Page 64 of Most Likely to Fear Love

My eyes fluttered open as I let out a long, low moan. That’s when I realized Harle was inside me, one hand cupping my breast, toying with my nipple. The other trailing over my belly, and lower, brushing against my clit. Oh. God.

Another moan escaped my lips before I could stop it. Harle paused, his breath warm against my neck.

“Morning, darlin’.” His voice was husky with sleep and desire.

Oh god, I’d never imagined that consenting to be fucked in my sleep would lead to this. My body was on fire, consumed by sensations I’d never felt before.

Harle’s lips found my shoulder, trailing kisses along my skin as he resumed his gentle rhythm. I closed my eyes, losing myself in the feeling. It was so different from our first time. No nervousness, no pressure. Just warmth and pleasure building steadily.

With his hand wrapped around my thigh, he hooked my leg back over his, giving him much better access to my clit. My breathing quickened when he took full advantage, rubbing lightly at first, then increasing the pressure until I was gasping and arching into him.

“That’s it, darlin,” Harle encouraged, his fingers working in tandem with his thrusts. “Let go for me.”

Faster and faster. I felt the tension coiling tighter and tighter. Harle’s movements became more urgent, his breathing ragged in my ear. The dual sensations overwhelmed me, and I bit my lip as waves of pleasure crashed over me until I broke. Harle followed moments later, his hot cum spurting inside me. It felt so good I wished we could do it all over again straight away.

I lay still for a few moments, basking in the afterglow. My body felt boneless, pleasantly sated. Harle’s arm draped over my waist, his chest pressed against my back. For a brief, blissful moment, I allowed myself to enjoy it. Just revel in how lovely it felt to lie there, in his arms.

Then reality came crashing back. What the fuck was I doing? Don’t get used to this. Don’t get needy. This wasn’t some romantic getaway. It was a clinical arrangement to get pregnant. I couldn’t let myself get caught up in the moment, no matter how good it felt.

I tensed, suddenly hyper-aware of every point of contact between us. Harle must have sensed the change because he pulled away, the mattress dipping as he climbed from the bed.

“Come on. Let’s get in the shower.”

“Huh?”

“What do you mean, huh?”

I could hear the amusement in his voice.

“You want me to shower with you?”

“Yup.”

“Oh, um, okay.”

I hesitated for a moment before pushing myself up, my legs still feeling a little wobbly. My mind was spinning, trying to catch up with everything that had just happened. The way he’d touched me, the way he seemed to know exactly what I needed. It had shaken me.

All those years with Brian, and I’d never felt anything like that. It made my head spin, this realization that maybe it wasn’t me who was broken. Maybe it was never my fault. But letting myself think that way was terrifying. I didn’t know how to process any of it, didn’t know how to fit any of this into my carefully labelled boxes.

Following Harle into the bathroom, I watched while he turned the water on and adjusted the temperature, very much admiring the view.

He was so casual about it all. Like this was normal, like we’d been doing this for years. It made something twist in my chest, a strange mix of longing and fear.

I wasn’t supposed to want this kind of intimacy with him. I wasn’t supposed to be craving his touch, wasn’t supposed to be savoring the memory of his hands on my body. It was too dangerous, letting myself get comfortable with this. Because the more I let myself feel, the more I let myself enjoy it, the harder it would be to walk away when this was all over.

Harle turned to face me, giving me that easy smile. The one that made my insides go all soft and warm. “In you get.”

I stepped into the shower, closing my eyes as the warm water cascaded over me. It was comforting, the heat loosening the tension in my muscles. I let out a long breath, trying to let go of the chaotic thoughts swirling in my head. Harle stepped in behind me, closing the door. He didn’t say anything, but I could hear the familiar sound of body wash being squirted onto a loofah.

I kept my eyes closed as I felt the gentle touch of the loofah against my skin, moving in slow, soothing circles. Harle’s hands were careful, respectful, but undeniably intimate as he washed my shoulders, my back, down the length of my arms.

“How did you know what to do?”

“To get you off?” His voice was low, with the hint of a smile audible.

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s like this, my overthinking friend. A woman doesn’t kiss like you do, or gasp like you do, or feel like you do, if she can’t be turned all the way on.”

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