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Keeping it strictly platonic in my head, I close the space between us and gently place my hands over hers on the golf club. Her fingers refuse to let go at first, and it takes some coaxing to pry them open.
“Like this,” I murmur, adjusting her fingers to position them correctly. “You want to relax them but also get a good grip. Holding it well becomes muscle memory so then you can work on your swing.”
Speaking of muscle memory, my body isn’t wasting any time reminding my brain of what being close to Harper feels like.
The euphoria of having her bare skin pressed up against mine and the intoxicating allure that her scent has on my mind; stripping me of logic and leaving only desire, need, and an insatiable thirst for her warmth.
“Keep your head together,” I hiss.
“What?” Harper asks loudly.
“What?”
“You said something about keeping my head together?” She turns her head to the side to look at me. “Is that required, too? I need to cover as many lessons as I can.”
And I want to kiss you so badly I can feel my rational thoughts slipping away. But who is to say that these aren’t part of logical thinking? I mean…it’s only natural that when you’ve been with a woman like Harper, you tend to develop a larger appetite.
And you hope she feels the same, so we can whet our appetites together.
“Are you going to teach me or not?”
Her words are sharp enough that they present as a mental slap to my face, restoring my focus. “I am teaching you,” I try to appear undisturbed.
“Okay. What’s next?”
Not touching you.
Stepping away from Harper, I pick up my golf club. “Now that I’ve shown you how to hold the club, we need to work on your stance. Your feet should be shoulder-width apart, and I need you to bend your knees slightly.”
Harper does it well enough for a beginner, but I find myself moving in again. Her back touches my chest lightly, and she arches her back some more, pressing her backside against my crotch. I swallow hard.
“Then you take a swing.”
The club doesn’t move.
“You need to swing, Harper,” I whisper into her ear, hoping to spur her into taking action.
Instead, she whirls around, and then I see how flushed her cheeks are.
I’m immediately concerned. “Are you ok? Do you need to sit for a minute? Sometimes you have to take things slow,” I add when she doesn’t respond. “Rome wasn’t built in a day, is what they say.”
“It’s… it…” She stutters for several seconds before throwing her hands in the air. “It’s not the heat! The sun isn’t even shining, so why would I have heatstroke?”
What did I do wrong now? “Your face,” I point. “Your cheeks are flushed. There is only one reason your cheeks would be this red when playing golf.”
Harper groans and runs her fingers through her hair. “Is there? Is there only one reason for my cheeks to be red? You can’t think of anything else? And if you want a hint—it’s all your fault.”
One, two…my eyes widen slightly, and then a devious grin appears on my face. Where I thought I was the only one flustered, Harper had difficulty concentrating too. Oh, how I like this.
“You were thinking about something else while playing golf?” I cross my arms and tease. “That is not very Harper Quinn of you, you know. But I’ll bite. What were you thinking about?”
Harper is now looking downward, so I pull her close by the waist. I gently touch her chin with my index finger, tilting her face upward.
“How do I get anything out of you if you won’t look at me?”
“I don’t want to,” she mumbles.
“Why? Are you embarrassed? Because I know you were having sexy thoughts while I was touching you. That you probably fantasized about me touching you, in different places.”
