Page 80 of One Wrong Move

But with another tug of her hand on my hair, those intentions fracture, too. She pulls me down the hall until I have her pinned against the wall, our lips never breaking contact.

I want to know what she likes. I want to know what her skin tastes like, so I tip her head back and slide my lips along her jaw. Down to the soft skin of her neck.

A soft exhale escapes her, and it sends another wave of desire racing through me. I’m so painfully hard against the metal buckle of my belt, I feel like my dick is going to explode at any moment. It doesn’t matter, though. Not with Harper in my arms.

“Nate,” she whispers as she once again rakes her nails over my scalp.

Fuck.

I bite lightly on her shoulder and shudder at the sensation that evoked. Harper giggles, and I kiss the spot where my teeth grazed her. Kiss up the soft column of her throat, making her giggles turn into another soft sigh.

“Nate,” she whispers again. “Is… is… Lucy still here?”

“No,” I mutter. “She left.”

Harper swallows. I feel it against my lips, pressed to her throat. “Good. Willard isn’t here anymore, either. I sent him home.”

My hand tightens around her waist. “Good girl.”

A shiver passes through her, and then, she pulls my face down for another kiss. One turns into several, until she’s once again pinned to the wall by my starving body. Her right hand slides into the collar of my shirt, fingers brushing my heated skin. Her touch feels cool compared to the fever raging inside me.

The crash of breaking glass makes us both flinch. It’s loud and nearby, and is immediately followed by raised voices. The kitchen. The stragglers.

We pull apart, both of us breathing heavily.

“That didn’t sound good,” she whispers.

I let go of the curls I’d been holding on to. “No. It didn’t.”

She swallows hard and lets her hands drop, too. Once again, we’re just two people standing far too close in a dark hallway.

“I should check on that,” I say.

The corners of her mouth lift into a smile, and I can’t help but notice her kiss-swollen lips and the thundering of my heart.

“Good idea,” she murmurs. “Don’t let them wreck the kitchen I’ve come to love, please.”

I take a step back. It physically hurts to distance myself from her, to try to calm the pounding need inside me. “Of course not. It’s yours.”

She smiles a little and backs up toward the staircase. Heading to her room. That smile on her lips, I’ll remember forever.

“Good night, Connovan,” she says.

“Good night, Harp.”

Harper

“So you haven’t spoken since last night,” Richard says. He sounds contemplative, his gaze stays on Stanley rolling in the green spring grass, his British accent crisp.

“No, I was out most of the day, and he had a meeting that he took from his home office.” I stroke my hands over Quincy’s soft, floppy ears. The cute bugger was content with running around for all of fifteen minutes before wanting to be picked up, and he now sits between Richard and me on the park bench.

“Right. Interesting,” Richard says. Despite the warmth, he’s in a blazer and a necktie, although his usual flat cap has been exchanged for one with a longer brim to shade from the sunlight. “And now you’re avoiding the chap by talking to me.”

I chuckle. “I’m having a great time.”

“No need to flatter an old man,” he says, but his voice is soothing. “This is somewhat of a conundrum, I suppose. Your feelings are clearly divided on the matter.”

“Yes. I don’t regret it, but it’s not something that should happen again.”

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