Happy Crazy Love Boxed Set

by Melanie Harlow

  Was I crazy not to?

  She wanted it, didn’t she?

  God, it had been so long…and I wanted her so fucking badly.

  As I watched her tilt her head back, lifting her face to the sun and exposing the pale white skin of her neck, I waited for the voice to kick in.

  But it didn’t. Amazed, I allowed my gaze to travel from her neck down her arms to her hands, which were crossed in front of her shins. She’d taken off her sneakers and her toenails were painted bright blue. Her legs were folded up in front of her chest, but I remembered how her nipples had been hard a few minutes ago and wondered if they still were. What color were they? Pale pink? Or deeper, like a rose? What would they feel like beneath my fingertips, between my lips, against my tongue?

  Fuck, I was so hard, and wanted so badly to touch her. I could be gentle, couldn’t I?

  It was worth a try. She was worth anything.

  “Your toes match your eyes,” I said, hoping to make her smile.

  Her lips tipped up, but she said nothing.

  “Skylar, you’ve been silent for five whole minutes. That’s a record, I think.”

  “Ha ha.”

  I stopped rowing and let us drift. On a Wednesday afternoon, there weren’t too many boats out on the bay, and none were heading in our direction. I dropped the light anchor into the water and made sure we were tethered. Skylar still hadn’t said a word, but at least she’d opened her eyes and was looking at me.

  “Everything OK?” I asked.

  She lifted her shoulders. “I’m just embarrassed again. I keep touching you, and it’s the wrong thing.”

  “No. It’s not.”

  “You get so jumpy.”

  “I know, but it’s not because I don’t like it. I do. It scares me how much I do.”

  “Well…good. I guess.” She tipped her head back again, then wiggled so she was lying on her back on the bottom of the boat.

  Carefully I moved to her side and stretched out next to her, head propped in my hand. “Hey.” I tapped her nose.

  She ignored me, which made me smile.

  “Still planning on taking a swim?”

  “I might. If I get hot enough.” She folded her hands on her belly.

  “That an invitation?”

  She stuck out her tongue at me.

  Smiling, I took off my sunglasses and studied her for another minute, appreciating the flawless symmetry of her face.

  I fucking loved symmetry.

  Her rosebud mouth pouted just a bit, and I traced her lips with one finger, licking my own. She was startled by my touch, her mouth opening slightly, her breaths warm and quick against my hand.

  Pretty soon I couldn’t resist—I leaned over and pressed my lips to hers.

  She let me kiss her, but didn’t really kiss me back, and her hands remained on her stomach. I lifted my head and looked down at her again. Stubborn little butterfly. Give in to me. I kissed each eyelid and the tip of her nose. Then I lowered my lips to her forehead and left them there. The voice returned.

  You really think you should do this?

  Yes. Shut the fuck up and go away. Or don’t. But I want to know what it’s like to kiss this woman, to touch her and feel her touch me. So you can either stick around and watch, or you can fuck right off.

  Feeling proud of myself, I kissed her lips once more, and her eyes opened.

  “Sebastian,” she whispered. “What are you doing?”

  “Ignoring the voice in my head telling me not to touch you.”

  She reached up and took my face in her hands. “Good.”

  My mouth closed over hers and she rolled to her side, putting her lower body flush to mine.

  Easy, easy, I told myself as her lips opened wider and I slipped my tongue between them. She tasted sweet, like mint and honey, and I lazily stroked her tongue with mine. My hands itched to explore her body, slide beneath her clothes, feel her bare skin, but I didn’t allow myself the pleasure yet. It had been so long, and my cock ached to get inside her, but I wanted to go slow, do this right.

  She wasn’t making it easy, though—not with the way she kissed, playful and light one moment, greedily sucking my tongue into her mouth the next, not with the way she raked her nails through my hair and held my head in her hands, not with the way she pressed her curvy little body closer to mine, throwing one leg over my hip. My erection bulged against my shorts, and I put my hand on her ass to pull her closer, rub my cock against the sweet spot between her legs.

