Chapter 67
Harper
"You love me?" I cup his jaw, my thumb tracing the line of his cheek. "You actually love me?”
"I really do.” He leans in until our chests almost touch. "I spent my life building the rules by which I lived. They made the world stop spinning so fast. But I'd rather live in the chaos with you than be safe in the silence without you."
My heart drums against my ribs, captivated by this raw, unpolished version of him. He’s split his chest open and pulled out his heart to hand it to me. How can I resist that?
How can I turn down this vulnerability he’s sharing with me?
How can I do anything but reciprocate his complete devotion. His love. His tenderness. His ability to make me feel like I’m the only person in the world he wants by his side.
He brushes his lips over mine. A ghost of a touch, soft and sweet, yet layered with a heavy, wordless possession. Our breaths mingle in the heat between us. His scent, dark and familiar, hits me like a physical wave, making every nerve ending snap to attention.
He nips at my lower lip, a silent command, and when I open for him, he doesn't hesitate. His tongue sweeps over mine, tasting of salt and heat and something purely him. It’s so confident, so certain, that it sends a sharp, rhythmic tug of desire straight to my core.
My eyelashes brush against his, our gazes locked so tightly, it feels like we're breathing the same air, sending a jagged shiver vibrating down my spine.
I sense him pocketing the hair ties.
Then, he locks a big palm around the nape of my neck. To be held like this by the man I love signals his possessiveness. His dominance. His strength. It makes me feel secure. Happy. Loved. Perfect.
My heart feels too big for my chest. A slow, steady heat spreads under my skin, grounding me for the first time in years.
His fingers feel like a restraint, which in turn, amps up my desire.
He slants his head and licks into my mouth.
His lips cover mine, gentle yet firm. There’s an assuredness running through him.
A confidence which has always been there, but which is now edged with certainty.
Conviction. And also, additional reverence.
Almost, devotion. An openness that strikes deep in my core and causes heat to pool between my thighs.
My pussy clenches. My thighs tremble. I press in closer to him, wanting to get rid of this yawning emptiness deep within me.
But he’s holding me in place, so I’m unable to move.
I twist my body instead, trying to get my leg over his thigh. I want to ride him but don’t have the reach to do so.
A small part of me realizes we’re in the open, and that anyone could see us as they pass, but I shove that aside.
This overriding yearning inside of me digs into my skin and burrows in, firing me up in a way that makes me frantic.
I make a frustrated noise at the back of my throat.
And he must hear it, for the next moment, he hauls me up with his palms on my waist and onto his lap, so I’m straddling him.
With a groan I press in, flattening my breasts against his chest. My nipples tighten. I love this new position, where I’m at eye level with him.
He slides his big palms down to cup my arse cheeks. Sensations zip out from the point of contact.
I lock my knees on either side of his hips, fist my hands in his hair, and crash my mouth against his.
Our teeth clash. Our tongues tangle. Our noses collide. It's messy and desperate and perfect.
I breathe him in. Air and heat, the faint trace of coffee, and something darker, something purely him. Our lips fuse, our boundaries blur, and I'm not sure where I end and he begins. Like I'm dissolving into him. Like we're becoming one. Like we're—
A sharp whistle cuts through the fog.
I jolt, pulling back.
He does too, his chest heaving.
A couple of cyclists glide past, their wheels hissing in the wet mud. The sound fades.
We stare at each other. Breathing hard. His chest rises and falls in ragged rhythm.
Color burns high on his cheekbones. His eyes have turned that impossible shade of aquamarine.
The black of his pupils have blown wide, ringed in blue.
With his hair wrecked by my hands, he looks more undone than I've ever seen him.
More human.
"You drive me insane." His hands smooth over my clothes, straightening fabric that doesn't need straightening. The gesture is tender. Possessive. Both. "Come home with me."
"Home." The word catches in my throat.
"Our home." His voice drops, roughens. "Where we're together. Wherever you are is where I’ll be. You are my home." He presses his thumb to the base of my throat where my pulse hammers against his skin. "Home is where we can finish what we started."
That sounds perfect. That sounds like what I’ve been waiting my entire life to hear. That sounds like the future I’d hoped to have one day. And that day is today.
"Yes, please."
We make it to our penthouse in record time. We’re barely inside when he pushes me up against the door and slaps his hands on either side of my head.
"Hey," he whispers.
"Hey," I whisper back.
He smiles into my eyes. His features are a mix of happiness and lust, and excitement and an anticipation, which I feel in mine. We’ve made love before, but this feels like we’re going to be together, all over again, for the first time.
