She didn’t care. She couldn’t get close enough to him. Her mind was spinning. Or maybe it was the room. Her mouth watered with the thought of tasting him. Her whole being was consumed with need. Desperate, hopeless need.
“I’d keep control because I wouldn’t want to miss a second of touching you. I’d want to savour it. Prolong it. Commit each touch to memory. Until we were wrapped in each other. Only us. Moving together. Touching. Wanting. Needing. Nothing else. Only us.”
“I can’t stand it.” Magenta’s voice was a rasp. “Kiss me.”
He smiled against her mouth before he did just that.
12
She was wrapped around him. He felt the heat of her body pressed against his. Every shiver and tremble pushed his desire higher. Gods, but the taste of her. Ambrosia. Divine food of the gods. He knew there was nothing else on earth like it. He’d always known it would be like this. He’d been with other women, but he’d known, soul deep, that they had nothing on Magenta. No one did.
Her tiny whimper of need brought his thoughts back to her. Her slender hands moved to his hair, fingers weaving through it as she clung to him. She angled his head, kissing him deeper. Her passion ignited the dominant aspects of his nature that usually only surfaced during business or when he was fighting. It was important to him that he had control in this, for now. He wanted her to know that he wasn’t a walkover. That she couldn’t dismiss him easily. She couldn’t frighten him away the way she did with anyone else who got too close. He was too strong for that.
He put a few scant inches between them as he grasped her hands. He wound their fingers together, holding her hands on the ground on either side of her head. “Not so fast, baby. I want you to enjoy this. Don’t worry; I’ll make you feel so good you’ll have no problem relaxing for sleep.”
Her body pushed up under him. “Talk. Talk. Talk. That’s all I’m getting.” She was annoyed. And breathless.
He grinned against her lips. “So demanding.” He kissed her long and hard, stealing the breath from her. “I love it.” Before she could answer, his mouth was back on hers.
Her body relaxed as tiny moans peppered the air. The sound made him almost rabid with want. She clenched his hands so hard he felt the bite of her nails. It made him growl. Almost loath to lose the nip of her touch, he transferred both of her hands into one of his and slid to her side. He was still pressed fully against her, her leg still over his hip, but now he could touch her. He wanted his hands on the curves he’d dreamed about.
She groaned her displeasure at losing his weight. It made him smile. His mouth found her neck, where he bit and sucked, noting which touch got the strongest reaction. Filing the information away for future use.
“Harry.” It was barely a whisper, but it was filled with such longing it made his blood surge.
His hand skimmed over her shoulder, around the outer curve of her breast, over her hip to her thigh. She pressed into him, panting as his hand found skin. He held her tight at the curve where her thigh met her behind. His fingertips straying into the heat of her inner thigh. His lips moved to her ear.
“Do you want me to make you feel good? Do you want me to release the tension for you? I can. I can make your body do whatever I need it to do. Do you want that, Magenta?”
Her breath hitched. A gasp. “Harry.”
“Tell me, baby, tell me you want me to touch you and make you lose control.” His words were a dark mumble. Each one almost desperately tight.
“Harry?” He could hear the confusion. The need. She was somewhere else already. It made him want to roar with victory.
“Tell me,” he ordered. “Tell me you want me to touch you.”
He let his fingers whisper over her centre. Let her know exactly what he meant. She gasped and jolted into his touch.
“Harry. Please.” The desperation he heard turned him inside out.
“Tell me.” A whisper against her lips.
“Please touch me. Please make me soar.”
He slumped against her. Relief flooding him. “My pleasure, baby. My pleasure.” His mouth crashed on hers as his fingers slid under the cotton edge of her boy shorts. A second later, he found heaven. Wet. Ready. Pulsing with need.
His tongue plundered the depths of her mouth, while his nimble fingers teased her sensitive and needy core.
Her mewing sounds mingled with desperate pants. He caught each in his mouth. Savouring the taste of her desire. Swelling with pride at her loss of control.
“Please,” she gasped. “Please.”
