Page 60 of Double Dared
That first morning, waking up still in his arms, I was doubtful. Not about the things we’d done, but the idea that we were so free of our own minds that we could walk around naked and unshowered and very occasionally hard and horny.
I guess some of the things I’d spent my whole life learning and knowing were hard to ignore. It was an impulse to sit up and search for my underwear, to dress before he woke up and saw me in such a vulnerable moment. But then I thought about what he would say to this. He would tell me to use that instinct as a trigger to do the opposite.
So I surrendered to his hold and stayed the way I was. Embarrassment was the great killer of personality and individuality. It was so easy and tempting tomelt yourself down and be like everyone else, not stick out in any way, never draw the bad kind of attention. But who decided what kind of attention was good and what was bad? And why should I not let myself be vulnerable with someone who offered the same to me?
When he woke up, Harrison rolled onto his back and pulled me in close to himself.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
“Better than I can remember sleeping in the last three years,” I admitted.
He chuckled softly.
“I can’t believe we had sex again,” I said. It was true. And I didn’t fear that Harrison would take it the wrong way. There was nothing regretful about the thing I said.
“Why?”
I glanced up at him. “Um, we’re so different. You’re not at all the type I go out with.”
“Is this about my dick?” As if to emphasize it, he moved his hand down and gave himself a hard squeeze, semi-erect and growing closer to inviting me to forget about breakfast and coffee.
I shrugged. “You’re rich. Like really rich. One of your shoes is probably worth more than my annual salary.”
“You don’t work.”
“But if I did.”
Harrison thought about it. “I’m not sure what the inherent value of one shoe is.”
I shot him adon’t-be-an-asslook. “Half of what a pair is worth?”
“Is it, though? Would it be exactly half of a pair? What would it be worth to me if I only had one?”
“A lot after I bite your other foot off,” I grumbled.
We brushed our teeth together, standing side by side and looking in the mirror, where our naked figures looked back at us. Whenever I had a passing moment of concern that this was just silly and pointless, I knew that I should use that feeling to affirm myself.
Downstairs in the kitchen, Harrison ground the roasted coffee beans in an electric grinder, which was a shame, frankly, because I would have paid good money to watch him turn the grinder naked.
He had a cute, vintage espresso machine that he used for our morning shots while I stood next to a high chair by the kitchen island.
“You can sit,” Harrison said while the dark brown liquid dripped into a cup.
“I know,” I said, but I didn’t move.
He crossed his arms on his chest as he leaned his ass against the kitchen counter, and I was jealous of the counter. “Are you being shy?” he asked, pushing himself away from the counter and walking over to me.
“No,” I said, my voice a little too eager to make it sound like the truth.
Harrison came near me and put his hands on my hips and tugged me close to him until our bodies touched. “If you really want to, I won’t be mad if you dress.”
I laughed. “It’s not that.”
“What is it?” he asked.
I shrugged.
“You can tell me.”
