Chapter 21 #2
Harper disappeared toward the far hallway, and I forced myself to stay in the conversation at the table for a few minutes, though my mind was elsewhere. When the timing felt right, I stood up. “I’m going to grab a drink refresh. Anyone want anything?”
I didn’t wait long for an answer, slipping out the same door Harper had used. The hallway was dimly lit, the sounds of the party muffled behind me. I walked slowly, scanning the corridor.
One of the bathroom doors creaked open, and Harper’s head poked out, her gaze darting around. She didn’t seem to see me at first, then her eyes landed on me. Without a word, she grabbed my arm and yanked me inside, shutting the door firmly behind us.
I barely had time to process what was happening before she turned the lock with a click. The air in the room felt immediately charged.
I took a breath, but it didn’t help. She was standing just inches away, her back to the door, her cheeks flushed pink, her chest rising and falling too fast to be calm.
“Harper–” I started, the word dying in my throat when I really looked at her.
The dim bathroom light caught the shimmer of her dress, the wild softness of her hair, the way she was chewing on her bottom lip like she was trying to keep herself from doing something reckless.
Or maybe from not doing it.
I took a step toward her, the soft hum of the music and the chatter from the party fading into nothing. My hand rose on instinct, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering closed for half a second, like even that was too much.
“That dress,” I murmured, my fingers lingering near her cheek. “Harper, you look incredible. I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you all night.” My voice dipped lower, filling with unrestrained desire.
A cheeky, playful smile curved her lips, and she tilted her head.
I stepped in, closing the distance until the scent of her–sweet vanilla and something uniquely her–wrapped around me.
My hand stayed on her cheek, thumb brushing the soft skin there, and I let my gaze fall to her mouth.
Her breath hitched, her own eyes flicking down to my lips like she couldn’t help it.
I didn’t move closer. Not yet. I just stood there, silently waiting, giving her every chance to step back.
She didn’t.
Instead, she leaned in, so slow it made my pulse pound, until there was barely an inch left between us.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for weeks,” I whispered, my voice rough enough that it almost didn’t sound like mine.
Her lips parted, her eyes locked on mine. “Then what are you waiting for?”
That was all it took. I reached for her, sliding my hand to the back of her neck and pulling her in gently, slowly–like I needed the moment to last. Our foreheads brushed.
Our noses bumped. And then her lips found mine.
They were soft, warm, and as she melted into me, pressing her body against mine, my head spun.
Her hands curled into my shirt as I deepened the kiss, still trying to be careful, still trying not to come undone. But the moment she sighed against my mouth, I was gone.
My palms slid down over the glittering fabric, the tiny sequins catching faint light as I gripped the hem.
The sparkly red material didn’t give easily, so I gathered it in my fists, bunching it higher until her legs were free.
Then my arms locked around her waist and I lifted her–her legs instinctively wrapping around me like she’d always belonged there.
She gasped against my mouth, and I took the opportunity to trail kisses down her jawline to her neck, where her pulse fluttered wildly beneath my lips.
I carried her to the sink counter, setting her down gently as her fingers tangled in my hair.
My hands roamed her back, fingers gliding over warm, bare skin where the open back of her dress left nothing except her.
As I kissed the hollow of her throat, I slid my fingers along her collarbone, the heat of her skin sending a shiver through me.
Her hands left my hair, fumbling for the buttons of my shirt.
I felt her struggling with the first one, her brows knitting in frustrated concentration.
With a low chuckle, I reached down and made quick work of them myself, the fabric falling open.
Her palms slid inside without hesitation, warm hands roaming over my chest before gliding down my stomach, her nails scraping lightly over the ridges of muscle.
The feel of her touch–curious, hungry–nearly had me losing my grip on the moment entirely.
She leaned back slightly, giving me better access as I pushed the delicate sleeves of her dress off her shoulders. Her skin was golden, warm, and utterly irresistible. My lips followed the path of my hands, brushing over her collarbones and the curve of her shoulder.
“Ryan,” she breathed, her voice shaky yet filled with need. Hearing my name like that, on her lips, was almost undoing. Pulling back slightly, I met her gaze again, her eyes darkened with the same want I felt burning in my chest.
