by Karina Halle
“I suppose it was a relief when you found out I’d gone,” I tell him, putting the laundry basket on top of the washer. I fold my arms across my chest and lean back against it, looking him in the eye. I’m not going anywhere.
“I didn’t have a choice,” he goes on, looking away and skirting past what I said. “The guy that was supposed to fix the dryer never showed up. He’s been supposed to show up for the last five days.”
I give him a dry smile. “Island life strikes again.”
“I wouldn’t have come if I’d . . .”
He wouldn’t have come if he’d known I’d be here.
“. . . Monica is very grateful that you’ve been so generous.”
“So I guess this ends your two-weeks-of-avoiding-me streak.” I turn away from him and open the lid to the washer. I make a tsking sound. “And you were doing such a good job.”
He doesn’t say anything to that; instead the room seems to hum with tension. I dare to look at him, and though he’s stone-faced, there’s a spark in his eyes. The thing is, he was avoiding me. He told me he would stay away. There’s no way he can deny the truth.
I shove the clothes in the washer and slam the lid shut, straightening up to turn the dial to the right settings.
Without saying a word, Harrison starts walking off.
What the fuck?
I march over to him and grab his arm, pulling him to a stop.
“That’s it?” I ask him, feeling irate. “Now you just walk off without saying anything? Is that what you’re going to do every time you see me now?”
He turns to face me, his brow furrowed, eyes blazing. “I’m just doing what I can.” His voice is rough, borderline angry. Why is he angry? I’m the one who is angry here.
“You don’t have to be a dick about it.”
“How am I being a dick?” he snaps.
“You had no business telling me all those things you told me,” I say, and I hate how shaky my voice is and how vulnerable I feel. I fold my arms across my chest, as if I can protect myself that way. “You said some of the sweetest, nicest things that anyone has ever said to me; you told me that you liked me. And then you walked away and stayed away, just as you’re trying to do now. Is this how it’s going to be? For how long?”
“For as long as I’m here,” he says gruffly. His jaw muscles clench, and I can tell how badly he wants to leave. But I won’t let him go easily.
“Oh really. So, for at least the next six months, you’re going to just pretend I don’t exist? Why?”
His eyes narrow, nostrils flare. “You know why.”
“I don’t. I don’t, okay? You gave me some vague mumbo jumbo about me deserving better and if you were a lesser man you’d lose control and that you can’t afford to feel the way you do about me. Well? Do you feel something still or not? Has it gone away? Has it magically disappeared because you haven’t seen me? Out of sight, out of mind, is that how easy it is to forget me?”
He presses his lips together in a hard line and looks away.
“Hey,” I tell him, taking a step closer, until I’m right up against him and really in his face, about impossible to ignore as I’ll ever be. “Now you’re just being rude. Look at me.”
With reluctance, his eyes meet mine, and they’re as intense as I’ve seen them, burning, practically smoldering.
“I’ll say it again, okay? You don’t get to tell me nice things and then act like it never happened. You don’t get to pretend that I don’t exist. I don’t know what we have between us, but there is something between us. You said as much yourself. Maybe it scares you, but it scares me too, and yet I’m not about to pretend it doesn’t exist or that it isn’t real. I just . . .” I shake my head, surprised that I’m still talking, that I’m going there. “You said you’d be a lesser man if you kissed me. I think you’re a lesser man for running away.”
His nostrils flare at that. It’s a sore spot.
And I decide to poke at it again.
“You need to fucking man up,” I add snidely.
Something in his eyes snaps. The greens and blues ignite, and I know I’ve crossed a line that I can’t come back from.
It happens so fast, there’s no time to blink.
The space between us disintegrates, and then his hands cup my face, his fingers pressing into my skin as his lips crash angrily against mine.
I’m still so full of fire that it takes me a moment to realize what’s happening, that it’s his mouth on mine, hard and soft all at once and unrelenting in his pursuit. His hands are large and warm, and it’s not just that they hold me in place—they pull me to him, until I’m unsteady on my feet. I feel like I’m standing precipitously on a rock that juts out into an ocean storm, waves crashing on either side of me. I have a choice to surrender to the chaos or head back to shore.
I choose to surrender.
My mouth opens against his, my hands grasping his shirt in a ravenous, delirious way, as if I’d been starving all this time and only realized it now. Heat floods through me, like stepping into warm, sweet bathwater, and I make the fists in his shirt tighter, as if that will give me some control.
A groan escapes from his lips, reverberating through me, a sound filled with so much frustration, want, and need that I feel it in my core, this wicked flame that causes my legs to squeeze together.
This is happening.
My brain can barely conjure up the thought. There are more thoughts that want to follow, to fill my head, to make me second-guess everything, but they have no place here, not now. For once, I just want to feel and not think.
I let go.
This kiss lives in the marrow of my bones. Each sweep of his tongue against mine is the cumulation of unsaid words. As his mouth opens against my lips, hungry and frenzied, growing more passionate and rough by the second, there are weeks of pent-up feelings coming to light and burning away.
