Page 54 of The Heartstrings of Harry
His fingers dug into my muscled thigh, as though he wanted to claw my jeans off then and there.
I was in shock.
I was confused.
I took his jaw in my hand and pulled him out of the kiss, my eyes wide and staring into his baby blues as I uttered, “What’s happening right now?”
“You tell me,” he whispered back. “Didn’tyoukissme? Why did you kiss me?”
“Because… I couldn’t hold back a second longer. I’ve wanted to kiss you for years.”
He smiled. “I’ve wanted to kissyoufor years. Couldn’t you tell? Wasn’t it obvious? Harry,you’rethe hammer of my heart. You always have been. I just never thought you’d feel the same way.”
I laughed and let out a long, quivering sigh of relief. “I never thought you’d feel the same way either. But I guess you do.”
He laughed too. “IknowI do.”
We pressed our lips together once again.
This time our hands got busy as well.
The hand he had on my thigh slid between my legs. His other hand reached for the back of my head, holding me in position so there was no way of pulling out of that kiss until he let me.
Meanwhile, I placed one hand on his bare back, my large hand sprawling across his muscles, fingers spreadeagled, feeling the rise and fall of his breath that trembled throughout his whole body. With my other hand, I dared to touch his towel, to let my hand rest against his thigh and slowly inch my way toward his crotch.
He groaned through our kiss and breathed into my mouth, “I want you to touch me. I want you to take me. I want you inside me so bad.”
My heartbeat quickened and air moved rapidly in and out through my nose.
He pressed my face harder against his, pushed his tongue farther down my throat like he wanted to choke me, devour me, consume me whole.
And I wanted him to.
It was permission enough for me to slide my hand beneath the towel, my rough fingers gliding over the smooth skin of his thigh until—
He gave a loud guttural groan as I found his hot hard cock.
I took it in my grip, squeezing it hard and he broke away from our kiss, threw his head back and cried out, “Oh fuck! Harry!”
Before I knew it, he had flung himself onto his back on the bed.
The towel was nothing but a tangled hindrance now.
I grabbed a corner of it and yanked it off him, hurling it across the room.
As it flapped to the floor, I stared down at the completely hard, naked, beautiful body splayed on the bed before me.
Dean ran his hands through his messy blond hair and gazed at me, grinning from ear to ear, nervous yet thrilled, his chest heaving, his legs spread wide, his perfect young cock long and hard and resting against his quivering abs, reaching all the way up to his navel.
“God, your gorgeous,” I breathed.
I wanted to touch him, I wanted to take him, just like he begged me to. But first, I just wanted to stare, to drink him in, to tell myself over and over again—no Harry, you’re not dreaming. This is actually happening. This isfinallyhappening.
I stood from the bed.
I took the hem of my T-shirt in my hands and lifted it over my head, tossing it to the floor.
I pulled off my boots and socks, not losing eye contact with Dean for a single second as his cock flinched and slapped against his stomach, veins straining.
