Harkham's Case (Harkam's #1)

by Chanse Lowell

  What would it feel like to have her warm hands touch his chest, his abs, his sore spot?

  He groaned, and she started scratching his legs in the most beautiful way imaginable. Long grazing strokes that stole his breath away.

  “I can turn this off,” she offered, “if it’s bothering you.”

  “No! And keep touching me that way.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m surer than I could ever be. I really like it.”

  He rolled onto his side. She’d see his predicament, but if she was okay seeing that naked man on TV, maybe she wouldn’t be offended.

  “I can tell,” she said, but it was soft and kind.

  His dad was wrong. It wasn’t rude to have an erection. Mari was fine with it. He rolled over onto his back.

  “You make me really sore all the time, Mari. Is that gross to you?”

  She glanced down at his legs on her lap. She stroked and massaged them now as she stared at them.

  “Gross? Why would it be gross?” She chuckled, then let her head dangle. “I’m seriously in need of some intense therapy.” Her hands stopped and stayed still where they were—right by his ankles. He wanted them higher.

  She took a deep breath and turned to him with a look of fire in her eyes.

  “Why? You’re normal, not like me.” His brow furrowed.

  “Normal isn’t my problem. Being screwed up is, and I want things I shouldn’t.” She moved his legs to spread out on each side of her so she was sandwiched between them. Her next move was to get up on her knees.

  A look of apology swept over her face.

  “If you kiss me again, it might make you feel better like before,” he lied again. He couldn’t help it. Nothing could be better than kissing her. She probably didn’t need it—but he did! And since she was fine with his state, he refused to feel guilty.

  “It might. But what will that say to you? I know you’re a guy, and you seem to be hard a lot around me. I don’t mind, because well . . . God!” She groaned like she was sore too.

  “If it hurts, I can maybe help you.” His eyes grew big, pleading. “I want to help. Please. We can need each other to feel better. It’s okay to do that. We don’t have to suffer alone.”

  “Forgive me,” she said as if talking to someone else, crawled over and laid right on top of him.

  His head flung back as his lower back arched. He wasn’t sure why his body did that, but it was enticing the way it smashed up into hers. The best part? She was on top, so he couldn’t hurt her with his body weight.

  Her fingertips grazed up his neck. “Such a beautiful, pure soul. You should run from me while you can,” she whispered.

  He tipped his head back down. This was scary-sounding talk. “I will never run from you—never!”

  “Then you’ll be damned, just like me.” A breath pounded into his neck and was followed by her lips.

  “Ohhhhhh God!” he murmured.

  His entire body was shaking like the numbers she controlled were trying to break free. He tried to breathe them out, but it failed.

  “I have to grab you—keep me safe,” he warned and wrapped his arms around her so tight his chest could barely move with his next inhale. It was scattered anyway—his breathing. So were his thoughts. Lost in the sensations from her mouth and fingertips. He’d never felt anything like this ever before.

  She kissed his neck, licked under his jaw and blew on it.

  Tongue? Zach mentioned it with a kiss.

  And when Tara’s tongue touched, he wanted to disappear, turn to dust so he could get rid of the foul feelings it created.

  But this—Mari’s tongue—he wanted to keep it on him.

  With a growl, he managed to roll them over. Without thinking about what this could mean in terms of damage to her health, he lowered his full weight on top of her. He cupped her jaw, controlled her mouth by making it open and he placed his tongue gently inside the second their lips touched.

  What was he supposed to do now?

  “Mmmhhhhngh,” she moaned as her tongue wetted his lips, stroked his tongue and her hands dug into his shoulders. Her body moved with urgency.

  It sounded like him when he chugged a soda and couldn’t get it down fast enough or ever have his fill.

  “Oh God, oh Gawwwwwwd. It’s sore, Mari, too sore,” he chanted a few times. “I like it though—it’s sore for you.” He started to roll his hips into her, and she sucked in some air.

