I nod, but words don’t come. Instead, I pull her flush against me, skin to skin, and slide my hand up her thigh until I’m cupping her again, stroking her back into a fever. She gasps, a high, sweet sound, and claws at my waistband. I guide her hand, help her free me, and the second she wraps her hand around my cock, I see stars.
“God, you’re …” she starts, then breaks off, laughing helplessly. “You’re a lot.” Her grip is small but strong, so soft it almost undoes me. She looks at me, unfiltered awe on her face.
“You’re so …” She ends the sentence with her hand, stroking me up and down, gentle at first, then with a confidence that makes my vision tunnel.
I cut her off with a kiss, hips rocking into her palm. It’s wild, the way she learns me. Like she wants to memorize what I like, how I flinch and twitch and lose control when she gets itright. I want to let her. I want to let her see every last unguarded inch of me. But I can’t hold out. Not even for her.
“Harper,” I gasp, “I won’t last…” She hushes me with her lips, her body flush against mine.
“You don’t have to.” Her voice is so gentle, so fucking kind, it almost slays me. She keeps stroking until I’m dizzy, then guides me down onto my back, straddling my hips. Her hair spills around her face, blue eyes blazing.
I want to worship her. I want to hold her and make her come until she forgets her name. But she’s got her mind set. She wants to take care of me. And the need in her is so honest, so raw, that I give in and let her.
She lines me up without hesitation, and the first touch of her is liquid fire. She sinks down slow, her head bowed, hair shrouding her face until her hips meet mine and she takes me all the way in. My vision goes black at the edges. She’s so tight. Hot, wet, pulsing around me. She lets out a sound—a broken, breathy moan—that vibrates straight through my bones. I dig my hands into her hips, but force myself not to thrust, not to take over. I want her to set the pace. I want her to own this.
She rides me, hesitant at first, testing the angle, then catching a rhythm that has her eyes fluttering shut and her mouth opening in a silent cry. I watch her, wanting every detail. Harper’s breasts bounce with each slow grind. I can feel her thighs tremble when she takes me deep, losing herself, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but raw pleasure.
“Goddamn, Harper,” I rasp, shameless, undone. “You’re perfect.” And she is. Every fucking inch of her. Her hands sprawl over my chest, nails biting my skin, and then she leans down, hair making a curtain around us, and kisses me—messy, hungry, and wild. She clenches around me and I jerk up to meet her, driving deeper, and the shock on her face when I hit a new spot makes me want to laugh and howl at the same time.
She breaks the kiss, gasping my name like a curse. “Ethan, I-I—” She can’t finish. I don’t even know what I’m doing,” she chokes out. “I’ve never …”
I grab her by the hips, slow her down, and thrust up once, hard, and she shatters around me, her orgasm crashing through her body in a tidal wave. She clamps down, so tight and wet I lose any hope of holding back. I come with a guttural groan, my whole body locking up while she rides every last pulse out of me.
We collapse together in a heap, her small frame curled on top of my chest. I’m still pulsing inside her, and she’s shivering, hair tangled, face pressed to my neck. I wrap my arms around her and hold her there, not letting go even after the aftershocks fade.
She laughs, shaky and stunned, and her breath is hot against my skin. “Holy shit,” she says again, voice raw and delighted. “That was … not a bad idea.”
I grin, heart pounding so hard I’m almost dizzy. “Not even a little,” I say. My hand finds her hair, smoothes it back, and I kiss her again -- slow now, gentle, like I’ve got all the time in the world.
She melts against me, every inch of her soft and warm and mine. For the first time in years, I feel whole. Like I’m not a broken thing. Like maybe there’s a future where I don’t have to freeze myself solid just to keep from getting hurt.
Harper rolls off, curling onto her side, still breathing hard. My hand finds hers between us, fingers tangling. We lie there together, silent but not awkward. Not afraid, just at peace. The quiet after the avalanche, when the air is new and nothing is broken.
My heart’s still in my throat, but the rest of me is so fucking relaxed I could sink right through the mattress. Her hair fans across the pillow, wild and beautiful, and she looks overat me with a sleepy, satisfied grin that could light up the entire town.
I lean in and kiss her, slow and lazy this time. No rush, no hunger. Just the warmth of her lips, soft and sure against mine. I could stay here for a thousand years and never get tired of it.
But she nudges me with her nose, a little giggle rumbling in her chest. “You’re staring,” she whispers.
“Can’t help it,” I say. “I like looking at you.”
The sound she makes is half-laugh, half-sigh. “You say things like that and it’s dangerous.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Dangerous how?”
She bites her lip, thinking. “Dangerous like I might want to keep doing this for longer than a week.”
The words hit me harder than anything else tonight, and something inside me tries to panic. I clamp down on it. “You mean the charity stuff or the fake marriage.”
She shakes her head. “I mean … you. This.” She squeezes my hand again, voice shy but steady. “I want all of it.”
Chapter 15
Harper
If heaven has a waiting room, it probably feels like this. Warm, post-orgasmic, and filled with the scent of a man who ruined sleep for me in the best possible ways.
I blink awake slowly -- the kind of slow where your body refuses to move because it’s too deeply, blissfully satisfied. Ethan’s arm is heavy around my waist, his breath brushing the back of my neck in slow, soft intervals.
