Page 104 of Suddenly Dating
“Why?We’re kind of in the middle of something here.”
He smiled. “You know why, you little lunatic. Because I want you. I want you so goddamn bad.”
His admission, completely in lockstep with her own violent desire, turned Lola into a ravenous beast. She tried to continue their frantic lovemaking, but Harry paused again.
“What?”she asked impatiently.
“Look at me, Lola,” he commanded. “I mean it.Lookat me.”
She could hardly catch her breath, but Harry had her pinned to the couch. So Lola looked at him. She looked directly into his eyes, and when she did, her heart began to jackhammer—she could see the raw want in his eyes. He trulywantedher, which made her yearning for him swell to the point of suffocating her. She lifted up on her elbows and kissed him, slowly and reverently, letting her emotions flow from her. She held nothing back.Nothing.
His clothing came off, and she was now wearing only a tiny bit of lace thong, which Harry promptly removed from her body. He twisted again, putting her on her back on that couch and moving on top of her. Something had shifted in Lola: she could feel it, could feel the newness, the freshness of this thing between them emerging stronger and more beautiful than before.
She was impatient. She took him in hand and began to move, gazing up at him with fierce determination. He slid into her and Lola closed her eyes, sighing with relief. She felt herself fraying at the edges; the thread had been pulled, and she was rapidly untangling from all the confusion and old habits and fears of rejection.
Harry moved steadily, watching her, really seeing her, and Lola wasn’t afraid of it. She began to move with him, urging him along, her hands tangling in his hair, her mouth dragging across his cheek, to his mouth. And then she was clutching him, her breath rising. He was hard and hot and he dug his fingers into her hips, lifting her up, pushing deeper until she cried out with release. He fell over the edge with her, gasping as the waves of fulfillment spilled over them.
Harry collapsed on top of her, breathing as hard as if he’d run up Juneberry Road.
Lola lazily twined her fingers in his hair. She didn’t want it to be over. She traced a line down his spine, filled her hand with his bare hip. She kissed his cheek, then his neck. Harry tried to move himself off her chest, but apparently misjudged his place on the couch. The two of them tumbled off, landing on the rug. After a stunned moment, they both burst into laughter. Lola sat up, bracing her arms against his chest. “Hey,” she said, pushing her hair from her face. “Which do you prefer? Cookies? Or skinny dipping?”
Harry caressed her arm as he smiled up at her. “Can I have both?”
“You can have anything you want,” she said, and winked as she hopped up and walked into the kitchen to resume her baking.
In the nude.
Sunday was possibly the most delightful day Lola had ever spent in her entire life.
She and Harry woke late, having spent half the night in the pool and in bed. They had a leisurely breakfast of pancakes, then sipped coffee as they dangled their legs in the pool, talking about everything and nothing.
Lola didn’t ask Harry his plans, and he didn’t ask her hers. They didn’t talk about the night before. They didn’t try to plot the future, they didn’t try to dissect the last few weeks. They just existed together in that space of complete and utter compatibility and contentment.
Later, they munched Lola’s batch of angry cookies while she worked on her book—Birta had ignited her determination—and Harry ran some numbers he wanted to think about before his meeting. Their phones rang with calls and beeped with text messages, but neither of them answered or looked at their screens. It quickly became clear to Lola that she was not the only one avoiding the outside world. It became so apparent, in fact, that she began to giggle every time one of their phones sounded.
In the afternoon they played a game of saying what they intended to do with the millions they hoped to make on books and bridges. Harry said he would buy a boat, maybe build a lake house in East Beach. Lola said she would put her mother in a better place and then open a bookstore. Harry said he would build a better place for her mother... maybe in Florida. Lola laughed and said that when her book was turned into a movie, she would thank him at the Oscars.
It was a whimsical day. They were like two little kids in a field of sunflowers.
Lola eventually returned to her work... or tried to. Harry kept distracting her. He put his hands on her shoulder and leaned over. “Who are you killing?” he asked.
“That’s an interesting question,” she said in all seriousness. “My girl met a pig on Match.com who dissed her. But when she goes to do the deed, he’s gone, and she finds his mother in his apartment.” She smiled devilishly. “His mother looks a lot like Birta Hoffman.”
Harry laughed. And then he reached over her, closed her laptop, and put his hands on her breasts.
“You’re going to keep me from being a literary success,” she warned him as he nuzzled her neck.
“I’m hoping you can be a literary success tomorrow,” he said, and pulled her to her feet, dancing her to a bedroom.
Yes, it was a wonderful, stupendous, beautiful, perfect summer day. Lola didn’t allow herself to think about tomorrow, because for the space of one Sunday, she was going to pretend that this was forever.
But eventually, the spell had to break, and Harry was the one to do it. It began when Lola saw him looking at his phone, then responding to a text. She tried not to think about it. That could have been a text from anyone.
It could have been... but it wasn’t.
Lola closed her laptop and busied herself making mushroom risotto.
When dinner was ready, they decided to eat outside.