  She moaned as I kissed her throat, swirling my tongue on her skin. “Mmmm. That feels so good,” she said softly, sliding a hand down my arm. “You surprised me.”

  I buried my face in her neck, breathing in her scent. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. In a good way.” She took my jaw in her hands, bringing my mouth up to hers. As the kiss deepened, she slipped a hand between us and rubbed my cock through my shorts…sweet, soft, slow strokes that made me dig my fingers into her back and pant against her lips. I rocked my hips, thrusting against her palm, and slid my hand underneath her shirt.

  Are you fucking crazy? You can’t touch her like that. You won’t be able to stop. You’re already so hard it hurts. Another minute and you’ll be totally out of control and she’ll be helpless against you. And you’re all alone out here on the water. No one would hear her scream.

  “Skylar,” I said, leaning my forehead against hers. “Maybe we should stop.”

  “You want to stop right now?” She pressed harder against my erection. “I can think of something more fun.”

  I groaned. “I know, but—just wait.” I sat up, breathing hard.

  “Okayyyy,” she said, clearly confused.

  I shoved my sunglasses on my face and moved to the opposite end of the boat from her to sit on the bench. But first I had to adjust myself.

  She laughed. “I’d say I’m sorry, but you know I’m not.”

  “I know. And I’m not either. It’s just…” I ran a hand over my hair and decided to be honest. I’d fucked up with Diana by trying to hide this shit. “The voice is telling me I’ll hurt you.”

  She looked surprised, her eyebrows rising. “It is? Right now? Tell it to fuck off.” She leaned forward conspiringly and whispered, “I like it a little rough, anyway.”

  “For god’s sake, Skylar. Don’t say that stuff to me,” I snapped. “You don’t know me at all.”

  “I’m trying, Sebastian! What the hell?” she cried, throwing a hand up. “Listen, if we’re going to be friends and I’m going to help you through whatever issue you have being close to me, then you should get used to the way I talk. I told you, I’m a very open person. I say what’s on my mind. Now what the fuck is on yours?”

  “I told you. I’ll fucking hurt you.”

  “How?”

  The words stuck in my throat, but finally I blurted the fucked-up truth. “I’ll choke you.”

  Her jaw dropped, and her fingertips touched her throat. “Choke me?”

  I nodded angrily. “Yes. I know it’s irrational and stupid, and I know you can’t understand, but it’s real to me.”

  Rather than reassure me I was being ridiculous, she crawled over and knelt between my feet. “Sebastian,” she said firmly. “Put your hands on me.”

  “What?”

  “Around my neck. Do it.”

  “No!” I gripped the edge of the bench, and she grabbed at my wrists.

  “Come on, grab me by the throat,” she said, her voice growing louder as she grappled with me. “Choke me if you’re going to!”

  “Will you fucking stop it?” I yelled at her, putting my hands in the air. “Get away from me!”

  “No!” She stood and kept grabbing at me, the boat rocking perilously, and finally I did as she asked and wrapped my hands around her neck or else she was going to tip us over. She dropped to her knees again at my feet, her fingers tight around my wrists, holding them to her.

  I felt sick inside. “Is this what you want? For me to hurt you?”


  “You won’t hurt me.” In contrast to my panicked yelling, she spoke quietly, if a little breathlessly, and in her eyes I saw no fear. “You won’t hurt me.”

  We paused there a moment, my fingers around her neck, both of us breathing hard. My heart pounded, my body coursing with adrenaline, and my hands shook. Desperately I battled the urge to count as I inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to calm my overwrought nervous system. But as the seconds ticked by and I did nothing violent, I realized she was right—I wasn’t going to harm her. My body relaxed, my breathing slowed.

  “There,” she said softly. “See?” She pulled my hands off her neck, and immediately I curled my fingers over the edge of the bench again. She scooted even closer to me. “Now tell me what to do so we can go back to what we were doing.”

  “There’s nothing you can do,” I said sourly. “It’s just the way I am.” I looked out across the water, unable to handle the hurt expression on her face. You fucking coward.

