Page 74 of Tourist Season
“I can take more,” I whisper when he breaks away to press a line of kisses and gentle bites up my chest and onto my neck.
“I know you can. And you will. I have plans for you.” One swift bite clamps down on my neck, and though I whimper with need, he lets go. I know it’s a promise, one meant for another time. “But not today.”
His arms fold around me, his eyes not leaving mine as he lays me down. Every motion is gentle. Careful. As though I’m not someone to harm, but someone to cherish.
“Do you remember what I told you?” he asks as one of his calloused palms lands on my thigh, traveling up my skin with agonizing slowness. He traces a line to my clit, swirling slowly over the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“That I was a brat?” I snicker as a low growl rumbles in his chest. He gives my clit a pinch before resuming a gentle caress. Antagonizing Nolan in any form possible has become my favorite game. “Yeah, I remember that pretty clearly.”
“No,” he says, drawing the word out like a warning. Again, his expression becomes serious as he tugs his gray sweatpants over his hips and kicks them off. “I said the next time I fucked you, I was going to claim you.”
He lines his erection up to my pussy, notching the head at my entrance but not pushing deeper. “Claim me?” I whisper as he keeps his touch on my clit and his cock at my center. “What does that mean?”
Nolan’s brow furrows as his gaze travels over my skin, leaving a trail of heat behind. “It means I promised I would hunt you until the end of time. And what I get at the end of that hunt might change, but one thing remains the same. You’remine, Harper. I’ll never let anyone take you from me. Not some asshole like McMillan. Not Sam Porter. Not even the sea.”
I swallow, feeling like I’m running to the edge of another cliff. “What if I don’t want to belong to anyone but myself?”
“You don’t understand.” He pushes just a little deeper, but not enough. He knows I need more. “You can do what you want. Run and hide. Stay and fight. Love me or hate me—it doesn’t matter. It’s not going to change a fucking thing for me.”
I should be terrified. He stares right into me as he makes his vow. And it could be deadly. All I have to go on is trust. Trust inmy instincts. Trust in him. But maybe that’s part of the thrill. This man who would have scoured every corner of the world to kill me will tear it apart to save me.
I lay both hands on his face and draw him closer. “Prove you mean every word.”
With just a breath of time, the world reduces to my room. My bed. This man and me. He slides into me, filling me slowly, my body stretching around his girth until I don’t know where he ends and I begin. And his eyes are on me the whole time. It isn’t until he’s as deep as he can go that he finally slants his lips to mine.
This isn’t the vicious torrent of anger. Or the bite of desire. This is longing. Every kiss is slow. Every touch is purposeful. Every part of me aches as he glides in slow strokes within me. Even the parts he can’t see or taste or feel. When he threads his fingers with mine and holds my hand tight, there’s a twinge of pain, but it blooms deep in my chest. It takes root in a place that’s been dark for so long that it burns as it’s touched by light.
I map every muscle of his back. I trace every scar. The softness of his skin, the hardness of bone. I consume every inch of his flesh with my touch. Sandalwood and cedar flood every breath I take. I’m drowning. Drowning in his scent and his touch and his kiss. In his promises.
The rhythm of his slow thrusts grows stronger. I hook one leg over his back and he grabs my thigh, his fingers pressing into my flesh but his touch is still gentle, reverential. He breaks from my lips to layer kisses across my jaw, down my throat. A soft bite lands on my pulse. When I moan with the need for more, I can feel his smile in the kiss that lingers on my neck.
“I’ll make it hurt next time, if that’s what you want,” he whispers into my ear in a decadent vow. I shudder at the thought, mycore clenching with immediate need. “But this time, you’re going to be my good girl and take it sweet.”
Something seems hidden beneath his words. I tilt my head and force him to meet my eyes. “Why?”
Nolan sweeps the hair away from my face. His thrusts slow to a halt. A crease flickers between his brows as his eyes linger on the sweat gathering at my hairline. When they return to mine, that fissure of darkness seems to glow against the green. “I need to know I can have you without destroying you.”
My lungs trap a breath beneath my bones. It takes a long moment before I can let it go. “I trust you,” I finally say. I run my fingers through his damp hair. Press my palms harder to his back. “I mean it.”
I draw him down into my kiss. I show him that I mean every word. It could be reckless. Dangerous. Deadly. But that’s the price I’m willing to pay to feel alive.
Our kiss doesn’t break as Nolan’s cadence of thrusts resumes, gliding with rocking strokes. Every touch feels reverential, from the caress of his tongue across mine to the way his thumb traces a pattern across my thigh. I map his scars, committing each one to memory. When I trace the one down the back of his neck, he shudders. For a moment, I think I’ve made a mistake, bringing him back to a memory he thinks he has of me when a quiet growl rumbles in his chest. But the longing in his kiss only deepens. His fingers caress my cheek. His strokes grow more powerful. I do it again and he breaks the kiss just long enough to whisper my name. My heart feels like it’s shedding a layer of ice, thawing beneath his warmth.
He keeps hold of my leg and raises my ass from the bed, angling my hips to take him even deeper. His pace grows stronger. Moreurgent. I whimper as he pistons into me, every muscle coiling tighter as I edge closer and closer to unraveling. And then he pulls my hand away from his neck long enough to prompt it down to my center, a wordless request for me to touch myself. I slide my fingers between us and I press my touch to my clit and moan into his mouth.
Nolan pulls just far enough away to stare down into my face. “You consume every waking thought. Every fucking dream. I tried to hate you for it. But I can’t. I don’t.” His touch trails over my pulse. I wonder whether he thinks about how desperately he once hoped to snuff it out, or that my heart beats because of him. “Come apart for me.”
It’s as though he commands my body. Like he can conjure whatever he wants. The moment the demand leaves his lips, an orgasm builds until it washes through me. My lips part. My eyes close. Pleasure shatters through me, igniting every cell. My back bows from the bed and I feel the desperate unraveling of Nolan above me. He grits out my name as his final thrusts strike deep and hard, a tremor racking his body as he fills me with his cum.
Though it feels as though it could last forever, the orgasm gradually passes. His strokes slow to a stop, but he stays buried in my pussy. “So fucking beautiful,” Nolan whispers, and with a kiss to the lashes of each of my closed eyes, he lets his weight sink onto me. It’s a delicious pressure that I savor. Heat and heartbeats. Scents and caresses.
I trace long, slow lines down his spine. The sun is starting to color the world outside the window with shades of overcast gray. I’d like to imagine the outside world will never creep into this sanctuary, but there are too many fears and adversaries lying beyond that door for us to stay here much longer. And eventhough we remain entangled for a long while, it still feels too soon when Nolan checks his watch with a defeated groan and pulls away.
“I’d like to stay, but I should really go,” he says, dragging his bag closer to the bed to pull a pair of briefs from its depths. I realize I must be showing more disappointment than I intended, because his expression softens. “I want to keep tabs on Sam. You should get some rest anyway, and I’m not sure that’ll happen if I’m here.”
I scoff, though I know he’s probably right. “I can control myself.”
“I can’t.”
