Page 109 of The Runaway Bride of Blossom Branch

“I didn’t go anywhere,” she said. “I’m enjoying the moment.” She proved her point by leaning backward to cup his face in her hands and rub her thumbs over his cheekbones. “I’m right where I want to be.”

Harry’s gaze, for once, was unguarded. Deep in his gray eyes she saw hunger and determination but also tenderness.

The tenderness scared her most. She could walk away from carnal pleasure. But if Harry cared about her at all, it was going to break her heart to leave him alone in this huge apartment.

He isolated himself. By his own admission. His life was all work and no play. And as for the sex, well, she suspected he wasn’t the indiscriminate man his reputation indicated.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

Their lips met and clung. Harry held her in a crushing grip, nearly lifting her off the floor. Tenderness presided for ten seconds, maybe fifteen. Then desperation rushed in, shoving aside finer emotions and seizing the moment.

Harry muttered against her cheek. “Don’t distract me, Cate. I’m supposed to be getting you clean.” The water sluiced over them in a steady stream.

She cupped him intimately. “Only if I get to do the same.”

His breath hissed between his teeth. His eyes closed. When he moaned, the hair on her arms quivered.

Blindly, he reached for a squirt of shower gel and used both hands to smooth it over her breasts.

She wiped the water from his eyes. “I’m not that dirty.”

“I don’t really care.” His sensual, cocky smile weakened her legs. Especially when his fingers massaged every inch of her aching curves.

“Enough,” she gasped.

It was her turn to pleasure him. The gel had a light pleasant scent, like summer sunshine and pine trees. She cradled his sex between her palms and slicked his flesh with a firm pressure.

Harry went rigid, his hands clenched on her shoulders. “Cate...”

He said her name like a prayer.

When he cursed, she knew he had reached the limits of his control.

Even so, she gasped when he picked her up.

“Put your legs around my waist,” he said.

The dominant strength in his body, his stance, his hold, made her weak with longing. When he entered her, she cried out. This angle was new, the pleasure deeper, rawer.

She clung to his shoulders and buried her face in the side of his neck. Harry was in control. He used every bit of his power to drive them to the brink. At the last moment, he turned and pressed her into the shower wall. The cold stone was a shock.

But when Harry hammered into her and found his release, everything else faded away.

She relished every second of his pleasure, knowing he would soon give her what she needed.

And he did. After drying off, they stumbled into the bedroom and fell into Harry’s bed. Before she could protest, he was between her legs, sprawled on his belly, his intimate kiss teasing her sex.

She was so primed, she came quickly. The pleasure was like those recent fireworks. Bright and hot, lighting up the dark.

When it was over, they dozed, though the hour wasn’t late.

Sometime later, Harry took her again, this time face-to-face with her leg draped over his hip. She watched him watching her and felt undone. Could he see inside her soul?

It was a heck of a time to discover she was falling in love with him. To be fair, she had never fallen in love before. Not the real thing. So it had taken her all these weeks to understand what was happening.

Instead of being fun and lighthearted and entertaining, this was a scary, terrifying ride into the unknown.

Harry kissed her roughly. “Come with me, Cate.” He touched the spot where their bodies were joined. It was like pouring alcohol on an open flame. She shuddered and gave him everything. Her trust, her orgasm, his own climax and—though she dared not tell him—her heart.

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