Page 68 of False Start
But I don’t.
This somehow is the clearest thing I’ve ever come to understand. Harvey’s already shown me all the ways she can love; it’s not up to me to love her back in the same fashion. It’s up to me to learn how she wants that love returned.
“Everything sounds good. What do you want?” She breaks me out of my thoughts, and I realize I haven’t even looked at the menu yet.
Her hand drops to my thigh. I fumble with the napkin rolled around my utensils, but her touch is impossible to ignore.
My pulse is loud in my ears, her fingers casually fidgeting with the holes in my fishnets, entwining around each thread like she doesn’t care if she rips them further.
I’m at that shitty point in the comedown where I would have dumped out my next hit hours ago. Instead, I’m tired, my mind wanting to sleep but my body fighting against it. I need to get high, but the thought of disappointing Harvey right now is too much to bear. Hurting Kade was a machete through my soul; I can’t imagine what letting down Harvey would feel like.
It’s like she can tell when I’m lost inside my head, diving far too deep into the depths of that aphotic swamp, the one that swallows up all the comfort in my mind and drowns me in sorrow. Her fingers scratch at the inside of my thigh. I hold my breath, only taking a tiny sip through tight lungs every time I feel her touch scale higher.
I can’t avoid it; my face burns along with the rest of me. The anticipation only builds the more she runs the edges of her fingers along the bottom of my spandex shorts.Legally,they’re shorts, but I’ve had underwear that covers more. It has never mattered on the track, but here, with her hand a fraction of an inch from where I ache to feel her, it’s too obvious to ignore.
Finally, I look her way. She’s still pretending to be looking at the menu, a crooked smirk painted across that devilishly good-looking face, that perfectly defined jaw that shadows at the edges every time she clenches her teeth.
“Orange juice or soda?” she asks, eyes still glued to the menu, her fingers invading their way into my shorts.
“Sprite,” I exhale it out like it even fucking matters, her hand stopping just at the apex of my thighs.
Move your fucking fingers. I want to scream, but the server is back to take our order.
“What are you thinking?” Harvey asks.
Shrugging, I give her the truth. “I’m not super hungry. Can I just pick off your plate?”
She eyes me suspiciously, but she doesn’t fight it, doesn’t try to convince me to get anything. Still, she orders more food than I assume necessary for a single person.
I’m acutely aware of the way the server’s eyes drift down from her notepad to where Harvey’s hand grips my thigh. She blinks twice, registering the way her fingers are buried inside the crevice of my shorts. Harvey doesn’tbreak eye contact with the server, despite the many times her gaze drifts back down to where her hand sits.
“I’ll do the double sunshine special, with the hashbrowns instead of the side of fruit. An order of sausage on the side, and what’s your pancake of the day?” Every word rolls off Harvey’s tongue confidently, like she’s not worried about the server's eyes or that she’s a movement away from her fingers feeling the arousal I’m uncomfortably sitting in.
She does a double take. “The what?” Focusing back on Harvey and gripping her pen with a bit more rigor.
“The pancake of the day,” Harvey repeats with a tilt of her head, her eyes doing all the smiling for her.
“Nutella and banana,” the server answers with a clear of her throat.
“That sounds great. We’ll do an order of those as well. I’ll take a coffee too, and she’ll have a Sprite.” Harvey hands the server back the menu with her free hand and then thanks her.
She’s barely turned on her heels when I feel her slide through my folds without warning. The moment is electric. Her fingers, the sensation, the fuckingrestaurant booth. I cover my face with my hand and my cast, dropping my head to the table. She doesn’t stop.
Holy shit.
It takes no time at all, minimal effort for her to get me close to the edge. I was wet from my last orgasm, but the ten minutes we’ve spent in this booth with her teasing has me soaked. I hear a soft chuckle from her somewhere above me while still hiding in the shield of my own hands.
“Do you think if you can’t see them, they can’t seeyou?” Harvey asks, amusement dripping from every syllable.
I nod, head still down, breathing heavily as her fingersmove back and forth so lazily, so tantalizingly, that I can’t help but squeak through my throat. And then her hand is gone, and my head is snapping up on demand, like I’ve been deprived of something I deserved.
She delights in the disappointment that’s all over my face, but she nudges her head to the server coming back with her coffee and my soda. I pull the paper top off the straw like an animal, bringing the drink to my mouth and relishing in the way the bubbles calm my stomach. When I lean back into my seat, her hand finds the side of my face, turning my gaze to hers.
Her eyes dart over my face, like she hasn’t taken in my features from this close up before. She has, but it’s like this time, she’s memorizing them. Harvey’s fingers are still gripping at my jaw when she brings her mouth to mine, her tongue parting my lips and her hand reaching through the top of my shorts this time. There’s no pause from her, no hesitation, no second to look around.
Her tongue is hot, tangling with mine and leaving me little time to react when her fingers reach back in, forcing me to shift as she pushes her way inside me. She’s pulling her face away from mine, that cocky smile I love now plastered over her face as she works her fingers deeper.
It’s too instinctual to fight, the casted arm slamming down on the table while the other hand clutches her thigh. The burst of pain is hot through my wrist, but it’s muted by pleasure. The sound draws attention through the small diner, forcing a few of the patrons sitting at the bar to turn their heads in our direction. Harvey doesn’t stop, but she shifts in her seat, keeping me from anyone’s view but hers.
