Oh.
Harlon freezes. His breathing harsh against my neck, his whole body locked up like stone.
That’s definitely...he's?—
"Don't move." The words are barely a whisper, more plea than command, rough and desperate in a way I've never heard before.
My brain blows every fuse.
Harlon Giles, the man who's treated me like a leper for the entire time I’ve known him…ishard. Diamond hard and pressed right up against me, impossible to miss, impossible to misinterpret.
And he's trying like mad to hide it.
My body is warming up now, the shivers easing, and in their place is something else emerges entirely—a primal awareness that's been lurking under the surface for years, buried under his coldness and my hurt feelings and the whole forbidden mess of it all.
I move, just trying to get comfortable (I swear), attempting to find a position where the mattress spring isn’t digging into my hip.
His fingers flex on my arm. "Piper."
I make another small movement. This one maybe less innocent.
His whole body shudders, and the sound that comes out of him is somewhere between a groan and a growl.
I could live off that sound.
"Don't play games with me," he says, voice husky.
"I'm not—" I pause, gathering courage. "Harlon, you don't even like me."
The silence that follows is so heavy I can feel it pressing down on us.
"That's not—" he grumbles. "Christ, that's never been the problem."
My heart slams against my ribs. "Then what is?"
Instead of answering, he sighs in frustration, or maybe surrender—and suddenly I need to see his face.
I turn in his arms, forcing us even closer together on the narrow mattress. His arms loosen just enough to let me flip over, then immediately tighten again, like he can't help himself.
And then we're face to face in the flickering candlelight.
His gray eyes are storm-dark, pupils blown wide, and the hunger in them shocks me to the core. This is nothing like the cold dismissal I'm used to. This is raw and needy and riding a dangerous edge.
"Harlon—"
"You should go to sleep." But even as he says it, his hand slides up my spine, fingers splaying across my back, holding me to him.
His gaze drops to my mouth, and I watch his jaw clench with restraint.
I lean in slowly, watching his eyes darken as I bypass his mouth entirely and press my lips to the sharp line of his jaw. His stubble rasps against my lips, rough and masculine, and I hear his breath catch.
I trail soft kisses along his jawbone, exploring the strong angle of it, feeling the muscle jump under my mouth. When I reach the spot where it meets his ear, I pause, letting my breath linger over the sensitive skin there.
"Piper." My name comes out strangled.
I smile against his skin and move higher, catching his earlobe between my teeth.
Another shudder runs through him, head to toe, and his hands grip me hard, like he needs to anchor himself to something.
