Page 64 of A Brush with Love
Harper stepped forward and pressed her soft lips against his, cutting through his words and stealing the air from his lungs. Time started and stopped where their lips met.
The taste of her. The feel. All he could do was wrap his hands around her waist and bring her closer against him, returning the kiss in all its gentle chaos.
In every imagining, Dan had pictured their first kiss to be wild, frenzied. He’d assumed that when he finally pressed his lips to hers, it would be nothing but uncontrolled hunger and passion. A clashing of teeth and bruising of lips as they finally came together in the moment they’d been circling endlessly.
But it wasn’t.
It was soft.
And tender.
And raw with vulnerability.
It was the air he didn’t know he needed.
Harper sighed and melted further into him. Dan lost himself in the sensation of his hands splaying across her body, his legs tangling between hers. Her tongue slid over his and the feeling hummed into his bones. She was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted, and he knew he’d never get enough.
Dan pulled her closer still, his whole body straining to touch hers. Their lips molded together in a conversation that words had failed. In that kiss, their weary souls reached out for tentative touches, soft strokes, offering nothing more than recognition and acceptance.
Their kisses slowed to languid brushes, desire building in their chests. She pressed one final touch to the corner of his mouth and pulled away, meeting his eyes.
“I don’t have this innate hate for people born into a family name and class that affords them certain privileges—that’s life,” she whispered against his skin. Dan nodded and moved to kiss her again, their lips pressing against each other in small smiles.
“What I do hate,” she continued, looking up at him, “are the people who act like they’reentitledto those privileges because of their name.” She moved her hand to the nape of his neck, running her fingers through his hair. “That isn’t you. That could never be you.”
Dan pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, enjoying the gentle stroke of her hands. She didn’t judge him. She didn’t press him for more. With Harper, he wasn’t a student, he wasn’t a letdown, he wasn’t someone’s son. He wasn’t anything more than himself.
She was Harper and he was Dan. And that was enough.
“Do you want to start tonight over?” Harper asked. “We can order a pizza and sit on my couch and drink and talk and pretend none of this happened?”
Dan’s eyes shot open, locking on her. “I’m not going to pretend that kiss didn’t happen… I’m not going to letyoupretend that didn’t happen.”
She huffed out a laugh and rubbed the tip of her nose against his. “We can remember that happened, but everything else was just a really bad dream.” She stepped back from him, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “Regardless, you look like you could use afriendtonight.”
Dan grimaced and Harper burst into laughter. A growl bubbled from his throat and he pulled her in for another tight hug. She wrapped her arms around his waist and sighed.
“You really are my best friend,” she whispered against his chest.
He smiled as his heart beat into his throat. “All part of the plan, Horowitz. Now let’s get that pizza.”
CHAPTER 21
DAN
Dan lay propped up on his elbow across from Harper on her living room floor, a ravaged pizza box and two empty wine bottles littered between them. Harper used his discarded suit jacket as a pillow while she leaned back against the base of the couch, the skirt of her dress pooling in an emerald sea around her. Judy used the layers of fabric to duck and hide while Dan teased her with his undone tie, making Harper giggle when the cat pounced so hard against him, she knocked him off balance.
“Listen,” Dan said, chucking the tie out of the room and causing Judy to chase after it. “Tobey Maguire is the best Spider-Man casting in franchise history. I’m not gonna fight you on this one.”
Harper let out a choked shriek, her eyes sparkling from the combination of drinks and conservation.
“You’re so wrong. Andrew Garfield was the best Spider-Man we’ve had and ever will. There is no argument,” she said, leaning unsteadily across the pizza box to poke him in the chest.
Dan leaned in too, capturing her hand. “Are youkiddingme, Horowitz? Garfield? Pssht. I could at least understand you following the masses and obsessing over Tom Holland, butGarfield? Tobey Maguire is the only Spider-Man I’ll acknowledge. Thosetears? Iconic. It’s a cinematic masterpiece and you’ll never convince me otherwise.”
Harper gave a slow, drunken shake of her head. “You’re so blind. It’s like saying Chris Evans isn’tactuallySteve Rogers andCaptain Americawas poorly cast.”
Dan paused, his wineglass halfway to his lips, and thought for a moment. “They could have done better.”
