Page 64 of True North

“Har—”

“You need to tell me what’s goin’ on in that head of yours.”

I huff a shaky breath and briefly close my eyes, letting my hands wander over his broad shoulders enroute to his neck, arriving among the damp, dark locks that will always steal my breath. “It’s nothing, I just...”

Drawn-down brows rest against my forehead.

“Spit it out, Lou.”

My hands tingle.

God, please no, not now.

My chest tightens.

As if reading my body better than I do, his thumbs caress my cheeks. “Breathe, Louisa May. I got you. Ain’t gonna let a damn thing hurt you ever again.”

I suck in air, fighting off the emotion that’s clawing at my insides. I’m trying to tell him what he means to me. I don’t understand why my stupid body is having a moment. At all.

I swallow back the remnants of flailing negative thoughts that are no use to me at this moment.

“Us.”

“What about us?” he rasps.

“It’s too much,” I whisper, cupping his face with my hands, “and not enough, all at once. I can?—”

His mouth crashes over mine.

I let him devour the last word for a moment, then my brain catches up. I need to say this.

“I can’t control myself around you. I have no control of this. It’s autonomous.”

He raises a brow. “Smaller words, darlin’, the blood is nowhere near my head right now.”

I chuckle and it turns into a breaking, happy sob. “This thing between us, it’s like an invisible force. I can’t see it. But hell, Harry, I feel it. I feeleverything.”

“Same. I ain’t goin’ to question it. Not this time ’round.”

I pull his mouth to my own. He opens, and I am taking what my heart wants, finding out what I missed for so long. I settle on his lap, knees digging into the grass. The ridge in his jeans is bliss against my aching core. He leans back, snapping up a nipple in his mouth. I arch into him, still not close enough. Palming my ribs, he runs a finger under one breast.

“Please...” I whimper.

I’m off his waist and lying on the grass a second later. His cool, damp hair tickles my stomach as he shuffles backward between my legs. Big hands push my thighs wider. I palm my breasts, needing sensation everywhere.

“Sweet Jesus, Lou,” is all I hear before his tongue runs the length of my wet center.

I’m up off the grass, hands in his hair, instantly. His mouth works my soaked pussy like he’s been doing it his whole life. His gorgeous hair is silk between my fingers. The fire he’s building with every lick, every suckle is going to burn me alive.

“Harry, plea—Oh God!”

He takes a long, languid draw on my clit, and I spiral.

Two rough fingers plummet inside me. I clench around them as the ache becomes too much.

“I’ve waited a decade for this sweet pussy, Louisa. And, fuck, it was worth every godforsaken lonely day I went without you. But now, I wanna see that beautiful face of yours fall apart.”

Short pants leave my lips as his mouth finds my clit, lips tugging before his tongue swirls around it. I cry out as the spiral escalates, sending pure bliss imploding through my core, every inch of me trembling. Harry’s deep blues watching me is too much. I come hard and fast. Tears burn and fall. I choke on the useless air lancing through my lungs.

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