I don’t know what will happen tomorrow. Harper’s made it clear—she has plans. Plans that probably involve going back to East Texas and marrying another man. Plans that might mean tonight is all we get.
So if this is my last night on Earth?
I’m not wasting a second of it.
My eyes drift closed despite the adrenaline. The anticipation has been building so long it’s exhausting. The podcast narrator’s voice fades into background noise...
I wake to sensation.
A hand sliding around my waist. Fingers trailing lower. The heat of a body pressed against my back, soft curves molding to my spine.
For a second, I think I’m dreaming. I have to be.
Harper? Here? In my room, in my bed, touching me like this?
I’ve been dreaming about it for so long, it seems impossible that it’s real.
But her breath is warm against my ear, her weight real and solid behind me. This isn’t a dream. This is actually happening.
She’s here.
In the bed where I grew up. On the twin mattress that used to sit in a race car frame. There’s something about that contrast—childhood innocence and this very adult moment—that makes my heart hammer even harder.
Her fingers slip beneath my shirt, cool against my overheated skin. She traces the trail of hair below my navel with her thumb, back and forth, deliberate and teasing.
Every compulsion, every ritual, every careful pattern I’ve built?—
Gone.
Just gone.
There’s only Harper.
Her breath against my ear. Her fingers on my skin. The warmth of her body.
All the anxiety that’s been building for hours just... evaporates.
This is what it feels like to be present. To not be trapped in my head.
This is what it feels like to be free.
I suck in a breath. Can’t help it. The sensation shoots straight through me.
“So you are awake,” she murmurs against my ear, voice low and amused.
“Oh, I’m awake.” My voice comes out rougher than intended. Every instinct screams at me to flip over, grab her, and put everything I learned this afternoon into practice. Show her exactly what I’ve been imagining. My body trembles with the control it takes to stay still and let her lead.
“You’re shaking,” she whispers. There’s mischief in her tone but something else too. Something that sounds like genuine care.
“It’s taking everything I have not to turn around and—” I cut myself off, jaw clenched. “It feels so good. Just you here. Touching me.”
She makes a pleased sound, and I can hear the smile in her voice. She sounds more like herself, less like she’s performing some role. Good. I don’t want seduction games. Don’t want her armor. I just want Harper—real, here, choosing to be with me.
“I like it when you touch me,” I manage as her fingers drift lower, tracing the waistband of my pajama pants. “Like this.”
“Yeah?” Her fingertips walk along the elastic, teasing. “You like it when I play like this?”
My breath catches. “Yep.” The word comes out tight. “Definitelyyep.”