gentleness lost in the all-consuming need for more. She was drowning in it, and she needed the feel of him to keep her afloat. Her legs wrapped around him and she pressed herself into his lap, grinding every inch of her body against his. She needed pressure.