Page 111 of Country Contract

“Harrison,” I whimper and watch him reach his climax. I can see the fireworks going off in his eyes as he spills into me. He seats me completely, his dick twitching and jets of cum filling me.

I physically feel the slickness between us as his semen slides down my legs and onto his pelvis.

I emotionally feel the adoration between us as our eyes finally close, and he moves his hand to cup the back of my head and leans my forehead against his.

It’s in this quiet moment I realize that we didn’t fuck.

Harrison just made love to me . . . and I liked it. A lot.

Chapter 42

Harrison

Whoever said men don’t cry doesn’t know the men in our family. My father bawled his eyes out when each of his parents passed. He told us how he cried when my mom told him she was pregnant and at each of our births. He even let those tears go at the end ofCoco.

He held my brother and me if we ever needed him. He told us if we wanted to cry, we could. If we didn’t want to in front of others, we could always open up at home with him or my mom. It didn’t make us weak.

I was the crier out of the two brothers. Little League losses. Heartbreak. A good commercial. The waterworks were on.

Now, I’m in the bunkhouse half bath, holding my face in a sink full of cold water. It’s not typical for me to cry after sex. Hell, I don’t think this has ever happened. But I basically laid myself out for Harlow, heard her sniffle at my words, and then made love to her for the first time.

Every time we touch each other it’s explosive. Being rough and sweet at the same time was an emotional experience.I have thought that our sex would be in my replay real based on how amazing it was before, but that will both be a fantasy and a nightmare.

Remembering her black eyes meeting my blue ones as I thrusted into her will haunt me. Silas was right. On my deathbed, I will think of those eyes as I slip away into a darkness to match them.

She’s upstairs rinsing off, and I’m supposed to be grabbing my things from the truck now that it’s dark. I didn’t want anyone to see me bring more than the bag my mom made for us into the house.

I made a quick turn into the half bath, and the tears just fell. Letting Harlow go is going to be harder than anything I’ve ever done. Everyone was right, I can’t do casual. I might have fallen quickly for each of my girlfriends with the hopes they would fit my idyllic dreams for the future. I was hoping they would fit a mold.

Harlow is different from all of that. I don’t want her to fit into anything other than herself. I want her in my life just as she is. She came into my life like a fucking wrecking ball, destroying everything I thought I wanted in a woman. My idea of having a cookie-cutter homemaker was so misogynistic.

Her strength, individuality, creativity, dark nature . . . it all drives me wild. I think all the things she feels self-conscious about are perfect.

As much as I want her, I can’t have her. She has a whole life waiting back in California, with a fiancé at that.

So here I am, in the powder room, cooling my face off to reduce the swelling from my hysterics.

Did I fall for her because I was sleeping with her?

Absolutely fucking not.

I can’t even stomach the idea of dating a woman other than her.

I can feel myself getting worked up again, so I think of something else.

The house.

I will my brain to think about how to develop my future home, but in the back of it, I want to paint the walls black.

Our food is eaten, we’re both clean and back in bed. Harlow is scribbling in her notebook and I’m sketching.Labyrinthis playing in the background, and I listen to Harlow whisper-sing each song.

When she finishes writing something, her hand drops and lands on my thigh. Each time she touches me, I feel lighter and warmer. It’s strange how, at the same time, it absolutely breaks me.

The companionship in moments like this is what I’ll be looking for, for the rest of my life.

I can’t imagine feeling more desperate than I do right now, and if this is how I feel when I’m with Harlow . . . it would be impossible to miss the right person when she comes along.

When we both decide to put our stuff aside, we scoot closer and watch the remainder of the movie. I sling my arm over her shoulder, and she leans deep into me. I kiss the top of her head a few times and each time, she wiggles in response.

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