Tamed By You (Always & Forever #2)

13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Harry

Well, she got me good with that prank. I can’t even be mad at her really. I suppose I was kind of a dick today. Ali may be the most confusing, frustrating, hottest woman I have ever met. But there is something about her. I have a feeling there are many layers to Alice Hart and I, for some reason, am drawn to her and want to peel back every single one of them.

I step out the shower and reach for my towel. I had hoped the cold water would not only ease the pain in my back but my throbbing hard on.

It didn't.

I dry off and dress in dark suit pants and a white shirt, rolling up the sleeves to my elbow and putting on my Omega watch. Jack is right, I know he is. We need to figure out how to be around each other without tearing limbs off one another.

Everyone has headed down to the casino early and I head over to the suite the girls are staying in to speak to Ali.

Ria left her keycard in our suite, so I use it to tap on the door and let myself in. The suite is messy, dresses, balloons, heels scattered everywhere, and a tray of half-eaten room service sits in the entryway.

Music is thumping from one of the rooms, a Beyonce track I think, and I follow the sound to the bathroom.

Ali is in a matching black strapless bra and thong, looking in the mirror using what I think is a curling iron in her hair. Her silky blonde locks drape down her back and finish just above the small of her back. She’s swaying her hips in time with the music, singing along, her voice surprisingly good, and my body heats watching her, knowing just how damn good those hips feel griding down on me.

I clear my throat and tap the bathroom door and she yelps. “Jesus, fuck, what are you doing? Haven’t you heard of knocking?”

“Ermm, I did knock.” I point at the door.

“I meant the main door, you ass. I nearly burned my hair off.”

“Sorry. I used Ria’s key card.” I take small steps towards her. “I’m here to call a truce, or…” My eyes rake over her body. Her tan glowing from the day round the pool, her hypnotizing eyes staring back at me. She looks like every man’s fantasy. “...I could think of something else we could do.”

“Not happening,” she says, placing the curling iron on the bathroom counter.

I step in behind her. Leaning in to inhale her coconut scent that has a hint of salted caramel this evening, reminding me of days at the beach.

“I need to get dressed. Since you’re here, you can help me get my dress on.”

“I’m much better at taking dresses off.”

She turns, her blonde hair hitting my chest. Without heels on, she stands at a tiny 5ft 3 I would guess. Being 6ft 2, I tower over her, and she has to crane her neck to look up at me.

“Either help me or our lovely suite butler, Ian would no doubt be happy to zip and clip me in.”

“Show me the dress,” I deadpan. Hating the idea of another man seeing her like this.

Why does it bother me so much?

I follow her out of the bathroom like a lost puppy. She halts her steps, clicking her fingers to gain my attention, and points to the large open space. “Hey, stop perving. Go in there. I'll get my dress then we can head downstairs.”

She disappears down the hallway and I head over to the couch area where a small table houses a bottle of vodka and what looks like used shot glasses. I pour myself one, needing some Dutch courage for this conversation with her.

She returns holding a sparkly black piece material.

“That’s a dress?” I point at it.

“Yes, it is.”

“Not much to it, is there?” I realize what bothers me is other men seeing her in that, because even before I see it on her, I know how insanely hot she will look in it.

She starts looking around the room like she's searching for something, lifting cushions and blankets.

“What are you looking for?”

“The opinion I asked you for. Oh, would you look at that? I can't find it because I didn't ask for it.”

I laugh, swiping my tongue along my lower lip, tasting the remnants of the vodka. She steps into the dress, wiggling her body to pull it up. It sparkles and clings to her like a second skin.

“There's a zip in the middle, then a little hook at the top. Can you do it?”

“Manners,” I demand.

“Please,” she drawls.

I gather her silky hair, and move it to one side, brushing my fingertips along the top of her back, watching goosebumps scatter across her skin under my touch. I reach for the tiny zipper and slowly pull it up. Hooking my fingers into the top of the dress, my fingers once again grazing her golden skin as I link the tiny sliver clasp together and then smooth my hands down her body, skimming her waist and landing on her torso.

“All done,” I whisper.

I don’t move, and neither does she. Her breathing is heavier, her body leans into my hold. My hardening length strains against my pants, and I know she must feel it too. All too soon, she clears her throat and steps away.

“Thanks,” she snaps, adjusting the hem of her dress. “I thought you hated me.” She smirks, pointing her finger to the obvious bulge in my pants.

“It’s a hate boner. I promise.”

She huffs out a laugh. “If you say so.”

“You look incredible by the way,” I tell her, feeling the need to compliment her. I don’t think I’ve ever really complimented her.

“Thanks.” A little sparkle forms in her eye. “You scrub up pretty good yourself.”

A beat passes between us, and I have the sudden urge to take her in my arms and kiss her. Before I can consider doing it, she breaks the silence. “So how are we going to do this?”

