Harry
Judge Merlow’s wife Veronica had screamed at Harry for thirty minutes before her husband stepped in. He must have seen the look on Harry’s face and took mercy on him. Delivering that kind of news never got easier. After five minutes of stalling he finally told the Merlows their daughter had been murdered but they still needed to come and identify the body.
Harry hadn’t recognized Heidi at the crime scene or at the party for Brayden. The only time he’d seen her was a photograph on the judge’s desk. He’d never met her in person. However, when he had arrived at the Merlow’s and the judge led him into the living room, he couldn’t deny the picture of Heidi sitting on the mantel.
Natalie left the porch light on for him like she’d said. Every other lamp or fixture had been shut off. He stumbled around the living room searching for the table lamp next to the couch. His toe hit the leg of the chair. “Sonofa—” Every damn time.
He switched on the light, sat in the chair, and slipped his boots off. His big toe throbbed.
“Harry?” Natalie said in a small voice.
“Yeah, it’s me.” She was dressed in a pink nightshirt, one he hadn’t seen before. He wondered if she wore panties underneath. “Come here, you.”
Natalie came around the chair, straddled his legs, and sat down on his lap. Her hands went to his shoulders.
“What’s come over you?” he asked.
“Missed you and figured you’d want to forget.”
Without another word, she fused their lips together. She pulled her head back. “This doesn’t mean I’m not still mad at you for the other night.”
“Uh huh,” Harry breathed through his mouth.
“Sometimes I feel we can’t ever have a pleasant meal together.”
They had plenty of nice meals, didn’t they? Okay, his drive home from the prison ruined her birthday a few weeks ago, and come to think of it, he’d been in the bathroom when the check came at Cocoa’s. Not only had the food she prepared gone to waste, she paid for their dinner out. Nice. “Sorry.”
“I know you are.”
Harry wanted to tell her he’d make it up to her soon, except he wasn’t sure when with a murderer or murderers out there.
Her tongue slipped past his lips. He kissed her in return. She went for the fly of his pants, undoing the belt buckle first. The metal jangled. Harry unzipped and freed himself.
They both gasped as he penetrated her.
“Oh, Nat…”
“Oh, Harry…” she breathed half serious, half teasing.
He squeezed her waist, tickling her sides.
Natalie tossed her head back and giggled. When they were together like this it was if they were teenagers. He was captain of the football team again, and she was the tomboyish nerd with a feminine side. The one girl no one expected looked fantastic in a dress.
Annie had been his high school sweetheart. Would he ever get over her death?
He took Natalie’s face between his palms and gazed into her eyes. They were blue like his, only a brighter shade. His lids lowered to half-mast and her red, swollen lips parted. She worked his body, bringing him closer to orgasm. So close he forgot everything and only knew the sounds and sensations of his breaths sawing in and out of him. He cranked her head down and smashed his lips to hers, more roughly than normal. He may have growled a bit, or imagined he had. She matched his ferocity.
Harry broke contact with her mouth and called out her name.
They came at the same time and ended hugging each other tightly. She rested her cheek on his shoulder.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Harry loved her. And even though he had never said it back, she didn’t make him feel guilty for not. Like she knew what he feared, that Annie would no longer exist. He was aware of how irrational that sounded.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.
“I know, and I know you love me in your own way.”
Ouch. He didn’t just love her in his own way. He flat out loved her in every way. So what was his problem? Ridiculously enough, he considered asking Brayden, an eleven year old, for advice.