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “Well, it’s true.” I fucking hated myself, so I took it out on her, of course. “You think this is the first time this has happened to me? I know how this goes, Skylar.” I forced myself to look at her. I wanted the asshole in my head to see exactly what he was giving up. “We have sex because we like each other and we’re attracted to each other and we think that’s enough but then who we are isn’t really what the other person thinks we are, so nothing works out and a year later we end up disappointing each other and blaming ourselves for what we should have admitted in the first place—this shouldn’t happen.”

  She sat back, her butt on the boat’s bottom. “Holy shit, Sebastian.”

  “What?”

  “You’re killing me. I can’t even think where I’m going to live next week and you’re able to imagine exactly what would happen in a year if I give you a hand job in this rowboat.”

  She was going to give me a hand job. Fuck.

  “Is that what happened with your ex?”

  Running a hand over my hair, I exhaled. “Sort of.” The wind picked up, and I listened to the waves lap against the side of the boat for a moment. The sound calmed me. This isn’t that. Skylar isn’t Diana. “I’m sorry. I panic easily.”

  She nodded. “I’m beginning to see that.”

  Well, this was it. She was realizing how difficult I was, how frustrating it was to get close to me, and she’d abandon me because of it. It’s nothing I didn’t expect…it had happened plenty of times before with girls a lot less beautiful than Skylar. So her next words shocked me.

  “You know what we need? Some fried chicken. You’re coming to dinner at my parents’ house.”

  Nausea hit me. Strangers. A dinner table. A new situation. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Well, I do. And you’re going to come along and make it up to me for being a jerk just now when all I’m trying to do is have some fun.” She hugged her knees again, tilting her face to the sun. The light played with her hair, streaking it with silver and gold. It looked so soft and warm, and I wondered if I’d ever get another chance to run my hands through it.

  “What time is it?” she asked suddenly.

  I pulled my phone from my pocket. “Close to six.”

  “Dinner is at six-thirty, so we should think about heading back.”

  I frowned. “Skylar, I’m not entirely comfortable with this. It’s nothing against your family, I just don’t like situations where I don’t know anyone.”

  “You know me. And Natalie will be there with her boyfriend, Dan. You can meet him, and our older sister Jillian, and my parents too. They are perfectly nice people with clean dishes. And we don’t use sharp knives for fried chicken, so you don’t have to worry about stabbing anyone. But if you do, stab Dan. Natalie thinks he might be cheating on her.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  She lowered her chin and looked up at me. “Yes it is. You gotta lighten up a little, Sebastian. I’ll help you.” She leaned back on her hands and stretched her feet toward mine, batting one of my ankles with her toes. “Think how proud your therapist is going to be when you go in there next.”

  “He will be,” I admitted. “He told me I should talk to you.”

  “Oh? Why’s that?”

  I exhaled slowly, nervous to share this with her but feeling like I owed her something good. “Because the day I saw you at the beach, a lot of…feelings surfaced that triggered a relapse.”

  “What kind of feelings?”

  Fuck, this was embarrassing. “Old feelings. I used to…have a crush on you. In high school.”

  She beamed. “You did?”

  “Yeah. Along with every other guy there,” I said under my breath. “I had no chance.”

  “Stop.” She kicked me gently. “You never said anything about it.”

  “How could I? You were surrounded all the time. And I was so fucking awkward and shy.”

  “You were shy. You’re still shy. Sort of.”

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  She didn’t say anything for a minute or two, just stared out across the water. I was about to start rowing us back when she asked a question that surprised me.

  “Why me?”

  “Huh?”

  “Why did you have a crush on me? Was it because you thought I was pretty?”

  I had to think about if. Of course I thought she was pretty—everyone did. But that wasn’t all of it. “It wasn’t just your looks,” I said. “I was an observer back then, not really a participator, so I saw a lot of what went on without actually being involved. I saw that you were nice to everyone, that you didn’t bully or cut people down, that you went out of your way to smile and say nice things to people. I liked that you weren’t shy about raising your hand in class to admit you didn’t understand something. I liked that you sometimes asked me for help.” I paused to take a breath.