  “This is so wrong,” she said under her breath and shook her head slowly from side to side.

  “Not wrong. That man was naked with that woman on that show, and it was okay.” He moved to pull off his shirt, but at the last minute before he had it over his head, her hands landed on the hem, stopping him.

  “We can’t do this,” she said.

  He pulled his shirt harder, trying to yank it off.

  “We can. I’m twenty-one.”

  “Oh, great! Don’t tell me that!” she said and somehow she managed to roll out from under him until she was free from the couch. She was now on the ground. Free of him.

  He had his shirt off finally, and she looked upset. Why? He was pleased to be partially naked in front of her.

  Was he ugly?

  “You think I’m too skinny? I’m not as thick as Captain Jack is in the chest, but I—”

  She fell on her knees in front of him, and his pants poked out with a giant twitch.

  Her mouth was by the sore area.

  What if . . .

  “Adam, it’s not. You’re . . . Do I even need to say it?” She huffed. “And I’m all wrong for you. You deserve somebody infinitely kind who hasn’t already blown their life to hell and back. If I ever hurt you, I’d never forgive myself—and I already have way too much baggage in that closet.”

  He blinked. “I don’t understand. Did I kiss you wrong? Was the tongue yucky?”

  Her eyes shimmered like light on water, and a few tears rolled down. His eyes grew wide, and he burst into tears.

  “I hurt you. I promised I wouldn’t do that again, and I did it so soon after. I’m sorry. I’ll leave now,” he cried, reaching for his shirt.

  “Adam—stop.” She brushed her tears away with the backs of her hands, then did the same for him.

  He leaned into her touch.

  “What did I do wrong?” His voice cracked.

  “Nothing. You did everything perfectly, angelically right. I know it’s hard to understand—but I’m protecting you from me. All of you, every inch, is good. I want to keep you that way, because it’s what makes you so powerful.” She sniffed, and tears were forming in her eyes again. “It’s what makes you special.”

  He shook his head. There was no way he could like this. “All I want is for you to touch my chest a little. Why can’t you do that?”

  “If I do that, then what comes after?” Her eyes roamed down his chest.

  His nipples hardened from that little act.

  “Please—we can decide what comes after later.”

  “No. We decide now. And if we have a good answer, then I’ll do it.” Her eyes hardened, but not as much as his sore spot.

  He jutted his hips up. It was too hard to stop them.

  “But I need it. Real bad,” he whimpered. “And I don’t know what comes after. I’ve never done this before.”

  She cupped his face with both hands. It was warm and soft like her velvety couch. He closed his eyes.

  “Would you ever hurt somebody on purpose?”

  “No,” he answered right away.

  “Well, I did once. And it was really bad. So bad a lot of people’s lives changed forever. I can never atone for that. But being around you—I don’t know . . . It”—she licked her lips and paused—“makes me forget those things, and I feel normal again, like I can be good someday. Like it will all heal in time. I never believed that before you.”

  “You’re scaring me.” His stomach knotted, so he grabbed her hand and put her palm on his chest. That would make that yuckiness
inside him go away.

  And it did.

  Her fingers flexed, caressed a little.

  He released a tight breath—letting it escape.

  She did it again, and there was the same reaction from him.

  “Being scared is the right emotion—I want you to fear me—because then you’ll keep your distance.”

  She laid her head on his abdomen, looking up at him while her hand roamed over his chest. “You’re so gorgeous, Adam. But I’m sure you know that.”

  He smiled. “If you think so, then I’m glad.”

  “I do.” She smiled back.

  “I want to be whatever makes you happy. A song that makes you smile.”

  “You already are. We don’t have to be more than friends to have those things,” she said, still staring at his face.

  “But we do, because it’s already what we’ll be. We don’t get to decide. Not really.” He pulled her hand over to his thumping heart. “This gets to decide, and I say you’re mine very soon.”

  “We can’t have sex,” she stated matter-of-factly.