“Well, I could bend you over the couch, or if you fancy a view whilst I rail you from behind, I could press you against the window.” I point at the floor-to-ceiling window.

“Be serious,” she mutters.

“Oh, I am.”

She throws her head back, and the most beautiful, deep sound of her laughter fills the room. “That’s not what I meant. Please, be serious for a second.”

“Okay, okay,” I concede, holding my hands up in surrender.

“Jack’s right. We need to stop this for them. They deserve a good weekend. Can we agree on a truce? Even if it’s for the next twenty-four hours. We can go back to hating each other after.”

I nod in agreement. Reaching out for the hand she is offering.

“Truce,” she says.

I take her hand, enjoying the feel of her soft skin against mine. Remembering how good it felt when she had her hands all over me.

“Truce… but for the record, I've never hated you.” She licks her lips, avoiding any eye contact. “But I have an idea. I think we don't know enough about each other so, how about we get to ask each other three questions and we will do some shots and head downstairs and act like we are besties for the night?” She eyes me curiously. “Come on, Ali Cat, humor me. You might end up liking me.”

“Fine,” she huffs, and it sounds like defeat, sitting down on the cream-colored couch. I pour the shots of vodka, handing her one.

“I'll go first. Do you have any siblings?”

She shakes her head. “Nope, they broke the mold when they made me. No need to have another.”

I laugh. Such an Ali answer. “Do you have any other siblings?” she asks, filling up the shot glasses again.

“Nope, just me and Tori, my mom said she was sent the perfect pigeon pair. No need to try again. Plus, I think we nearly killed her off in our early years.”

“I can see that. I bet you were a nightmare as a baby.”

“Are you close with your family? You don't ever mention any.” I ask, genuinely curious, wanting to know more about her.

She stiffens, taking her shot. “Nope, been on own since I was about eighteen and it will remain that way.”

Sensing she didn't want me to pry, I let her ask me another question.

“Do you miss the Marine Corps? Would you ever go back?” she asks hesitantly.

I pause before answering, as talking about my time there is always hard after everything we went through. “I miss it, sure. That brotherhood and the trips we took. There’s nothing like it, but would I go back? Nah. I did my time, saw a lot, lost a lot and I’m where I’m meant to be now.”

To my surprise, she reaches for my thigh, giving it a little squeeze before filling up our shot glasses again.

“I know you work at a magazine, but what do you actually do?” I ask, throwing back another drink.

“I am a stylist assistant. I love it. I’ve always been drawn to fashion. When I was a kid, I did pageants and modeling, which I hated, but I always loved the costumes and the clothes, so that’s the path I took.”

Her admission doesn’t surprise me. She’s stunning and carries herself with a certain type of grace, and suddenly I realize this is part of her appeal to me, what’s drawn me to her. I’ve never met a woman like her. She knows who she is, what she wants, and makes no apologies for it.

“Pageants, huh? I can see it. Was it full on toddlers and tiaras?” She’s just taken a shot and chokes with laughter and I reach giving her a tap on the back.

“Yeah, something like that.” She looks down at her glass. Something in her face changes as she begins circling the rim with her index finger. She looks uncomfortable, jaw tight, and just as I go to ask her if she’s okay, her expression changes to a smile and she’s back to Ali.

“Okay, my turn. What's your favorite food?”

“Pizza.”

“Pizza?”

“Yeah, I’m a simple guy.”

“I know,” she laughs, a slight slur in her voice.

I take another shot. How many have we had?

“And you, what’s yours?”

“Hmmm, that’s a tough one, cheesecake, or red velvet cake.”

“Huh, you’re a cake girl.”

“Sure am.”

We clink our glasses and take another shot.

“Favorite movie?”

“Easy, Top Gun.”

She nods.

“What’s your main goal in life?” I ask her.

She pops an elbow on the back of the couch and leans on her hand, her arm wobbling, the vodka visibly taking its effect.

She worries her bottom lip, taking a moment to think. I place our shot glasses down; aware we've had enough. Her icy blue eyes close before opening them and staring directly into mine.

“To feel free.” Her voice is quiet but just loud enough to hear. And her words hit me right in the heart. She seems to be a carefree life and soul of the party girl, so her words are unexpected and without thinking, I reach out my hand and trace my index finger down her cheek.

Her eyes flutter shut as she leans into my touch.

I move my body closer, overwhelmed by the biggest urge to kiss her, to make her happy, but I pull back as her eyes open.

“I am sorry about today, and the whole cupping thing. I really didn’t think you were paying attention and listening to me.”

I let out a low chuckle. “Hey, that was on me, I was an ass and screwed you over and I didn’t read that form but to be clear, I had no interest in that girl's number and I’m always listening when you speak.” A blush creeps across her cheeks, and I think that is the first time I’ve ever seen her react to me in that way.

