Chapter 12 #3
When he notices I’m frozen by the door, Harley lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a sip, his eyes burning my skin.
He offers it to me, and I snap out of my trance to close the distance between us and take it.
It’s nearly empty so I finish the last of it, feeling the warmth spread through my limbs.
I’m going to shame myself if I don’t sort my shit out, and fast, because he’s too fucking hot, too tempting, too much, and he’s standing right there in front of me as he watches my every move.
“Do you have pajamas here or do we need to go back to—” My voice dries up as Harley reaches behind his head to pull his shirt off.
Holy.
Fuck.
His eyes stay fixed on mine as he reaches down to unbutton his jeans, and my entire body spontaneously combusts.
There’s too much whiskey coursing through my blood to stop myself from moaning when he smirks and drops the jeans to the floor, kicking them away so all he is left wearing are his boxers.
Fuck , he has too much skin on display for my brain to process.
I’m shaking, my body trembling with the intimacy and intensity of the moment.
It’s like everything has ceased to exist except for us.
I want him so fucking bad.
“Are you just going to stare, Mounty, or are you gonna do something?” he taunts, and I shiver. I think I’m going to do something. Wait, I know I’m going to do something.
I strip with the same efficiency he did, until I’m standing before him in my bra and panties.
Thank God I bothered to wear nice ones, matching black with a tiny bit of lace.
His eyes never drop down to my body but his throat works as he swallows roughly.
I know I’m covered in scars but I don’t feel ashamed of them when he looks at me the way he is.
He waits for a second, like he’s making sure I’m with him, and then he pounces.
He grabs me by the backs of my thighs and lifts me up into his body like I weigh nothing.
I wrap my legs around his waist to hold on and my arms wind around his neck as he claims my lips.
I know that’s exactly what he’s doing, he’s claiming me.
I open my mouth to his, groaning as his tongue sweeps in, and I melt.
He is so unbelievably hot, his skin pressing against me, burning me until I’m sweating and shaking. I tug at his bottom lip with my teeth and his hands move to my ass and squeeze. I wiggle and he breaks away from the kiss to murmur, “Bed?”
I’m not thinking, I don’t want to think ever again, so I nod and all but drag his lips back to mine.
He sits on my bed and holds me over him until I can tuck myself into his lap comfortably, straddling him.
We pause for a second, panting and staring at each other before Harley cups my face gently.
His eyes are soft, something I’ve never seen on him before, and my breath hitches in my throat but before I can think, he pulls me back into his lips.
He kisses me like I’m a drug he’s desperate for, and I kiss him back like he’s the only air I’ll ever need to breathe.
I move my hips until I feel the rigid length of his dick pressing against my panties.
Good Lord, he is so fucking hard and I gulp at the size.
I do not want to be torn in half for my first time and I’m about to pull away, but then he sucks the skin just below my ear and my hips rock in response.
Nothing else matters except what his lips are doing to me.
I grind down onto him and savor every grunt and moan he gives me.
He’s only wearing his boxers so there are two thin layers of fabric separating us, and my eyes roll back into my head at the thought.
I can feel how wet I am, soaking through my panties and leaving a damp spot on Harley’s boxers. I tug at his hair and moan softly.
“Fuck,” he mumbles as he drags his lips away from my shoulder. “This isn’t how I wanted to do this. You’ve had too much to drink.”
Whether it’s the alcohol or his mouth, the jury is out.
I don’t feel drunk until he says that, and now I feel lightheaded and rejected.
I pull away from him sharply, snatching my arms back from where they’re pressed into his chest, but he keeps his hands circling my waist. He pulls his knees up to push me back into his chest and moves a hand to gently stroke the hair away from my face while he scowls at me.
“Don’t freak out. I’m just saying I don’t think we should do anything more than make out when we’ve finished a bottle of whiskey between us.”
Dammit. Damn him to hell, he’s being fucking reasonable. How can I argue with that?! I don’t want to take this further, not really, because he doesn’t do commitment and I don’t want casual for my first time. I don’t want to be another Mounty girl used and thrown away. Urgh. Why?!
“You’re right. We should stop.”
Harley nods like we’ve come to an agreement, only then he cradles my face in his hands again and kisses me slowly until I can’t breathe.
Well, if he isn’t the most confusing guy on the freaking planet I don’t know who is, but my mind turns off again and I lose myself in his lips.
I shift my weight, rocking my hips just a fraction, and he pulls away.
“Nope. No. We’ll stop. If you can’t kiss me without grinding on my dick like that, we have to stop.”
I groan at him and collapse on the bed beside him. Rude. “You’re the one that stripped.”
He scoffs at me and I swear he mumbles, “I had to get your attention somehow.”
But that doesn’t make any sense to my whiskey-soaked brain so I brush it off.
Clearly, he isn’t taking his celibacy very seriously.
I wonder why he’s even doing it. He could easily find a replacement for Annabelle.
Maybe he wants me to be his regular casual hookup.
I mean, I room with his cousin so he has access to me without drawing suspicion from other girls.
My eyes drift shut while I hypothesize Harley’s sex life.
I feel the blankets being pulled up around me, and a hand brushing my hair back from my face.
“I can’t fuck a Hannaford boy,” I remind myself, and then I pass out.