  “We can some day. Maybe not now, but that can happen. We’ll want it.”

  “I already do,” she said, right in sync with her thoughts.

  He grinned really wide. “I can find a way to protect us both. It can be good. Zach has condoms, and I can—”

  “See? This is why we can’t even do simple things like me touching your chest, because then we lose our heads and do stupid shit we know we shouldn’t.”

  “We’re only talking about it right now.” He held her hand over his heart with his hand. “It’s okay to want things.”

  “It’s not okay when your name is Mari and you’re more fucked up than any teenager in the entire state.”

  He made a whining noise through his nostrils.

  “Here—you wanna know how awful I am?” She puffed out her cheeks for a second.

  “You’re not awful. That’s not possible.”

  She gave him a look like he was deranged, her head cocked to the side. “I had this saying for years. It helped me remember who I was. It went like this: When it’s time to sleep, and the sheep don’t come. The night starts with two, and it ends with one. When the condom comes off, that’s when you know. He gathers his shit, and out he’ll go.”

  “Why?”

  “Why did I say that to myself?”

  He blinked and nodded.

  She pulled her lips in, then released them. “Because—that’s what stupid sluts tell themselves so they don’t get involved.”

  “And don’t get hurt emotionally?” His eyes were all watery. She must think he was one of those guys she wanted to boot out.

  “Yes.” She paused. “And because I’m not the caring, nurturing type. I don’t cuddle and say I love you at the end of a good lay. It’s not in me to say that.”

  He shook his head and smiled. “You already are that with me. You cuddle with me all the time, and you barely know me.” He clicked his tongue. “See?”

  “What?” Her eyes crinkled at the inside corners, drawing her brows down.

  “You’re my girlfriend soon. You already do that stuff with me, because we’ll love each other, and there’ll be nothing to worry about. You already stroke me, caress and cuddle, because even if it felt wrong before, now it feels right—because it’s me.”

  Her jaw dropped open. She stood up and her hands that were on his chest, drifted up and into his hair. “I’ll hold your hand whenever you need. And yes—you’re right—I’ll stroke you a little. I’ll be your friend, but I won’t be your fuck buddy or your girlfriend, because you deserve a whole lot better. Hugs are good too—we can do that. But this . . .” she motioned between the two of them with her chin “. . . can’t happen. No more kissing. No nakedness. I care about your soul too much.”

  A door in the house opened in another room and a female’s voice called out, “Baby, you smoked in the Jeep. I told you to knock that off!”

  Mari grabbed his hand, and her face went stony. “Wanna meet my mom, or do you want to leave now? Your choice.”

  He took a deep breath and let go of her hand. A second later, he slid off the couch to standing, yanked his shirt back on and numbers swam in his head.

  No! No numbers. I’m with Mari!

  His jaw clenched. Mari stroked the taut muscles back there.

  How did she always know exactly where to touch him?

  Because she was his girlfriend. She just didn’t know it yet.

  He sighed.

  “You don’t have to touch her. In fact, you don’t have to stand close enough for her to breathe on you,” Mari told him.

  He stood as still as he could.

  “Breathe, hon. It’ll be all right.”

  He exhaled, but only because she told him he should. “What if she doesn’t like me?”

  “She will. She likes everybody, and you’re the most likable person I know, aside from your brother,” she said with a teasing tone.

  What did this mean? She’d never met him. How could she like him more?

  His chest heated and was making these shooting aches almost cripple him.

  How could he talk to her mom when right now all he wanted to do was hunt down his brother and demand he be less likable? Mari had to like Adam better than Zach. Or else . . .

  He shifted around, and a pained look crossed his face.

  Was she fighting off a smile?

  “You’re adorable,” she said.

  “Am not. I’m Adam. And I’m the man in this house right now. That makes me anything but adorable. I can be handsome, but that’s it.” He went all stiff, even his legs.

  “Okay, sure. You’re handsome. You always are.”

  He blinked hard.

