Page 60 of In Love with Lewis Prescott
I’m heartened at the way she offers up help without being preachy or self-important, like some people.
“You’re right. I should probably see someone about this. It’s probably not normal that every time I talk about my parents, my hands shake and my heart beats like it’s going to burst out of my chest.”
“I talk to a therapist sometimes,” she says after a moment passes. “I don’t like going in person to an office. It feels like too much for some reason. But I found an online therapist who helps me sort through my feelings and emotions when I’m going through something tough. It helps a lot. That’s an option.”
I gaze down at her, my heart racing for an entirely different reason this time. This woman. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. Honest and open and unafraid to talk about topics that would send most people running for the hills. Never in my life has anyone talked about therapy as casually and without judgment as she just did.
In the past, I’ve thought about seeing a counselor or therapist to work through the family issues I clearly have. But I had no idea how to go about finding a good doctor. I tried to ask friends and colleagues a time or two, but they made dismissive comments about mental health, so I just clammed up and told them never mind.
“Sorry if I sound like I’m trying to sell you on therapy,” she says. “I used to have a pretty narrow-minded view about seeking out help, but my cousin’s fiancé is a therapist, and he really changed my mind for the better.”
“No, I appreciate it. I’d love to start seeing someone.”
She smiles. “I can send you my therapist’s info to start. She’ll probably have a lot of great recommendations.”
I tell her thanks, then look at our joined hands. “What a weird turn today took. I thought I’d have you writhing on top of my bedsheets, and look at us now. Holding hands and talking feelings on the couch.”
“As much as I’d love to be going at it with you in bed, I don’t think that’s the best thing to do right now.”
I deflate. It must be obvious in my expression and body language how disappointed I am, because she backtracks instantly. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m ridiculously attracted to you, Lewis. There’s a connection here I haven’t felt with anyone before. And I’m dying to act on that. It’s just that you’ve been through some pretty emotionally draining stuff today, so I don’t want to push you into doing anything physical while you’re processing everything.”
I can’t help the pang of disappointment that radiates through me at what she’s said. But she’s right. Minutes ago I couldn’t stop shaking because I was so upset. I clearly need some time to settle my nerves and decompress before we dive into bed together.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean all physical stuff is off the table.”
I wag an eyebrow at her, chuckling when her brow lifts slightly.
“What do you mean?” she asks.
I pull her to straddle my lap. Then I cradle her face in my hands. “I’d like to spend the next few minutes kissing the hell out of you, Harper.”
The way she stammers as her mouth drops open sends a thrill surging through me.
“Are you sure?”
Her gentle tone makes me ache. “Absolutely. I’ve been dying to kiss you this whole time.”
With that admission, she leans close, lightly pressing her lips to mine. I can tell she’s being soft for my sake, because she doesn’t want to push too hard, too soon. But I want it. I wanther. I want a kiss from her more than I want air to breathe or water to drink.
With my hands gripping her hips, I pull her to slide closer to me, so that the apex of her thighs is flush with the bulge of my dick.
“Do you feel how sure I am?” I rasp against her mouth. “Do you feel just how much I want you right now?”
Any ounce of hesitation lurking inside her disappears, judging by the way she attacks me with her mouth. Her hands grip the sides of my face as she kisses so hard, so fast I can barely keep up. But then she eases, her rhythm turning slow and teasing, the tip of her tongue lapping my tongue like she’s tasting the most delicious ice cream.
I groan at how smoothly she can flip from hot and heavy to slow and tantalizing. She presses harder into me until heat puddles on my lap where she’s sitting. I jerk my hips up, bouncing her slightly. She giggles into my mouth, which makes me smile. But the smiles don’t last for long. Soon the rhythm of our breathing turns desperate. So do our kisses. Our mouths and tongues get so filthy that I start to feel dizzy. When Harper claws at my chest, then my hair, then my chest again, I’m practically vibrating. God, I want this woman. Whatever she’s willing to give me, I’ll happily take.
My fingertips flirt with the hem of her shirt. She nods, and I slide my hands up the fabric, relishing the impossibly soft feel of her body.
“Your skin. Fuck. It’s like silk,” I say between kisses.
She grins without breaking our kiss.
“Can I...” I pull her shirt up slightly.
Her response is to yank it completely over her head, leaving her in just a lace bra. I choke at the sight of her, at the image of this flawless angel who was somehow dropped in my lap.
I cup her cheeks in my hands. “You’re so beautiful.”