  “Wow. That’s like the most I’ve ever heard you say at one time.” Her smile lit up her face. “And I’m totally flattered.”

  That smile. It was like a drug—I wanted to say anything, do anything to keep it there. “So yes, Ken—that’s my therapist—told me that if talking to you was a fear, then I had to conquer it.”

  She met my eyes. “And you did.”

  “I did.”

  “So now,” she said, “you’re going to conquer fried chicken, potato salad, and cherry pie with the Nixon family.”

  Taking the oars in my hands, I shook my head. “You’re much bossier than you were back then.”

  “I’m not bossy,” she said indignantly. “I’m just good at seeing what needs to be done.” She grimaced. “Except when it comes to myself. Then I’m horrible.”

  I began rowing us back toward the dock. “I’ll help you. Maybe we can help each other.”

  Sixteen

  Skylar

  I watched Sebastian row us back toward the cabin, the muscles in his chest and arms working hard. Even though our brief romantic interlude had not gone exactly as I’d hoped, the conversation we’d had afterward felt good. Sincere. He seemed to be comfortable opening up to me, and I loved that—for most guys, it would be the other way around. They’d be all over the sex part, and then when you asked about their thoughts or feelings, they’d go silent. Sebastian had those silent moments too, and moments where he snapped, but I felt like I understood him better. He was just so hard on himself.

  Why can’t he be hard on me?

  Stifling a smile, I recalled how divine it had felt when he’d let himself relax for a few minutes with me on the bottom of the boat. I probably pushed it too quickly with the hand thing, but I couldn’t help myself—and he’d felt so good beneath his shorts. Thick and long and solid. Lust zinged between my legs and I pressed my thighs together.

  Damn. Sebastian needed time to work through whatever had his mind all jacked up when it came to touching me, and I wanted to be patient for him, but lord almighty I had some frustration to work off.

  I’d have to get my vibrato
r out tonight.

  The thought made me wonder what he did to relieve that kind of tension, and right away I pictured him naked, lying in that bed in the loft getting himself off, the muscles in his arms working hard, his abs flexed.

  Oh crap. I better look away from him right now.

  Maybe I’d get the vibrator out before dinner. The way I felt right now, it wouldn’t take more than a minute.

  I ended up not having time for a solo session because in order to make dinner on time, Sebastian had to get ready and drive back to the farm with me since I didn’t have my own car. While he cleaned up, I sat outside on a chair he’d put together and tried very hard not to think about him in the shower.

  OK, somewhat hard.

  After about fifteen minutes, he came out to the patio dressed in khaki pants and a fitted navy blue button-down with the sleeves cuffed up.“This OK?”

  “Of course. You look great.”

  “I didn’t have time to shave.” He rubbed his chin. “Sorry.”

  “Stop it. I like the scruff. And we are very casual, I promise. I texted my mom that I was bringing a friend to dinner, and she was delighted. But we better hurry so I have time to change.”

  We pulled up between the big house and my guest house right at six thirty. Sebastian waited in the living room while I stealthily scooped a clean pair of panties from a drawer and flipped through casual dresses I had hanging on a rack beneath some corner shelves.

  “That your closet? Very clever,” he said.

  “Gotta make use of every inch of space in a place this small. OK, I’ll be right out.” I grabbed a flowy little dress with cami straps and a deep V neckline and ducked into the bathroom. Tossing my shorts, panties, socks and t-shirt in the hamper, I threw my hair up in a clip and quickly showered, then slipped on the new panties and the dress. Crap, was it too sexy? The neckline was low and I didn’t wear a bra with this dress, but the dress wasn’t tight or short, and the pretty floral pattern gave it a touch of innocence. I put on some deodorant, fluffed out my hair, and added a dab of perfume behind each ear. A quick swipe of pink lip gloss was the only makeup I had time for.