He bit her full bottom lip, tugging it into his mouth. Her hands fought to be free. He pressed them into the earth, earning another moan. Her hips ground against his. Her calf clutched his hip. Her heel digging into his backside.
“I’ve got you,” he told her. “Let go.”
“Oh, oh, Harry!”
And then she was soaring, just like he’d promised she would. Harry covered her mouth with his to capture her moans. Feeling her buck beneath him. Holding her tight as her body spasmed and stretched. Gently, he coaxed her back down to earth. To him. His arms wrapped around her, as he fell to his back. He pulled Magenta on top of him.
With a kiss to her forehead, he stroked her hair.
“Harry,” she said softly. She sounded dazed. Wrung out. Sated.
He smiled into her hair. “Sleep, baby. It’ll soon be morning. Sleep here, with me.”
“Harry, we need to—we should, I mean, there should be talking.”
“Tomorrow. Tonight we sleep.”
She lifted her head as though ready to protest.
“Please, baby, let me enjoy this. I’ve waited so long to be close to you. I don’t want to miss a second. I want to hold you. I want you to sleep. Give me that.”
She stilled for a moment, then her body relaxed. Slowly, she tucked her head back under his chin. Her hand snaked under his arm to curve up around him. Her knee bent to cuddle his hip. Harry held her close as her body went heavy with sleep. Her breathing deep and slow. He was never letting her go. Ever.
It was then he heard it, a whisper carried by the air. “Holy hell. Did you hear that? Harry has skills. Who knew? Is it wrong to get hot listening to your cousin get horizontal with your best friend? I might need therapy. And a man. I definitely need a man.”
He’d forgotten that the people outside could hear them.
Harry’s eyes clenched shut. His whole body became taut as he waited to see if Magenta had heard. When she didn’t move and her steady breathing registered in his panicked mind, he allowed himself to relax.
There would be no sleep for him. He’d planned to spend his night memorising the feel of Magenta curled up against him. Instead he’d have to spend it thinking about what he would do in the morning. How he would deal with the fallout. He needed a plan, because when that door opened and Magenta realised they’d had an audience, she was either going to kill him or hate him.
And he couldn’t allow her to do either.
13
Magenta couldn’t look at Harry. She was mortified. She’d woken up wrapped around him, and her first thought had not been to run—no, her first thought had been that she should get him naked and lick him all over. Then she remembered they were in a tent. In a mine. And that she’d let him…hell, she couldn’t even put into words what she’d let him do. Not that she didn’t have the words. Just that she didn’t want to use them in association with Harry.
She hung her head as she thought about it. Harry. The man she’d sworn to avoid. The man she’d made sure to get rid of when she was thirteen. The man she’d barely kissed before he’d had his hands in her knickers!
She was a slut. A big, stupid slut. She’d given it up for Harry in a dirty old mine. Not only that, but she’d begged him. And all of this after barely a kiss and not even one date.
She took a deep breath. Several, in fact. Okay. So the situation wasn’t great. So getting physical with Harry hadn’t been her best decision. It was still salvageable. It wasn’t lik
e anyone knew what they’d done. It wasn’t like they’d gone on a date in public, where everyone in town would see and stick their noses in. She groaned. It wasn’t like they’d gone on a date at all. Never mind that. It was a slip-up. A mistake. A lapse in control. And it wasn’t like she planned to do it again. Oh, no. These were exceptional circumstances. Ones that would not be repeated. As soon as they got out of the mine, all she had to do was avoid him and make it clear that she had no interest in him.
Although how she’d manage that when she practically drooled every time he was near her, she didn’t know. Flashes of the night before flitted through her mind. Her pulse sped up at the memories. She wanted to scream with frustration. She had to stop thinking about him like that. There was no future for them. She needed to go on a trip. Deep into the land of denial and avoidance, where she could enjoy a holiday from reality.
She eyed the door, which now had slivers of light shining around it like a beacon of hope. When were they going to open the door? Had Harry lied about it being this morning? No. Surely not. She checked her watch. Seven a.m. Too early for a rescue.
