Page 32 of Unwanted
I sank my fingers into his thick hair and gave it a tug. He lifted his face from my neck and his eyes locked on mine. His pupils were dilated, his jaw clenched, the restraint in his expression almost pained as his practised movements continued to drive me further towards spiralling out of control.
“Not without you, Harry,” I said in a hoarse whisper through my tight throat. “Let go. Come with me.” That was when his movements became more desperate, less rehearsed. He ripped my knickers down my legs, then pulled away to undo his jeans. It took him a few extra seconds as his hands were actually shaking. He swore under his breath, but my heart soared at the loss of control. Finally, I had the real Harry, the one I knew. Then he was on top of me again, all finesse and control out of the window. A deep growl shuddered through his chest as he filled me so deep and hard and in such a sudden movement that it knocked the breath out of me for a moment.
“Verity, shit,” he said as he looked down at me. “Baby, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
I shifted under him, so much desire and desperation clawing through my veins that I felt like I was coming out of my skin. “I will be if youmove,” I snapped. The muscles of his throat pulled tight as he pulled back and filled me again, harder this time. But as he settled into a rhythm I could sense the restraint creeping back in, the practised moves hitting all the right places coming into play and I was building towards the edge again. But I wanted the old Harry, the uncontrolled one. I leaned up to whisper in his ear.
“Let go with me,” I whispered through my sharp intakes of breath as he thrust into me. My hands dug into the muscles on his back, and I let out another moan. “Fuck me, Harry. Let go.” I bit his ear and that seemed to trigger a complete breakdown of smooth-move Harry. His now jerky, abrupt, powerful thrusts finally drove me over the edge as he followed me with a shout.
We were both breathing hard as he let his weight collapse onto me for a moment before lifting himself up on his elbows. He scanned my face, his expression concerned.
“Christ, Verity. You good? I was rough.” I smiled in answer and his expression flooded with relief. He moved to kiss my mouth then all the way across my cheek to my ear and gave it a light bite of his own, moving inside me again and causing me to let out another low moan. “We didn’t even make it to the bedroom.” Harry was smiling down at me now.
“I think a sofa is appropriate,” I said. “That’s where I always imagined this after all.”
His eyebrows went up. “You imaginedthis, did you?”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay I imagined a slightly more PG-13 version of this. But it always involved a sofa. And maybe you had a few more curls and a little less muscle – not that I’m complaining – but it was always you, Harry.”
He searched my face, an almost reverent expression on his, as though he almost couldn’t believe I was real or that I was here with him.
“Bedroom,” he whispered against my mouth, and I nodded in response, incapable of speech at that point. Then he shocked me again by pulling up from the sofa with me in his arms and striding like that back into the corridor.
Now, stairs in these tiny cottages are narrow and steep. They are not meant for large men to carry adult women up them. In fact, cottages are not meant for large men full stop. After the banister had clipped my shoulder and Harry had hit his head twice on the low ceiling so that he had to deposit me on the stairs with him hovering over me, both naked, we descended into a fit of giggles.
My hands went up to frame his open, laughing face and I whispered. “I love making you laugh. I always loved it. You’re beautiful too, you know.”
His expression sobered and he searched my face for a moment before he went in for another kiss. This time more urgent. When we broke apart, he was breathing heavily again. “Let’s get off these fucking stairs,” his voice was rough now with an edge of growl to it that I felt all the way to my toes.
* * *
“Hey.”
I turned from the AGA to see a gorgeously rumpled Harry standing in my kitchen doorway. His normally perfectly styled dark hair was sticking up on one side and his jaw was covered in thick stubble. He had his jeans on but was barefoot and bare-chested. I felt my mouth water and looked back at the bacon I was frying so that he couldn’t see me openly drool.
“Hey, yourself,” I said, smiling at the bacon.
He sauntered in behind me and one of his muscled arms came around my waist, pulling me back into his bare chest, the other lifted the weight of my hair over my shoulder so he could kiss my neck. I shivered and I felt him smile against my skin.
“You left me in bed,” he said, his voice a sleepy growl.
“You were sleeping.”
In one swift movement he snatched the spatula I was using on the bacon away from me, putting it down on the wooden surface next to the AGA and then turned me in his arms so I was facing him.
“Harry!” I protested. “I was–”
He cut off whatever I was going to say with a kiss, and, like always I melted against him.
Memories of last night tore through my brain: uber-masculine Harry in my feminine bedroom, his weight pressing me into my soft duvet; him holding me up in the shower with one arm underneath me as the other pushed against the tiles of the wall, then whispering against my wet skin after we were finished with round two, “I like your bed, but this shower is not big enough, darling.” I’d smiled and nodded, so drugged on him that I would have agreed to a full house remodel without blinking an eye. Then again back on the bed, but this time less frenzied with Harry staring at me as he stroked the damp hair back from my face almost reverently, like he was trying to memorise every expression I made, like I was the centre of his universe.
When he ended the kiss, I blinked up at him and that smug smile was back on his face again.
“That’s how I want to wake up when I sleep with you,” he said. “Got it?” He gave me a small squeeze to emphasize his point, and I narrowed my eyes at him.
“You’ve become very bossy, Harry York.”
He shrugged, completely unrepentant still smiling down at me. The smell of burning jerked me back to reality and I let out a muffled squeak and turned back to the pan.
