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Chapter 175

Dream a dream, here's a scene
Touch me anywhere 'cause I'm your baby
Grab my waist, don't waste any part
I believe that you see me for who I am
So spill my clothes on the floor of your new car
Is it safe, is it safe to just be who we are?

— Lana Del Rey, Love Song

. . . .

I'm lying in bed when Harry gets out of the shower. He has his towel tied around his waist and water dripping down from his hair onto his muscular shoulders. He looks quite refreshed in several different ways.

"Get everything taken care of?" I ask him, flipping the page in the book I'm reading.

"Yeah, especially after you left."

"Well, I wasn't allowed to help," I rebuttal.

"No, you weren't," he replies, drying off his thighs and legs before hiking some boxers up his legs. "Not until tomorrow."

"Well, what about—?"

"—Any time after nine in the morning tomorrow. One minute past midnight isn't allowed!" he interrupts me, carrying his towel into the bathroom to hang up.

"Whatever."

"I see Horny Violet's suppressed her cravings."

"Not entirely. I'm still quite riled up, but after about the fiftieth attempt, I realized that I wasn't getting any tonight."

"No, you won't be, unless it's by yourself."

"Like you?" I question him knowingly.

He drops his face in false confusion, replying, "I have no clue what you're referring to."

"I saw that arm going when I pulled the curtain back," I reply. "And, I know, but can't confirm, that whilst you were covering yourself up, your hand was moving then, too."

"No further comment."

He lies down in front of me, his body positioned between my legs under the blanket. He rests his head on my right thigh, staring at me with his beautiful eyes. I can barely get through the rest of the paragraph I'm on without the strong gaze he holds on me distracting me.

"Yes?"

"You're so pretty," he compliments, his left arm moving forward to wrap his fingers around mine.

"Get that hand away from me! I know what it was doing ten minutes ago," I tease him and pull my book to my chest.

"I jerk off with my right hand—not my left."

"Lovely."

"Don't be all high and mighty. I know you do it, too," he says in response, a know-it-all smirk on his stupidly cute face. "I recall the current and past sexts we've shared."

"I have to, especially when you won't have sex with me."

"You make it sound like having sex with you is a chore."

"Oh, I know it's not a chore," I respond with a clever tone. "More of a passion."

"It's definitely the latter."

George jumps up, stepping on the back of Harry's leg and walking to put his head between us to give him some attention. The dog lies down, but that doesn't mean he stops accepting the scratches and affection. I hold George's left paw in my hand and reach it towards Harry's head to pet over the front part of his wet hair. 

"My boys," I say softly. "All we need is Gunther and it's complete."

"He's not that keen on car trips much anymore. We took him with us to the beach a few years ago, and he puked in his carrier...three times."