“You hungry?” Harry’s voice jarred her out of her thoughts.
“Yes!” Okay, dial it down a notch. “I could eat.” Hopefully the eating would fill the time until the rescuing. Oh, how she needed rescuing.
“What do you want? I’ve got…”
She held up a hand. “Please, don’t list everything again. Give me a sandwich and a drink.”
He gave her a lazy grin before passing her what she’d asked for.
“About last night…”
Magenta shot to her feet. “No about last night,” she ordered. “No talking at all. Are we clear?”
“Baby.” He cocked an eyebrow at her, with a look that clearly said he thought she was overreacting. “We need to talk about last night. Then, once we have it sorted in your head, we need to repeat it. Soon. I’m thinking as soon as we get out of here. In a bed.”
“Stop talking.” She glared at him. “That’s what caused this in the first place. You talk and then things happen. It’s like some sort of voodoo or something. No. It’s brainwashing. You brainwash me into doing your bidding with your sexy words. Lots and lots of sexy words. Aren’t men supposed to be taciturn? I’ve known Lake for over a year and I’m sure he hasn’t said more than ten words to me. Let’s be like Lake. Let’s not talk.”
His smile turned dangerously sexy as he looked up at her through thick eyelashes. “You like it when I talk about sex? I can do that. I enjoy doing that.”
“Are you even listening to me?” She was practically screeching, and she never screeched. Ever. “No talking. Stop it. Or I’m going to wait for the rescue in the mine.” She folded her arms. “Alone.”
He considered her for a minute. “You know, every time you fold your arms like that it presses your breasts together. Which makes me think of all the things I could do with them pressed together.” His eyes went dark, which in turn made Magenta’s mouth turn dry.
“That’s it. I’m going into the mine. You can wait for the door to be opened on your own.”
“Sit down.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ll stop talking.”
She stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge if he was telling the truth or not. Eventually, she relaxed and sat back down across from him, her back to the wall. They ate in silence.
“Morning, you two.” Matt’s voice was a welcome relief from the heaviness of not talking to Harry.
Magenta jumped up and ran to the door. “What’s happening?”
“The council engineer is on his way up. He’s going to pry the door open, jack the jamb in case it cracks and let you two out. Once he’s done that, he’ll check the entrance and secure the door.” There was a pause. “Magenta, maybe you’d like to go back through the mine and come out the tunnel entrance in the hills?”
Magenta frowned in the direction Matt’s voice came from. Harry shuffled his feet beside her.
“Why would I want to do that? I’ll take two hours to get out that way, and your guy will have the door open long before then.”
“Well…” Matt seemed stuck for words. “There’s quite a crowd out here, and I know how you don’t like being the centre of attention.”
“He’s got a point,” Harry said. “You like being in the mine. It helps you relax. Maybe you should take an hour or two to do that before you head home.”
She stared at Harry. His face was carefully blank. She moved to fold her arms, but remembered what Harry had said about that gesture. She put her hands on her jean-clad hips instead. “What’s going on?”
“Yeah,” Matt said. “Why don’t you explain what’s going on, Harry, while I deal with the engineer?”
Harry muttered something under his breath.
“Harry?” Magenta was losing patience.
He folded his arms, and she briefly wondered if she should point out that it made her want to bite his shoulder. She didn’t, aware that would excite Harry, not irritate him, like his comment had irritated her. Sometimes the world wasn’t fair.
“About last night…” Harry started.
Magenta held up her hands to stop him. “I told you, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I understand that.” Harry clenched his jaw. “But there are some aspects of last night that we need to talk about before we get out of here. Trust me.”
“Not. Going. To. Happen.” She turned her back on him.
“Magenta.” Harry’s frustration came through loud and clear.
Before he could say anything else, there was a loud rumble from outside the mine. “Stand well back from the door,” someone shouted.
Magenta picked up her backpack and headed deeper into the mine. She’d wait by the tunnels. In the dark. Alone.