We stumble backward across the room, one of his hands sweeping up under my hair, his fingers curling around my strands, pulling with just the right amount of pleasure. He’s breathless already, and I’m not sure I’m breathing at all. If it weren’t for my heart trying to beat its way out of my rib cage, I’d wager that I’m not even alive. Died and gone to heaven, or caught in some fevered dream.
But if I’m dreaming, I don’t ever want to wake up.
My ass hits the dryer, and we come to a stop.
He pulls his mouth away from mine, a greedy little gasp escaping my lips, and rests his forehead against mine, his breath raspy. His eyes flutter closed, his forehead wrinkled in some form of anguish.
Please don’t let him stop, I think. Please don’t let him apologize, get cold feet, turn, and walk away.
“Harrison,” I whisper to him, my voice thick with lust. I put my hands on either side of his face and then let my fingers trail to the back of his head.
He shakes his head slightly, his eyes still closed, and I can feel it, this cord, this connection between us. It’s been snapping and crackling like an electrified whip, but it’s starting to wane, to stretch, threatening to break.
He’s going to pull that walking-away shit, isn’t he?
“Harrison,” I say again, licking my lips, my mouth already bereft without the heat of his. I run my thumbs under his eyes, marveling at how I can touch him like this. Wanting to touch him more.
Emboldened only by determination and the fact that I’ve never been this turned on before, I let my hand fall from his face, run my fingers down the middle of his collared shirt. I start undoing buttons, stealing a glance at his skin, the tattoos, a hint of chest hair. I can feel the heat radiating off him.
Then my fingers get impatient and I let my hand drift down, down, down, until I pause at his belt buckle.
He swallows audibly, and his eyes open, staring right into mine, a look of warning flashing through them.
&nb
sp; I take that look as a challenge.
I start undoing the buckle, then yank down the zipper.
The sound of it unzipping echoes in this room.
Keeping my eyes locked with Harrison’s, I slip my hand into his pants until my palm presses against his boxer briefs and the long, thick width of his hard-on.
Wow.
I’ve never been this bold before.
Then again, I don’t think I’ve ever ached this much for someone in my life.
I bite my lip, unable to stop from giving his dick a firm squeeze, feeling the heat and desire crash over me like a tempest.
Holy shit, I’m in trouble.
An involuntary groan comes out of him, flooding me with even more desire than before. “Piper,” he murmurs, pressing himself into my hand. “I’m this close to unraveling.”
“That makes two of us,” I tell him, releasing my hand momentarily and then slipping my fingers underneath the elastic waistband until his bare skin is in my palm, hard as concrete, yet soft like warmed velvet.
“Fuck,” he whispers, breathing in through a gasp as I make a fist, reveling in his size. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
Then he’s putting his hands at my waist and lifting me up onto the dryer.
“I know perfectly well,” I tell him, because this is what I’ve been asking for, even if I’ve been too afraid until now to say it. “I—”
His mouth crashes against mine, sealing off my words, his hands going to my thighs and hiking up the hem of my dress. His hands are rough and hot as they travel up my legs, gripping at my hips, a thumb hooking around the lace edge of my underwear.
Then my underwear is being pulled down until it’s dangling off one foot and his lips continue their hungry journey from my mouth, down my jaw, nipping and licking until they reach my neck.
I moan loudly, unashamed at how vocal I am, and as he sucks roughly at my tender neck, his palms go to my inner thighs and spread them. Hands hook around my ass and shrug my body closer to him. I eagerly wrap my legs around his waist, wanting so much more of him that it seems I can’t get close enough. The intensity is wild, a visceral thrill, and I’m already wet between my legs with this ridiculous need for him.
His hands trail up to my shoulders, slipping the spaghetti straps off, and he places hot and impatient kisses along my shoulders, nipping across my collarbone.
I’m impatient too. I reach between my legs for his cock, wrapping my fingers around it and giving it another hard squeeze.
“Piper,” he ekes out against my skin, pulling down the neckline of my dress.
I love the way he says my name. Like it’s a way to hold me to him, as if I’m something magical and unreal and ready to float away.
His lips and tongue make a path down my chest until my breast pops free, my nipple immediately hardening. He takes it in his mouth, a sharp, wet suck that causes my body to shake and burn, as if pure fire has been poured into my veins.
“Harrison,” I hiss. Now I’m saying his name in the same way.
As his mouth works at me, the pleasure radiating outward from his fervent lips and teasing tongue, my neck arches back, eyes to the ceiling.
“Are you protected?” he asks, his mouth pulling away, wet and slick.
“I have an IUD, if that’s what you mean,” I tell him, catching my breath. “And I’m clean. It’s been . . . a really long time.” Like . . . I hate to admit it, but the last person I slept with was Joey.
I quickly shove that awful image out of my head.
“Same for me,” he says, his eyes searching mine. “And also a long time. Ridiculously long.” He swallows, giving me a hint of a smile. “I apologize in advance if I’m unable to hold back for long. I will still make it worth your while.”
And at that he moves back and dips his head between my legs.
Oh wow. Oh, Harrison.
This is happening.
I tense up from the feeling of his rough stubble scraping against the tender skin of my inner thighs, my fingers curling over the edge of the dryer.
