the shower dripping wet.
We dry off each other and continue to share soft, sensual kisses. Our affectionate gestures extend to the bedroom where I search for something to wear for the day. I’m unable to get dressed because he keeps trying to pull off my panties and t-shirt as I put them on. At last, I escape his hold and head downstairs with my hair wrapped in a towel.
I sit in my favorite chair staring at the restless ocean. He walks toward me wearing nothing but a pair of jeans. I lick my lips as his broad shoulders and sculpted stomach entice me with every step.
He closes in behind me and caresses my shoulders with the tips of his strong fingers.
“I’ve missed these magic hands,” I say.
He places his soft, wet lips on the back of my neck and trails up and down a few times. His hot breath sends chills down my spine as I reach behind me and wrap my arms around his waist.
I look upward then lower him to my lips and I feel his strong biceps brush against my breasts.
My breath leaves my body and my pulse begins to race when I hear these words:
“You know I’m not really here, right?”
CHAPTER FIVE
I blink my eyes hard. I open them and Harley is nowhere to be found. I get up and look around, everywhere. It’s as if he has disappeared into thin air. But he was here. I felt him. I spoke to him. None of it makes sense.
I’m standing in the living room when he reappears in the doorway. His blue eyes sparkle as always, but something looks different about him.
“I know this must be confusing for you. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish I could take this pain from you.”
“There you are.” My voice is light, playful, relieved. “What are you talking about? You’re here. You’re home. Everything’s great.”
“No, I’m not.” His voice is soft and laced with sadness.
“Then what the hell is going on? I felt you. We just made love.”
“Not really. You thought we made love. But that’s not possible.”
“What is that supposed to mean? I’m not crazy!”
“Let me explain this as best I can.” His words are hesitant and almost apologetic. “I died in combat. But we had such a powerful connection, it hasn’t … you haven’t allowed me to move on to the next phase in my life … or ‘afterlife’ I should say.”
“What? No, that was just a bad dream I was having. That whole conversation was part of the dream.”
“I’m afraid you’ve got it all mixed up, sweetheart. See, you’re an incredible writer. When you can’t deal with your emotions, you pour yourself into your writing. I’ve always loved that about you, because you’ve never needed alcohol, or drugs, or any other vice to deal with life. But, you’ve gone to such a dark place, that you can no longer distinguish between reality and fantasy. It’s like you’ve created a whole other existence for yourself to cope with losing me, a whole new world to live in. That’s what I meant by you being stuck … and me as well.”
“This is crazy! I can see you. I can touch you. I can touch this sofa, this door, this lamp. All of this is real!” I walk around the room like a crazy person touching each piece of furniture.
“ Real is a term relative to your perception. Whatever you write, you believe. Whatever you write happens in your world.”
I lower my body to the sofa with my face buried in my hands, as I try to make sense of everything, or make it go away.
Finally, I sit up and say, “You said that before, but if this is the only way I can have you, then this is the world I want to stay in.”
“I wish it were that simple, love. But it’s not. Either you will continue slipping further and further into this dark world, which eventually ends in … death…” He swallows hard, barely able to make out the word, then continues. “Or, you will snap out of it, find a way to let me go, and move on without me.”
“Like I told you, if you die of your own demise, we can never be together again. You will be sent
We dry off each other and continue to share soft, sensual kisses. Our affectionate gestures extend to the bedroom where I search for something to wear for the day. I’m unable to get dressed because he keeps trying to pull off my panties and t-shirt as I put them on. At last, I escape his hold and head downstairs with my hair wrapped in a towel.
I sit in my favorite chair staring at the restless ocean. He walks toward me wearing nothing but a pair of jeans. I lick my lips as his broad shoulders and sculpted stomach entice me with every step.
He closes in behind me and caresses my shoulders with the tips of his strong fingers.
“I’ve missed these magic hands,” I say.
He places his soft, wet lips on the back of my neck and trails up and down a few times. His hot breath sends chills down my spine as I reach behind me and wrap my arms around his waist.
I look upward then lower him to my lips and I feel his strong biceps brush against my breasts.
My breath leaves my body and my pulse begins to race when I hear these words:
“You know I’m not really here, right?”
CHAPTER FIVE
I blink my eyes hard. I open them and Harley is nowhere to be found. I get up and look around, everywhere. It’s as if he has disappeared into thin air. But he was here. I felt him. I spoke to him. None of it makes sense.
I’m standing in the living room when he reappears in the doorway. His blue eyes sparkle as always, but something looks different about him.
“I know this must be confusing for you. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish I could take this pain from you.”
“There you are.” My voice is light, playful, relieved. “What are you talking about? You’re here. You’re home. Everything’s great.”
“No, I’m not.” His voice is soft and laced with sadness.
“Then what the hell is going on? I felt you. We just made love.”
“Not really. You thought we made love. But that’s not possible.”
“What is that supposed to mean? I’m not crazy!”
“Let me explain this as best I can.” His words are hesitant and almost apologetic. “I died in combat. But we had such a powerful connection, it hasn’t … you haven’t allowed me to move on to the next phase in my life … or ‘afterlife’ I should say.”
“What? No, that was just a bad dream I was having. That whole conversation was part of the dream.”
“I’m afraid you’ve got it all mixed up, sweetheart. See, you’re an incredible writer. When you can’t deal with your emotions, you pour yourself into your writing. I’ve always loved that about you, because you’ve never needed alcohol, or drugs, or any other vice to deal with life. But, you’ve gone to such a dark place, that you can no longer distinguish between reality and fantasy. It’s like you’ve created a whole other existence for yourself to cope with losing me, a whole new world to live in. That’s what I meant by you being stuck … and me as well.”
“This is crazy! I can see you. I can touch you. I can touch this sofa, this door, this lamp. All of this is real!” I walk around the room like a crazy person touching each piece of furniture.
“ Real is a term relative to your perception. Whatever you write, you believe. Whatever you write happens in your world.”
I lower my body to the sofa with my face buried in my hands, as I try to make sense of everything, or make it go away.
Finally, I sit up and say, “You said that before, but if this is the only way I can have you, then this is the world I want to stay in.”
“I wish it were that simple, love. But it’s not. Either you will continue slipping further and further into this dark world, which eventually ends in … death…” He swallows hard, barely able to make out the word, then continues. “Or, you will snap out of it, find a way to let me go, and move on without me.”
“Like I told you, if you die of your own demise, we can never be together again. You will be sent
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