“And what you did today, at the pool. Thank you.”

Taking a second to realize what she’s referring to, I nod. “Anytime, I may be an ass at times, Ali, but I’ve got you, okay? If you fall, I'll catch you.”

She nods, her eyes softening at my words and then she shakes her head, moving towards the table, ending the moment. “Okay therapy session over, let’s have one for the road and get going.”

She pours another shot, and we throw it back, I stand first, taking her hand, and pull her up. We head towards the door where she attempts to fasten her high heels, but she keeps falling, giggling every time she does.

“Here, let me help you, Bambi.” She leans back against the wall, still giggling, her glazed eyes looking down at me as I sink to my knees to help her. Lifting her foot, I note the pink nail polish on her toes that matches her fingernails. Ali is always well groomed, another thing I find incredibly sexy.

I fasten the first strap around her ankle, carefully placing her foot down before reaching for the other. I smooth my hand along the arch of her foot, loving the feel of her silky skin, and then slide her foot into her shoe.

I glance up, and she’s still looking straight at me, her eyes full of heat. She wants me, and I know this because it’s the same look she gave me back in New York. “All done,” I tell her, tracing my fingers up her calf, slowly making my way to her thigh. I rise to standing, towering over her.

The tension swirls between us, my chest rising and falling as I watch her throat bob when she swallows. Stepping in closer, our bodies inches apart. The burning desire to touch her is almost unbearable. I cup her jaw, bringing her face to mine, stroking the pad of my thumb along her bottom lip my cock twitches when her tongue peeks out where my thumb has just been. My restraint is close to snapping like a rubber band.

“Ali…” I say gruffly, my tone laced with desire. Brushing my lips gently over hers she whimpers.

“Harry, just…” My name falling from her lips on a breathless whisper is my undoing. I crash my mouth down on hers and the kiss turns frantic. Pinning her to the wall and pressing my body against hers, we are a mixture of loud, gasping moans, and tearing at each other's clothes. The need for one another palpable.

I push her dress up around her waist, as she fumbles with my belt, undoing it, popping my pants' button and letting them fall to the floor.

“Fuck, I need you.” My voice is raspy and desperate, heart hammering, groaning in pleasure as she weaves her fingers into my hair.

Peppering kisses down the column of her neck, I pull another moan from her when I suck hard on that sensitive spot on her collarbone before I bury my head into the crook of her neck. My balls ache, and I know I won't last a minute here.

“My purse,” she says, breathlessly. I blindly reach for it on the entry table next to us, never breaking contact with her. I pass it to her, and she opens it, pulling out a condom before dropping the purse to the floor, its contents scattering with a loud clatter. I take it out of her hand, tearing it open with my teeth and sliding the condom down my throbbing cock, already leaking with pre cum. There’s no time for foreplay. I need her. The desire to be inside her is almost too much to handle.

I lift her by the waist, pinning her to the wall with one hand, lining up my cock with her entrance, as she wraps her legs around my waist, she sinks down on my hard length, soaking me with her arousal. Swallowing her moans with my mouth I slide my tongue between her lips to meet hers.

It’s hard and fast, and what I've wanted, no needed, since I saw her at the club last night. I fuck her with a sense of urgency, desperate and needy for anything and everything she’s willing to give me. I’ve missed this, us, her. I’m buried inside her and yet it doesn’t feel enough, I need more.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” I whisper,

She digs her heels further into my ass, and I welcome the sting. Her fingernails pierce my skin when the grip she has on my neck tightens as I drive her into the wall, my hands wrapping around her waist tighter with every thrust. I want to savor every second of this intoxicating feeling.

“I... I…” She hesitates, each breath being forced out of her with each punishing thrust, her eyes searching mine for something as I silently pray, she’ll say it back.

“I missed you too,” She finally breathes against my skin.Her words sending a shiver of pleasure through me. And that was all I needed. She’s missed me, like I’ve missed her. The spark, the tension that’s been burning between us all weekend, and truthfully since the day we met has now become too powerful for either of us to fight anymore.

That all too familiar tightening starts in my balls at the same time her walls clamp my cock in a vice-like hold.

“Oh, god…” Her body shudders and I grind my hips, knowing she’s on the edge.

“Yes baby, just let go. Come for me,” I pant.

And she does. Loudly and unabashedly, she falls apart and I follow, pleasure hitting me like a strike of lightning.

We pant through our release, and she leans her head back against the wall with a light thud. Her body relaxing in my arms I hold her tighter, supporting her and swipe the hair that's clung to her face, I look into her eyes, hooded and sexy as hell.

We give each other a look and I press my forehead to hers, realization dawned on me. We both know this won't end here; we were never going to be a one and done thing, because when it's as explosive as this between us, how could we not be more?