He bites my bottom lip, bringing me to his mouth. I sigh, urging him on. My hand cups his cheek, my fingers pushing under the hat he’s wearing, feeling his short hair against the pads of my fingertips. He pulls me closer, our chests touching. Everything in my heart is telling me to stop, that this isn’t right, but my body is telling him yes, I want this.
Harrison wraps his arm around my waist, leaving no space between our bodies. He moves me so I’m sitting on his lap. My hand roams down his chest, my fingers finding their way under his shirt. His breathing hitches when I touch him. He places kisses along my jaw, nibbling my neck as my hand explores his chest. The soft kisses and dangerous bites he’s giving me drive me crazy. This shouldn’t be happening. I shouldn’t feel like this in another man’s arms.
But I do feel like this and I can’t help but want more. Crave more.
“Harrison,” I say, barely above a whisper.
He pulls away, resting his forehead against mine. Our breathing is heavy with anticipation. It could be so easy to fall into his arms and forget the heartache I’ve been dealing with, but I can’t, in good conscience enter into a relationship with him.
“Please don’t tell me to stop, Katelyn. I can’t. I can feel that you want this as much as I do.”
I shake my head without breaking our contact. Why doesn’t he understand that I can’t be anything more to him? I need to remove myself from the situation. Keep things professional between us.
The ringing of his cell phone causes me to pull away. I move, keeping one of the couch cushions between us. He pulls out his cell phone, only breaking eye contact when he looks the screen. He silences it and looks back at me.
“We need to talk.”
“Why?” he asks.
“Because this can’t happen between us.”
Harrison leans his arms on his knees and sighs. “So you’ve said, yet you’re the one in here watching me while I sleep, touching me and encouraging me to pursue this with you. You got jealous when I left the bar the other night with a woman. You acted like we were something at the park. I don’t get you at all.”
His cell phone rings again, before I can respond. He silences it.
“I want to get you, Katelyn. I want to understand what goes on in your head and be there when you need someone. I can be that person for you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I do.” He gets up and starts to pace, only to be stopped by his cell phone again.
“Shouldn’t you answer that, it must be important?”
“No I shouldn’t and it’s not important. You’re important. You’re what matters right now,” he says as he drops to his knees in front of me.
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t.”
“Is there a difference?” I ask.
“Can’t means there’s something physically holding you back from me and I know that’s not true. I can feel it when you kiss me and just now, the way you were touching me, exploring with your hands.
“Won’t means you won’t give in to temptation, but we already know that’s not true. You’ve let me kiss you. You’ve let me hold you against my body. Neither of these are valid reasons.
“I know you’ve lost your husband. I know every day is a battle for you because you miss him. I’m not trying to take his place with you or the twins. I just want to fit into your life.”
“You make everything sound so easy.” Harrison pulls my hand into his.
“It is,” he says with such confidence.
“It’s not.”
“Only because you don’t allow it.”
“Our lifestyles are different. I’m a mom of two who needs to be home at all times. You’re a drummer in a band who leaves all the time and spends months on the road. You have all these women throwing themselves at you, and I wouldn’t be able to trust the situation. I’ve seen it first hand. I don’t know how Josie does it, but I wouldn’t be able to. We’re too different.”
“Different is good.”
“No, different causes problems. There are expectations that have to be followed.”
“Expectations?” he questions, raising his eyebrow.
Harrison stands in front of me making me look up at him. “People have expectations of me,” I say quietly.
He leans over me, one arm resting on the arm of the couch. “You give a shit about what people think?”
My throat constricts because I hate that I do care about what people think. I nod and break eye contact because I don’t think I can take the look he’ll give me.
“That’s such bullshit. You won’t be with me because you’re worried about what people will think? What if they think ‘wow look at Katelyn, she’s found someone to love her and the girls, or is that not good enough for you?”
I look at him when he says love. He’s got to be joking. No one can love a widow with two kids. “Love?” I question, wanting to know his answer.