Page 39 of Double Dared
And at the gallery, when a girl’s mere presence threatened everything that was dear to me without me realizing how dear it was, and when I kissed him so stupidly that it nearly shattered the one thing I wanted to keep intact, I should have known.
I should have realized it then, if not sooner, that I wanted so much more than to dance paces away from him, only watched, never held by him, never joined in dancing, never kissed in everyone’s plain sight.
But I knew now, even if I no longer considered myself a trustworthy source on what I felt, that this was real. It had to be. Only I could be so stupid as not to realize it sooner.
I let my other foot step into the bathroom and pushed the door shut as steam began to build along the ceiling.
Harrison reached for his belt and unbuckled it, biceps tensing as he did so. His gaze found my eyes and locked on them, and he waited for me to take a step toward him.
I only hesitated because I was stunned. Stunned by myself, my own ignorance, my own lifelong illusions, my total lack of self-awareness. And stunned byHarrison himself. His beauty, his attraction, his wit, his sheer existence in the same time and place as my own.
“Are you nervous?” Harrison asked.
I shook my head, not taking my eyes off his face.
“Good,” Harrison said.
And then I did take that step. With each second that ticked away, each fraction of an inch I got closer to him, my resolve grew, as did the heat soaring through my body.
Ignoring some remnants of shame that had clouded me for so long, I dropped my gaze to Harrison’s chest. Short, trimmed hair covered his torso, neat and foreign and so, so attractive.
I reached for my belt, but Harrison’s hand moved there first. “Let me,” he said.
As his fingers brushed the skin of my abdomen, my dick throbbed hard and stopped me from breathing for a long moment. A choked, barely audible moan dragged through my throat and surprised Harrison as much as it surprised me.
He looked up and tugged me closer by the belt before unbuckling it. “What happened?” he asked, letting go of the belt and tracing the seam of the waist of my pants from my hips inward, slowly reaching for the button above the zipper.
“I…” My voice was low and husky, just a touch above a whisper, only a little louder than the pattering of water against the tiles in Harrison’s shower. “I’ve been lying to myself.”
“Are you sure? If you’re not?—”
“Oh, I’m sure,” I said, placing my hands on Harrison’s waist and pulling him in.
He undid the button and pulled down the zipper, his hand brushing against the growing bulge in my underwear. He smiled and nodded. “You really are,” he agreed.
His hand moved along the length of my cock deliberately, his eyes sparking with lust that was so unmistakable I wondered how I hadn’t realized he’d been looking at me like this earlier.
I leaned into him; the feeling of his hand inside my pants, tracing the fabric of my underwear, made my knees weak. “Don’t stop,” I whispered.
He continued to drag his hand back and forth, following my cock all the way to where it pushed my underwear off my body, then back, fingers moving lightly down to my balls, teasing, promising, offering, asking for the things we could give one another.
Harrison pulled his hand up, tracing the line from my cock to my belly button. “Take off your clothes, Taylor. I want to see you.”
“You first,” I said.
A corner of his lips ticked up a tiny fraction, and then he stepped back from me and peeled his pants down his legs, bending over to pull them off his ankles and feet. When he straightened, he was magnificent. He wore pastel pink boxer briefs that made my heart skip a beat. Not the color I’d associated with Harrison before, but a color that fit him perfectlynow.
His underwear wasn’t what my gaze lingered on. It was the size of the bulge stretching the fabric thin that made me stop. I hadn’t thought ahead this far. I hadn’t been thinking at all. The only thing I’d been following was the growing certainty that we had been circling around this for a very long time, never daring to cross the invisible lines that held us caged in our designated places.
When I’d seen the moment of jealousy turn his face red earlier today, this certainty flew off the charts. After that, every interaction only pushed me further. It was all one big confirmation: Harrison wanted me as more than a friend. And when I felt wanted by him, I allowed myself to want him back.
Harrison lifted the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down, dragging them down his big quads and letting them drop to his ankles. His dick rose straight and proud before him, long and hard, swinging gently with its own weight as Harrison turned a little sideways, his ass sculpted and curved so nicely. “How does this make you feel?” he asked.
Something grew so unbearably tight in my chest that I couldn’t speak. Instead, I pulled down my pants and underwear in one move, yanked them off my feet, and stood up, riding whatever courage I could muster for this.
I was achingly hard already and desperately needy for his touch, so I moved toward him without a pause, pushing him into the shower and under the pouringhot water. It sprayed us both instantly, soaking his hair and mine, and Harrison’s back slammed against the tiles as I pressed myself against him, relishing the feeling of his dick touching my abdomen as our bodies touched and merged.
I crushed his mouth with mine, kissing him freely, lips parted and tongue venturing into his mouth, searching for his tongue.
