Chapter 41
Harper
I reach the whiskey bottle and add a finger. Then add three cubes of ice. Just the way he likes it. I turn to find him standing right behind me.
"Oh, I didn’t hear you."
"I’m light-footed." He takes a step forward, so I step back.
My back hits the counter. I gasp, looking up into his eyes. "What are you doing?" I whisper.
He takes the glass from me, then takes a sip, before setting it aside. He lowers his head, and when I open my mouth, he dribbles the whiskey into my mouth. The taste of oak and caramel combined with the burn of alcohol warms my palate.
I swallow, and then his mouth is on mine. Hard lips. The feel of his tongue plundering my mouth. I moan. Instantly, he grabs me under my thighs and places me on the counter.
I lock my legs around him. He wraps his arm around my back, bending me over it as he deepens the kiss.
I feel the impact to the tips of my toes, to the ends of my hair strands.
My fingertips tingle. My skin itches with the need to get closer.
I throw my arms around him and lean in as close as I can.
He makes a growling noise at the back of his throat. All the cells in my body seem to wake up. I kiss him back with an ardor I've never experienced before. I want to crawl under his skin and fuse myself to him. I whimper, grab the front of his shirt and tug.
The world tilts.
He pushes me down onto the counter, on my back, continuing to kiss me.
He cups my breast through the shirt I’m wearing.
Heat from his palm makes it feel like he’s branding me.
I strain to lift up, but suddenly, he has his fingers around my throat, holding me down.
I gasp, staring into those blue eyes which have gone almost indigo with lust. He wants me. He really wants me.
He squeezes gently, and it’s like my blood has turned to gasoline, and someone lit a match in my veins. The jolt of sensations takes me by surprise. I moan.
The sound seems to snap him out of the sexual haze he’s fallen into. His eyes clear. He pulls away and looks down at where he has his fingers around my throat. He begins to loosen them, but I place my hand on his. "I like it."
He hesitates. "You…like it?"
"I do."
He searches my face as if trying to figure out if there’s any other meaning behind the words I’m saying. I need to reassure him that he’s not hurting me when he applies pressure around my throat like that.
"That night when you began to choke me in your bed, I knew you’d never hurt me. I knew you’d stop before it got dangerous. But also… Also, it made me feel things deep inside."
I place my palm over my lower belly.
"Things I didn’t know I wanted to feel. Things that disturbed me and aroused me at the same time."
He rubs his thumb over the side of my throat. My heart flips. My pulse races. I can feel the ridge of his cock through the fabric of his pants and mine. And it feels heavy. And good. So good.
"I want this." I search his features. "I do."
"Want what?" His gaze is both interested and shuttered.
"I want to find out how it’ll feel when you choke me when we…fuck."
A plethora of expressions sweeps across his face. Lust tempered by caution and maybe, some guilt.
"You didn’t hurt me that day."
His brow furrows. "There were bruises around your throat."
"Best jewelry ever."
His pupils dilate. He seems both turned on and also fighting not to be turned on.
I tip up my chin. “I liked seeing the proof of how much you wanted me."
His throat moves as he swallows. He seems torn. "I don’t want to trigger you."
"You won’t. I know you’ll be careful. That you’ll be slow with me. I know you’ll check in to make sure I’m not scared."
"And are you?"
I shake my head. "I’m excited. And curious. I want to find out how it’ll feel."
"I can’t risk losing control with you."
I chuckle. "James Hamilton losing control? That’s impossible."
"You make it possible." His mouth twists. "I’m here, bending you over my kitchen counter, one step away from fucking you."
His words are self-deprecating. But there’s a thread of wonder running through it. It lifts my heart. Makes me want him to open himself more to me.
"I am your safe place, James. You can be anything with me. You can do anything to me. You won’t find any judgment from me."
His eyes widen. He seems to be struggling with making sense of what he’s feeling. Then he slowly helps me sit up. He steps back, straightens my clothes, and disappointment squeezes my belly.
He must sense it, for he kisses my forehead. "I want you, Ember. But… It’s my responsibility to keep you safe. I need to manage the triggers that my PTSD brings up, so I’m never a threat to you. What happened that day in my bed wasn’t consensual. I took you by surprise."
"And I wanted more."
He frowns.
"I still do, James."
He searches my features more, then slowly nods. "Okay." He helps me down from the counter. "But I will evaluate all the scenarios and determine when it’s safe for you.”
He puts away the ice cream tub, rinses my spoon and his tumbler, putting them in the dishwasher. Then he leads me to the staircase.
When we reach my bedroom, he bends and kisses me on my forehead. "Sleep well."
I step inside, shutting the door behind me.
Then hang my head. I slide my fingers around my throat and squeeze.
I don’t feel anything. I can’t fool my body.
Only James can elicit those deep, dark feelings that burn me up, and whisper that what I want is taboo, which only heightens the anticipation of what's to come.
I yawn, lower my hand and head for the en suite. I barely make it through the shower before I fall into bed.
My last thought is…I need to find a way to put him at ease. So the next time there’s a chance of breath play, he won’t hesitate.