“Tell me if I need to stop,” I said, my voice rough as I held her gaze, my hands steady but revenant on her waist.
Her reply was soft yet certain, her lips brushing against mine. “Don’t stop.”
Something inside me shattered the moment those words left her lips. Don’t Stop. The soft, certain command ignited a fire in me that burned hotter than I thought possible. Any semblance of control I had left dissolved in an instant.
My hands found the neckline of her dress, pulling it down and exposing her perfect, smooth skin.
Her breasts spilled free, and I was mesmerized for a brief second before instinct took over.
I leaned forward, capturing one in my mouth, my tongue flicking over the sensitive peak while my other hand caressed and kneaded the other.
Her head fell back against the mirror, a soft cry escaping her lips that she quickly stifled, her fingers threading through my hair and pulling me closer. Her skin was warm under my hands, her body trembling beneath my touch, and it made me dizzy with the need to give her more.
I kissed my way down her body, tasting the soft curve of her stomach, as I slid her dress farther up her thighs. She gasped when I hitched fabric higher, bunching it around her waist.
I knelt in front of her, pulling her close to the edge of the counter. I grabbed one of her legs, pulling it up to rest on my shoulder as I pressed kisses to the inside of her thigh, savoring the way her breathing hitched, the way her fingers gripped the counter beside her.
“Ryan,” she whispered, her voice breaking on my own name.
It was everything I needed to hear. Everything I wanted.
My hands tightened on her hips as I tilted my head to look up at her, her flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes driving me to the brink of madness.
“You are so beautiful,” I murmured against her skin before lowering myself, every nerve in my body on fire.
The moment my fingers found her, I could feel how wet she was, her arousal soaking into me like a silent invitation.
I teased her first, slow and deliberate, watching her lips part, her breath stuttering like she couldn’t quite keep up with what I was doing to her.
It was almost enough to drive me over the edge right then and there.
When I finally slid my fingers inside, the sound she made was pure sin.
Her hips bucked, desperate, and I curled my fingers just right, earning a sharp cry that echoed too loud in the small bathroom.
Without thinking, I covered her mouth with my other hand, muffling her moan as her eyes went wide with surprise and raw pleasure.
“Shh,” I murmured against her thigh, my lips brushing her heated skin. “You’re going to get us caught, Harper.”
Her answer was another muffled whimper, her body writhing against me, completely beyond her own control.
I pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, then another, each one moving higher.
Her skin was warm under my lips, flushed from arousal, and every little shiver that ran through her went straight to my chest.
I lingered there, close enough that my breath fanned over her, watching her hips shift restlessly like she was silently begging me to close the distance. “Harper…” I murmured, my voice low and rough. “Are you going to come for me?”
She tried to answer, but only a shaky, desperate sound escaped her. Not even a word–just a whimper that made my own restraint snap another thread.
I groaned against her, letting my mouth finally replace my hand, my tongue stroking her in slow, deep, passes that made her knees tremble against my shoulders.
The taste of her hit me instantly–sweet, intoxicating.
My fingers slid back in, curling exactly where I knew she needed me, the combination making her whole body tense and arch.
Every muffled gasp she gave into my palm sent a rush of heat through me, each sound like fuel.
She was close–I could feel it in the way her thighs quivered, in the way she was clinging to me like I was the only thing keeping her from falling apart. I eased up just enough to pull another needy sound from her, my tongue teasing, my fingers holding her right on the knife’s edge.
“Ready?” I breathed against her, my voice vibrating through her.
She made another choked, desperate noise, her head tipping back, every muscle in her body drawn tight. I didn’t make her wait any longer. I pushed her over with a slow, firm drag of my tongue paired with the perfect pressure of my fingers.
Her climax tore through her like a wave breaking–sudden, overwhelming, unstoppable.
She bucked against me, her fingers tangled in my hair, holding me to her as if she needed me to feel every pulse, every quake.
I kept her there, kept drawing it out until she was gasping into my hand, her body trembling so hard I had to steady her.