  “Will you hold my hand while she talks to me?” he asked.

  This would mean she’d have to explain to her mom why he wasn’t her boyfriend but their hands were interlaced. But he was fine with that. Very fine with it.

  “I’ll do anything you ever need to make you comfortable.” She moved her face right in front of his and gazed up in his eyes. “I’ll always keep you safe.”

  There was some apprehension there from her, but he smiled and agreed.

  They walked hand-in-hand into the kitchen. Her mom was unloading a bag of groceries.

  “Mom, I have a friend here I want you to meet,” Mari said.

  Her mother turned around and scowled. “Who’s he?”

  It took him a moment to look her over. She was a good-looking older woman. Average height and build. She wore tight jeans and a white tee shirt with her hair back in a ponytail, just like Mari did.

  She wore trendy-looking sneakers, and her nails were short and neat.

  Oh good. That would make it easier for him to want to shake her hand.

  Her eyes were blue, not gray like Mari’s, and her hair was a lighter shade of brown, thinner and with a slight wave at the tips.

  “He’s Adam—my friend,” Mari answered.

  “Friend? Then why’s he—”

  “I want to be her boyfriend,” Adam answered. “Someday I will. I’m working on it, but for now, Mari’s only helping me with usual daily stuff.”

  “Helping you with what? What constitutes usual, daily stuff?” Her mother’s voice tightened. “What she could help anybody with besides gaining an ulcer is beyond me.” She went back to putting away the food she’d brought home.

  “If you know what I can do so I can date her, ma’am, I’d be only too happy to listen,” Adam said, taking tiny steps closer to her mom. “I’ll even listen while I help you put away your groceries. I’m good at helping with stuff like that. It won’t make me go into a fit or anything. I swear.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. So, all I can say is, good luck with that. My daughter doesn’t date—and it’s probably a good thing.” Her mom finished the last of what she was doing without his help.

  She moved around like an angry, buzzing bee.

  It was kind of
alarming actually, so he pressed himself up against the counter to get out of her way.

  She was making herself something to eat, ignoring him completely now.

  A pit settled in his stomach. If her mom hated him, then Mari might not ever want to be with him, even if she knew they belonged together.

  “I want you to know . . . Mari’s the best girl I’ve ever known. I haven’t known a lot, but some of them are mean-spirited and hurt me. She does the opposite. It’s nice to know I can go to school and have her protect me from the numbers in my head and the mean, owie girls that try to touch me in places I cannot allow.” He nodded and stepped back away from her.

  “Good to know, Dr. Phil. Now, can you leave so I can eat without the lecture?” Her mom grabbed a drink of water from the fridge.

  “But, Mom, can you just stop for a minute and lis—”

  Her mom turned toward her and glared at her like she was about to charge. “No. I’ve heard enough of this nonsense. Take this boy home this instant. I don’t have enough food to feed a ravenous teenage guy, or a strong enough stomach to hear any more of this.”

  “I’m not a teenager. I’m twenty-one,” he corrected her.

  “Oh, good. That’s way better. In fact—it’s perfect. Solves all my problems, past, present and future.” Her mother turned to the door and pointed at it. “What are you thinking? Take him home, now.” Her eyes went back on her daughter. “And no more smoking in the Jeep.”

  “I’m thinking we both needed a friend, and it works. Why the hell do you care?” Mari’s voice rose.

  “I don’t. Get this man out of my house. We need to talk about all this in private.” Her mom gripped her drink and plopped down into a chair at the kitchen table.

  “Goodbye, Mari’s mom. I think it’s great you speak your mind. Someday you’ll speak different things to me. Nicer things. Just like Mari will kiss me again someday, and that will be perfect, too.” He grinned and left the room.

  What else was there to say?

  Chapter 7

  Adam stepped back with an uncomfortable slant to his body like he was trying to get away. He mouthed a few numbers.

  Mari took his hand, and when she got him to the car, he started hyperventilating.