Chapter 44
FORTY-FOUR
Gigi
I can’t bear this torture a minute longer.
“I’ll hate you, as promised.”
I turn away from Harry, if only to camouflage the emotion choking me. This is for him – he just doesn’t know it yet. The ring on my finger feels heavy and unyielding, a reminder of the life I’ve chosen.
The city lights blur as tears well in my eyes. I take a step towards the French doors that lead back inside.
“No,” he says as I reach the handle. “No.”
His hand grips my wrist, spinning me round to face him. His eyes are dark, mixed with a desperation that makes my breath catch. He tugs me to his chest, cupping the sides of my neck and crashing his mouth against mine.
The kiss steals the air from my lungs. He kisses me with everything he has left to give.
“Tell me this feels wrong,” he pleads into my mouth. “Tell me I should give this up. Tell me this reality isn’t meant for me and you. Try to tell me I won’t fight for you every single day.”
I cry, fisting his top. “Harry, stop.”
“I hate you.” He kisses me harder. “I fucking hate you for not letting us have this. I hate you for ever coming into my life and ruining every other woman in existence for me, because it’s only you. It’s only ever been you. It will only ever be you, Gigi.”
I try to pull back, my mind screaming at me. His life means more to me than anything. Harry knows we shouldn’t, because his kiss becomes demanding, like he’s claiming me right here – even if just for now.
Words die on my lips as he closes the distance between us. I kiss him back fiercely, my hand fisting his shirt, pulling him closer, until our bodies are tight. His lips move against me with a hunger that matches mine, his tongue sweeping in to tangle with my own.
His hands roam my body, one sliding up to cup the back of my neck, the other wrapping itself round my waist. He kisses me with such desperation that it obliterates every rational thought.
My knees weaken, and I cling to him, feeling the hardness of his chest, the heat of his skin seeping through his shirt.
His teeth sink into my lower lip, drawing out a soft moan.
The sound ignites something primal in him.
Before I know it, his hands are on my hips, and I’m wrapping my legs round him instantly.
Harry carries me inside, kicking the door shut behind us with a force that rattles the frame, his mouth never leaving mine. There’s an anger to his touch but a desperation to mark me as his. And I am. Mind. Body. Soul. Touch.
He sets me down, backing me against the kitchen counter. His cock is already hard against my hip, straining through his jeans. “Gigi,” he whispers, low and gravelly.
I’m desperate for him in a way that scares me.
His hands are everywhere – gripping my waist, sliding under my shirt, thumbs brushing my nipples.
I pull at his jeans, freeing his cock eagerly.
It’s thick and hot in my grip, veins pulsing as I stroke him, my thumb smearing the pre-cum over the tip.
He hisses at the contact, his eyes locked on mine, filled with that mix of love and lust that makes my chest tighten.
That breaks him. He lifts me onto the counter in one swift motion, the cold stone shocking my bare skin as the shirt bunches up round my waist. His hands slide up my thighs, his body pressing against mine as I pump his cock, feeling him pulse against my palm.
He moans. Fucking moans. And it’s the most mouthwatering sound.
“Fuck, I’ve missed you so much.” I can hear the desperation in his voice, like he’s been starving for this. “Spread your legs for me, baby.”
His lips move to my jaw, his teeth grazing, leaving a trail of bites that’s instantly soothed by his tongue. I tilt my head back, exposing more of myself to him, and pump my fist faster, needing him now.
“I need you.” My voice is a mix of warning and plea, but he doesn’t stop. “Please.”
His hand darts to my waist, pulling me to the edge of the counter. I spread my thighs further, as he asked, brushing his wet tip against the centre of my thong, feeling my arousal seeping through it.
His grip turns desperate, and he tugs at the collar of my shirt.
The cool air is replaced by his mouth as he kisses my collarbone, his tongue flicking out. The stitching rips, his mouth following the bare skin. I run my hands up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. He yanks his shirt over his head, revealing muscles slick with sweat.
Voice lethal, he demands, “Ring. Off.”
He takes my hand, harsh enough to show his determination but not enough to hurt, and tugs off the engagement ring. He launches it across the room. It hits the wall with a defined clink.
Before I can even think, his hands are on my face, tilting it up to meet his, and then his mouth is crashing against mine again. He kisses me with such force that I forget how to do anything else.
His tongue sweeps in, his fingers finding the edge of my underwear. “You’re not going anywhere,” he growls against my lips, his breath hot.
Harry doesn’t hesitate, sliding two digits inside me without warning. I cry out, my hips bucking against his hand, fingers clutching at his shoulders, nails breaking skin.
His head drops down, drawing my nipple into his mouth, my shirt now shredded and torn.
I tilt my chin towards the ceiling, one hand clinging to the back of his head.
But we’re a mess of wandering hands, and he draws back, burying his face in my neck, matching my groan as he buries his fingers into me, knuckles-deep, curling them up in a “come here” motion.
“You’re mine,” he pants against my neck, his voice strained. “Only mine.”
And I believe it, lost in the haze of ecstasy.
“Yours,” I whisper, my voice breaking.
