Page 72 of Tamed By You

“Ti voglio in ginocchio per me,” he says, again with ease.

“Do I want to know what that means?” I say flatly.

Moving closer, his lips brushing my ear he whispers, “I want you on your knees for me.” I shiver in excitement.

“Why am I not surprised that these are the phrases that you know?”

“I heard foreign languages get the ladies going, so I learned a few phrases that would come in handy.”

“Is that right?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow.

“You tell me, Ali Cat, are you nice and wet for me?” He winks, his tongue running along his bottom lip and I watch it, completely hypnotized, knowing just how good that tongue feels.

I shake my head, laughing. “Okay, okay, last one. Say something in French.”

Silence falls between us as he cups my face with his large hands, brushing his nose against mine, his hot breath fanning against my skin. I take in a sharp inhale as the pad of his thumb dusts over my bottom lip and just when I think he won’t say anything and maybe he’ll kiss me, he says softly, “Je pense que je tombe amoureux de toi.”

“What does that mean?”

“Ask me again when we’re back in New York, and if you still want the answer, I’ll tell you.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Ali

“So, when you get to me, you need to jump a little,” Harry explains, bending his knees and then jumping slightly.

“I did that, and I nearly broke your nose.”

“Yeah, well, you're not supposed to charge at me like a bull to a red flag, Alice,” he deadpans.

I’ve noticed he only calls me Alice when he’s annoyed. I snort a laugh. We've watched chick flicks all afternoon and played cards. It’s been a rainy day in London, so we decided on a movie marathon and ordered in. I really am living my best life in leggings and an oversized white t-shirt, eating my body weight in food. Harry is wearing his gray sweatpants and only gray sweatpants. Watching his muscles flex all afternoon has been the day's highlight.

We agreed on a movie that wouldn't have Harry reaching for the tissues again, so we settled onMean Girls, Grease, Coyote Ugly,and thenDirty Dancing,and for the past twenty minutes we've been trying to do the lift from the end scene. When I commented that he wouldn't be able to lift me like that he saw it as a challenge, one he wasn't going to pass up.

“I just don't think you can do it. You’re not gripping my hips right.”

“Ali, I’ve fought in two wars, carried Mason’s ass up a mountain in forty-degree heat when he broke his leg, and I got you into bed. I don't give up easily. We are doing this.”

I fold my arms. “Excuse me, are you saying I was a challenge for you?”

With his panty-dropping grin he says, “My biggest one yet, babe, but damn worth it.” he winks.

I roll my eyes and smile, my cheeks heating at his comment. With every day that passes, I feel myself softening, living for his cheeky lines and compliments because they make me feel something I haven’t felt before and I’m still trying to figure out what it is.

“We can do this.” He claps, squatting slightly. “Come at me.”

I start to run and then freeze. “I’m scared,” I admit, my hands flying to cover my face. “I nearly ended up in the damn TV a minute ago. You lifted me too high.”

“You were flapping your arms around like a bird trying to take flight, keep them in front of you, and straight. No flapping.”

“I did not flap,” I argue, sounding like a petulant child.

“You did. Now, let’s go.”

I turn back around to my starting position.

“Now I’ll count you in. When I sing the line, ‘and I owe it all to you’, you need to start running on the owe, got it?”

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