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch is so tender, goosebumps pop on my skin. Little fireflies of need sparkle in my bloodstream. I feel luminous. Like he’s seeing me…really seeing me. And worshipping me with his eyes. "I love you."
"I love you too."
Loud meows reach us. And purrs. We look down to find Malice winding her way between our legs. She arches her back and pushes her way between the two of us.
"Not now, Malice," he warns.
"Aww. Poor baby, she’s feeling left out."
"And what about me?" he growls.
I reach up on tiptoes and kiss his chin. I whisper sweet kisses up his cheek. He grips me under my arse and boosts me up. I wrap my legs around him and press my lips to the scar over his cheekbone. "You never told me how you got this."
"Do you really want to talk about that now?" He presses into the valley between my thighs.
Through our clothes, I feel the evidence of his desire throb against my already sensitized flesh.
The breath leaves me in a rush.
"Maybe. Later," I gasp.
He peppers kisses across my face to my ear. He sucks on my earlobe, and my eyes roll back in my head.
"That should not feel so good."
"There are other parts of you I want to suck on."
Those sparks under my skin flare into full-blown volcanoes. My blood has turned into lava, my skin melting off me and reducing me to a pile of ember. Oh God.
"Oh, James."
I shudder with desire.
"Say it," he breathes.
"Oh, James." I throw my head back.
He instantly drags his whiskered chin down the column of my throat. And when he reaches the curve of my shoulder, he tugs my sweatshirt aside and bites on the skin there.
"Ah." I feel that in my clit. I begin to grind down against him. I sense his heartbeat ramping up.
"Fuck, I need to be inside of you. I want to feel your sweet, hot pussy milking my cock. I want to fill you up with my cum and push it back inside you when it overflows your slit."
Oh God. It’s as if telling me he loves me has unlocked something inside of James. A level of trust that’s making him more vulnerable, more open, more ready to share all of himself, finally.
When I still, he scans my features. "Are you okay with that?"
"Very." I swallow. "I love it when you talk dirty to me."
His eyes flash. "You have no idea the kind of fantasies I’ve had about you over the years."
"Show me." The lust inside me coalesces into something sharper. Something more urgent. I want him. I want my husband. I need him to take me in every way possible. I need him to own me. "Fuck me."
Something shifts behind his eyes. The predatory part of him, which I’ve sensed before, seems to take over completely.
He presses a hard kiss to my mouth, then turns. He’s carrying me as he heads for the staircase.
Malice bounds up the stairs before us. She reaches the door to this bedroom, which is closed, and scratches at it.
"Nope, Malice, sorry, you’re not coming in here." He pushes her aside gently with his foot, shoulders open the door and manages to shut it behind us without Malice entering. She scratches at the door, and begins to cry.
"She’s not happy."
"Too fucking bad. Not going to share you with anyone, Wife. Not even my cat." He stalks to the bed and drops me on it.
I giggle, bounce once, then shove the hair out of my eyes. Before I can catch my breath, he covers my body with his. "Goddamn, the sounds you make."
He twists my hands above my head and curls my fingers around the headboard.
"I love it when you hold me down," I gasp.
As if to illustrate my point, he nudges my legs apart and plants his hips between my thighs.
His weight pushes me into the bed. His tightens his grip around my throat just enough that I gasp.
A shiver grips me.
He takes in my flushed features, and a sly look comes into his eyes. "I think I know exactly what you're going to love."
He releases my wrists.
I begin to lower my arms, confused. "But I thought—"
"Keep your arms where they were." His voice drops to that command tone that makes my stomach flip.
I comply at once
"Good." His hands slide down my sides, gripping my hips. "Now, here's the game. I'm not going to hold you down." His thumbs trace circles on my hip bones. "You're going to hold yourself down."
"I don't—"
"No moving your hands. No matter what I do to you." His eyes lock on mine. "If you move them, I stop. Understood?"
Oh. Oh.
"You're going to make me—"
"Restrain yourself. Yes." His mouth curves. "Because the hottest part isn't me holding you down, Harper. It's you choosing to stay pinned. Choosing to surrender control, even when you could take it back. Choosing to trust me enough to give me your very air, when you’re at my mercy.”
My breath catches.
"So." His hand slides up my ribs, thumb grazing the underside of my breast. "Can you do that for me? Can you keep those hands exactly where they are while I take you?"
I nod, not trusting my voice.
"Words, Harper."
"Yes." It comes out strangled. "Yes, I can."
"We'll see." His smile turns wicked. "Because I'm not going to make this easy."