His thumb draws circles on my clit that make me squirm against the counter, his fingers still brushing the sensitive spot inside. I reach for him, pushing his jeans down enough to free him fully, his hard cock lying flat against his stomach.
“I need you,” I say it again. There’s no mistaking the desperation in my voice. “Now.”
I look into his eyes, seeing the hunger there. My hips buck forwards onto his fingers, pulling a growl from the base of his throat.
He breathes, “Hips up for me.”
I follow his command, lifting my hips from the surface and whining at the loss of contact. He tosses my underwear aside, positioning himself, the tip of him brushing against my entrance. I wrap my legs tighter round his hips, pulling him closer.
The words tumble out before I can second-guess them. “Don’t stop.”
It’s a plea, and he obeys, thrusting into me in one smooth, powerful motion that makes me cry out. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and a slight sting as he fills me completely. His forehead presses against mine, our breaths mingling as we adjust to the intensity.
“Fucking hell, baby,” he groans, his voice restrained.
He obliges my request, each thrust coming deeper as he lifts my leg up higher on his waist, building a rhythm that has me gripping the edge of the counter for support. His hips slam into mine, each thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing through me.
The counter shakes under us as he pounds into me, each hard thrust knocking the breath from my lungs.
I pull desperately at his shoulders, pulling him onto the counter with me. He settles between my legs, drawing my knees up to my chest then linking my thighs round his waist. He doesn’t hold back. His hands move to my hips, holding them steady.
“You’re beautiful. You know that, right?”
I hesitate. “Harry—”
He pounds into me so deeply my whole body trembles. The cry catches in my throat, and I can’t breathe.
Oh fuck.
He holds me tightly as he slams his hips forwards, deep and unrelenting, his other hand tangled in my hair, pulling just enough to make my scalp sting.
His voice is rough with emotion. “Mine.”
Tears prick at my eyes, because I am Harry’s, completely, even if it’s wrong.
“I’m … yours,” I choke out, my words broken by the rhythm of his thrusts.
Teeth meet my shoulder, my throat, my collarbone – everywhere. He moves his arms, curling them round my shoulders. His knee nudges my thighs up higher, higher, until I’m curled so far inward my ass isn’t even on the counter. He thrusts with a force that’s animalistic.
I reach forwards, gripping the backs of his thighs, his skin slapping against me with each powerful movement. He can’t decide if he wants his hands on my shoulders, my thighs, my hips—
“Fuck,” he curses.
He brings his hands down, fisting my ass in both his hands and spreading me, curling my hips even further inwards in a way that has me scared for his next move.
Harry smirks then – that wicked, knowing smile that makes my stomach flip.
Our lips collide in a messy, frantic kiss, tongues tangling.
He angles his hips and drives forwards, hitting my G-spot, making stars burst behind my eyelids.
He fucks me with such force that I’m nothing but a mess beneath him.
My lips part on a scream—
Harry draws back, curling his hand over my mouth. I moan into his palm with each of his thrusts, the tightness coiling in my abdomen. I cling to him, my nails raking down his back.
His lips brush the shell of my ear. “Good girl.”
I pry his hand off my mouth and tilt my chin up, panting my whimpers into his neck. His mouth vibrates with every groan, every “fuck”, and every growl of my name. My chest tightens with the familiarity of him, the way his body is so near after so long.
“I’m close,” I whimper.
He responds by sliding a hand between us, his thumb finding that sensitive spot and circling with pressure. I bite down into his neck, my hands in his hair pulling him closer as waves of pleasure ripple through me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, sparks of colour bursting behind my closed lids. His lips meet mine, swallowing the sound of my release as he buries himself to the hilt and spills into me, his body shuddering against mine.
My heart is still slamming against my ribcage by the time we’re both finally coming down, bodies spent and wrecked.
“Oh my God,” I pant.
My hands slide over his broad shoulders, fingers digging in as if to hold onto the moment. I look up at Harry, the way he’s still struggling to suck in a breath. All I can think is how much I want to reach out and trace the lines of his face.
His broad chest rises and falls, a sheen of sweat making it glisten as he catches himself beside my head. He looks down at me with utter submission.
“I love you so fucking much,” he pants, each breath uneven.
And God, I love him back, with a fire that burns through all the lies I’ve told.
I bury my face in his chest. He wraps his arm round my shoulders, keeping me close, his other arm lightly trembling from keeping himself aloft. He persists, holding me still, our bodies locked together, breath mingling.
My fingers twitch against his chest, digging in further. I can feel the fear rising in my throat, sharp and bitter, as I imagine the consequences. Harry’s life on the edge because I couldn’t keep my hands to myself.
“Tell me.” His voice is a raspy whisper. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
The words bubble up inside of me, desperate to spill out. I swallow them down, knowing they’ll only shatter this fragile moment. Instead I tilt up my chin, sliding my fingers into his messy black hair.
He responds instantly, tugging me closer until there’s the familiar feeling of nothing between us. Not even air. Our mouths meet, deep, hungry, and unrestrained, as our bodies press together.
The world blurs at the edges, and we give in to each other again.