A/N: This little Harry-and-Erica vignette came from the larger piece entitled That May Be All I Need. That fic did not survive, but it birthed some shorter stories which I've been trying to resurrect and post.
While the main focus of my writing these days is Richobel (Dr. Richard Clarkson x Isobel Crawley; Downton Abbey), Harrica were the ship that turned me on to the concept of late-in-life-love. They will always be precious to me!
If you read, would you be so good as to review? Thank you ever so much!
DISCLAIMER: No matter how I may wish it were so, I don't own Erica Barry or Harry Sanborn. They were given life by Nancy Meyers, Diane Keaton and Jack Nicholson. I'm just their biggest fan!
... And in their kitchen on this early summer afternoon, Harry and Erica Sanborn move into one another's arms while Johnny Hartman croons about looking into the face of real love amidst a world full of imposters. It's a beautiful song; the embodiment of the sexy slow dance, and it has become their anthem.
Harry's got one arm wrapped around Erica's waist while the other hand clasps hers. Erica presses her ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat while her free hand fiddles with the collar of his shirt. She thinks about how good he feels: solid, safe, masculine, warm, enticing. He thinks about how she fits so perfectly against him, about the taste of her skin, the curve of her bottom, the way she easily becomes so completely undone in his arms.
As they move with the music, Harry frees his hand from Erica's grasp to lift her chin so that he can look into those heartbreaking blue eyes. She touches her fingers to his lips and he kisses them, sucking the tip of her index finger into his mouth, knowing what her response will be.
He's right; she moans, and he brushes his lips against hers. They kiss thoroughly, and it's at once as if they've never done this before and yet as familiar as breathing. Harry cradles her face in his hands; Erica slides her fingers beneath his shirt and touches bare skin - his ribs, his chest. He always feels hot to the touch. Not feverish, hot. Like he's so full of passion for her that it threatens to burn him up. Or her. It's wordless kissing, I-want-more kissing, as they sway to the music.
The song ends eventually, pulling them from their reverie. Harry surprises Erica with, "I don't want to let go, do you?" It sounds like something she would say and he would tease her about.
"Okay, time for me to turn tables on you. 'Have you always been like this or do I bring it out in you?'" She smiles playfully, her arms still loosely around him at hip level.
"No, honey, I'm serious. It's a lot we've been through in the space of a day. I ... I want to keep you close, that's all."