My legs part, and then the long sweep of his tongue glides over me where I’m already wet and willing. Nerves leap at the contact, and I instinctively press my thighs around his head.
He moans into me, causing me to gasp, my back arching.
Holy shit.
I try to relax into him, his tongue wide and hot as he licks at me, soft and hard all at once, and my heartbeat feels like it might just break through my rib cage. I start to lose my train of thought, forgetting where we are, forgetting everything except us. Only we exist here.
“Fuck,” I cry out as he swirls around my clit, one of my hands shooting to his head, tugging on his hair. I’m trying to bring him closer, because even as I feel the pressure building and swirling inside me and I’m close to coming already, it’s like he can’t get close enough. I want so much more of him and more than this. I want him inside me.
“Harrison,” I try to say, my words coming out heavy and hoarse. I tug at his hair again, but he’s a man on a mission. Who am I to get in his way?
So I let him bring me to the edge. I let myself fall over.
There’s the free fall, and then my orgasm comes up like a rocket ship, blasting through me and into deep space until I don’t know my name anymore. I moan loudly, my body quaking, my thighs squeezing around Harrison’s face until I slowly come back down to earth.
Dear Lord . . . that was . . .
I can barely think, barely talk.
And Harrison doesn’t leave me any time to catch my breath.
He grabs me by the back of my head, pulling my face toward his, his lips crushing mine. I taste myself on his tongue, mixed with the sweat from his exertion in this now hot room, and I open myself to a kiss that seems to turn me inside out, a kiss that makes my soul ache.
I place my fingers at the back of his neck and pull back just enough, our mouths wet and open, our breath heavy in unison. He rests his forehead against mine, his eyes searching my eyes. There’s a flash of worry in them, the way he’s frowning.
I think he thinks I’m about to tell him to stop.
I’m about to tell him the opposite.
“Come inside me,” I whisper.
He stares at me in faint surprise.
It lasts just a moment before a raw, primal heat makes his eyes simmer with lust.
And then he’s kissing me again. I’m lost to him, and we’re wild, messy, lips and teeth and tongues that grow more ravenous by the second. He reaches down between my legs, positioning himself at my entrance, and I grip his strong shoulders just as he pushes himself inside.
I gasp loudly, my body in shock. As I said, it has been a long time since I was with someone, and that someone was definitely not built like Harrison.
“Are you okay?” he murmurs, pulling away from my mouth to stare at me in concern.
I nod, trying to breathe, trying to swallow.
“I’ll go slow,” he says, placing kisses along my jaw, over to my neck, as he slowly pushes himself in to the hilt.
Good lord. How am I going to survive him? I don’t mean just now. I mean after this. How will things go back to normal after I know what it feels like to have him so deep inside me, to have him make me feel so full?
“Better?” he asks, before his tongue drags across my chest, sucking my nipple into his mouth. I close my eyes, my mouth falling open in a low moan.
“Yes,” I manage to say, holding tight as he slowly withdraws and then thrusts back up inside me. “God, yes.”
My body starts to mold to his now, surrendering to the decadent push and pull as he pumps inside me, and hot, wicked flames start to burn deep, a fire that will soon consume me as every drag of his cock feels like a match about to strike.
We have a rhythm now, easy, sweet, and indulgent, but now I want
more, need more. I don’t want him to hold back anymore. I want him to let loose, to overtake me, to set the wild beast inside him free.
“Harder,” I say through a groan, my nails digging in through his shirt. “Please.”
He grunts in response, picking up the pace as his hips start to slam against mine. The dryer rocks beneath us, but it doesn’t slow him down. I hold him tighter as everything inside me starts to wind around itself like spools of electricity, frayed and vibrating and promising relief.
Harrison continues to piston his hips against me, his thrusts deeper and harder, and I stare up at his gorgeous face, the heavy lids over fiery eyes, the hard set of his jaw, the lines in his forehead where sweat is pooling from the way he’s working me. Because it is work, the way he’s so determined to fuck the life out of me.
Then he slides his hand down between my legs, his fingers rough over my slick skin, and I’m crying out his name, the live wires inside me threatening to break me.
“Oh god,” I practically whimper, “I’m close.”
But I am closer than I thought.
With one rough pass of his thumb over my clit, it yanks the rug out from under me and I’m falling again, into him, into this wild, crazy, unadulterated bliss.
My legs wrap around him tighter, I’m clawing at him like I’ve lost my mind, and my head goes back, the world spinning out of control.
“Fuck,” he moans, and I fight through my orgasm to stare at him, taking in the sight of Harrison as he’s losing control. His face contorts in pleasure and pain, and then he’s making a fist in my hair and tugging it as he comes, his body shuddering as he releases inside me.
“Piper,” he cries out, his face burying in my neck as his pumping slows. “Piper.”
He doesn’t have to say anything else. I feel it all.
We stay like that for a while, our hearts slowing, our breath returning.
He pulls back and stares at me, brushing my wild hair off my damp forehead, and gives me the sweetest smile. His eyes are sated, his body relaxed even as he’s still inside me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him at peace like this, like he’s a completely different person. No longer in control, he’s succumbed to me, and we’re together in the aftermath, realizing that it’s okay to break every now and then.