“Damn it,” Harry muttered as he moved to follow her.
A few seconds later, she heard the welcoming sound of metal on metal as they started to pry open the door. Magenta couldn’t wait to get out of the mine and away from Harry’s magic fingers and sexy voice. Denial would be a lot easier to achieve if she didn’t have him hanging around.
Magenta wouldn’t talk to him. She wouldn’t listen to him. And Harry knew from Matt’s friendly suggestion that things were going to go to hell in a handbasket as soon as the door opened. He shook his head. There was nothing he could do except weather the oncoming storm. He couldn’t even grab her to him and kiss some sense into her. She had on heavy climbing boots, and he valued his balls too much to try.
Harry had spent a wakeful night trying to figure out a solution to his problem. Even with his big brain, he’d come up with nothing. Nada. Zip. Nil. Nothing. His only option was to let this train wreck happen, then work at putting the pieces together afterwards. He watched Magenta out of the corner of his eye—assuming there were any pieces left.
Harry’s back muscles became increasingly tight as the door began to open. Light flooded the room, to the point where it was almost blinding.
“About time,” Magenta said.
Harry’s jaw clenched. This was not going to be good.
The door opened far enough for a large machine to slip into the space. They heard a whirr as it stretched to fill the opening. It stopped when it was wedged tight between the floor of the mine and the jamb. Harry took a deep breath. This was it. Magenta swung her pack onto her back. Harry left his gear. He’d get it later. Slowly, the heavy door swung out—to a cheer.
“Mine rescues are always entertaining,” Magenta told him.
He suspected that none of the previous ones had been as entertaining as this one.
“Okay, I’m off. Have a nice life, Harry.” With that, Magenta stalked towards the open door.
With a sigh, Harry followed—and ran right into her back two steps outside the entrance. Magenta was a statue. He wasn’t even sure she was breathing. She just stood there, transfixed by the raucous crowd in front of her. It seemed like most of Invertary was there to greet them. Harry spotted the knitting
group—Knit or Die—who’d brought along picnic baskets, beach chairs and blankets. They were knitting while grinning in Magenta’s direction.
“Good on you, girl,” Jean shouted. “Don’t let this one go. Any man who can make a girl scream like that is a man you hold on to.”
The other women nodded their agreement.
Matt stood beside the door, dressed in full police gear, his arms folded and a scowl on his face. He caught Harry’s eyes and gave him a look of disapproval. One Harry probably deserved.
“Go Harry, go Harry, go Harry.” The twins started a chant, which drew his attention.
That was when he noticed they’d taken a black marker pen to their matching white T-shirts. They’d written: Harry is a sex god. Harry felt the blood drain from his face. This was not good.
“Harry,” a guy from the back shouted. “You should run seminars. After last night, the missus was all over me.”
“Aye,” another guy yelled. “I need to write down some of those lines you used. Because they definitely worked.”
Harry watched Magenta’s shoulders straighten. A muscle on the side of her jaw twitched. Her backpack fell to the ground. Her hands went to her hips. She took a deep breath. Here it comes, Harry thought. I’m dead.
“Right, you bunch of perverts,” Magenta shouted. “It’s obvious you heard more than you should have. The show’s over. It’s time to go home.”
Harry almost collapsed at her words. She wasn’t embarrassed? He shot a look at Matt, who seemed equally stunned. Maybe this was part of the new, mature Magenta he hadn’t met yet. She seemed to be taking the lack of privacy really well. Not at all like the old “hit first, ask questions later” Magenta he remembered from his childhood. Then it hit him. She’d assumed that being overheard was news to Harry too. She didn’t realise he already knew they’d had an audience.
The crowd weren’t pleased with her reaction. There were boos. Malcolm, the local newspaper editor, photographer and only journalist stuck a camera in their faces. “How about the two of you kiss? I could use a picture to go with this story, and one of you snogging is much better than a photo of the mine door. Not that it isn’t a great door, but I’m sure you kissing will sell more papers.”
Magenta Mine: An Invertary Novella Page 7