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“I love being here, and you’re such a good narrator. I almost fell asleep listening to your voice.”
“Would you like me to read one of your books to you at night?”
I laughed as we reached the bottom of the stairs. “I might like that a little bit too much.”
Harrison growled under his breath and tugged me to him. “You being here is dangerous. It’s opening all these possibilities in my head.”
“What do you mean?” I asked when I could get a word out.
“Tucking Wren in, spending Sundays together, sleeping in my bed, getting naked in my shower.”
“Naked in your shower?That’s awfully specific.” And something someone might say to a person they’re dating.
Harrison touched my shoulder, leading me in the direction of the slider. “You want to take a glass of wine outside?”
“Yes.” Now, this was something we did when I stayed over. We’d watch a movie with Wren, maybe play some games, and then he’d tuck her in while I gathered some appetizers and wine to sit outside.
“I’ll uncork the wine.”
“I’ll grab the blankets.” Outside, I turned on the fire again, moving the chairs around the pit.
When Harrison came outside carrying two wineglasses and a bottle of wine, I pointed at the lights. “These were a great addition.”
It gave the patio a cozy feel. I wanted to hang out here all night, looking at the stars, not wanting the night to end. My heart was already picking up at the thought of sleeping in Harrison’s bed again.
My body heated at the idea of one of us making a move. Would he be too sleepy to resist, or would reason stop him from doing more?
He sat next to me, pouring us each a glass of wine. Setting the bottle to the side, he handed me the glass. “Let’s toast.”
“To new beginnings?” I asked, keeping my tone light.
Harrison smirked. “To showing you that fairy tales really do exist.”
I paused my glass in mid-air.
“Are you really not going to clink to that?” Harrison asked softly.
His voice was getting to me, ever since he read to me and Wren. I wanted him to read a sexy scene to me while I circled my clit with my fingers, dipping inside.
“What are you thinking about?”
I laughed, shaking it off. “Nothing you want to hear.”
His eyes darkened as if he’d guessed. “I definitely want to hear about it.”
“I was just thinking about how sexy your voice is, and what I’d love to do while you read me a steamy scene.” Harrison read over my shoulder a few years ago and was shocked to read the explicit scene in one of my romance books. I explained how the scenes added to the character’s development and emotional arc, but he was stuck on whether I masturbated to the scene when I was home alone in bed.
His hand that held the glass dropped as he shifted forward, his elbows on his knees. “You’re killing me.”
“We’ve been friends for years. Why does thinking about me masturbating suddenly cause a problem?”
He squeezed his eyes shut at my last word. “Fuck. I hadn’t let myself think of the possibilities before.”
“Would this be the case for any woman who slept in your house?”
“Fuck no.”
“Then why now?”
