Chapter Eleven
“What?” Harrison asked when I set my fork down and glared at him.
“It’s not enough that you’re rich, educated, worldly, and handsome; you have to be a good cook too?”
A little chuckle escaped him at that.
“You think I’m handsome, huh?”
I rolled my eyes at that.
“Please, I wouldn’t have invited you back to my room if I didn’t think you were attractive.”
That was the wrong thing to say.
Harrison’s eyes warmed as memories surfaced.
Heat bloomed through my core.
“So, can you only make pasta?” I asked, wishing my glass of water was wine all of a sudden.
“Not just pasta, no. But just about everything I know how to cook is Italian. Our housekeeper was Italian. She had seven siblings and six kids. The whole family got together in the summer to make enough pasta sauce to can for the year.”
“Are you close with her still?”
“We’re in contact. But she’s retired and spending time with her grandchildren now.”
“I bet she’s proud of what you’ve accomplished.”
“Eh, she’s not impressed by money. She’s forever on my ass about gaining weight, getting married, and having half a dozen babies.”
“Do you want half a dozen babies?”
“I want kids. But that sounds excessive. Especially if I continue living in the city.”
“Right. Because this place is so tiny,” I said, gesturing broadly. “What is the square footage of this place?”
“Just under six thousand square feet.”
“Wait… what? No way. With just the three bedrooms?”
“I think you missed part of the tour,” he said.
He pushed out of his seat and waited for me to do the same.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I fell into step beside him.
“This,” he said when he got to one of the doors in the hallway, “is a pocket door.”
He pushed the door into the wall between the study and the first bedroom.
Then we were walking down a short hallway to another bedroom, a small sitting room, and a back balcony. A balcony with, I kid you not, a pool.
“Oh, come on,” I said, shaking my head at him. “A pool on a balcony? That’s a ridiculous kind of opulence.”
“To be fair, it was here when I bought the place.”
“Do you ever actually use it?”
“I do. In the fall and winter, I run for cardio. In the spring and summer, I swim.”
“I hate running. My cousins and aunts make me do it, but I hate it.”
“No runner’s high?”
“I think I have something opposite. Like ‘runner’s hate’ maybe. By the time I’m done, I make honey badgers seem friendly.”
“You’d rather be kicking someone’s ass, huh?”
“I told you about that?”
“That you’ve been trained in mixed martial arts since you were a toddler? Yeah, it came up.”
“I only do actual martial arts in my hometown. When I’m traveling, I take cardio kickboxing classes.”
“Well, you don’t need any more martial arts practice, that’s for sure.”
“Oh, no. Did I flip someone over my shoulder?” I asked. It was something I’d done a time or two with handsy men in bars.
“You did. Me.”
“What? Why? What’d you do?”
“Dared to question that you could do it,” he said, smiling. “I think I still have a bruise on my ass from how hard I fell.”
There was a flash. Barely a memory at all. Just a quick image of Harrison on the ground, eyes wide.
“Was that before or after the ceremony?”
“That was after the ceremony but before the lobster.”
“That didn’t get us kicked out of the casino?”
“Hands may have been greased. Plus, the pit boss really seemed fond of you.”
“I’ve been going to the casinos for years,” I said, shrugging that off. Even though my relationships with the workers on the strip were really important to me.
Up that high, the wind felt colder and more intense, making a shiver rack my system.
“Come on. Let’s get you warmed up,” Harrison said, his hand sliding across my lower back.
A current shot through me.
My breath sucked in.
My head whipped over.
And he was right there.
My skin tingled with memory.
Seeming to sense the change, Harrison’s free hand rose, gently tucking my hair behind my ear.
Then, when I didn’t pull away, his fingers lingered, slid down my jaw, and slipped behind my neck.
His warm hand on my cool skin made another, different kind of shiver course through me.
My gaze held his, watching the intent there just a second before his head tilted and his lips met mine.
He kissed me like he meant to brand me with it. It was all heat and want and promises.
He kissed me like he had something to prove.
I decided to let him.
My hand slid up his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt collar. His arm snaked around me, tightening around my back, and pulling me flush to his chest.
I melted into it all: the kiss, the desire, him.
My lips parted on a moan, and his tongue slipped inside to sweep over mine. Slow at first, then hungrier as I whimpered.
My arms slid around his neck, pulling him tight.
Then we were moving.
Harrison walked me backward.
I pressed back against the cool glass of the door as his teeth snagged my lower lip, pulling until a throaty moan escaped my lips.
He broke the kiss, his head dipping to press his lips to my neck.
Little sparks exploded across my skin, each nerve ending poised, waiting for touch.
He was happy to oblige.
His lips kissed, his tongue traced, and his teeth grazed.
My hands were greedy, sliding down over his arms, down his back, sinking into his ass.
Harrison’s hand slid up the back of my neck, fingers slipping into my hair, curling, and tugging until a pain/pleasure sensation teased across my scalp.
At my moan, Harrison shifted closer, the hard demand of him pressing against my stomach.
His lips sucked at my neck as my hand moved down, palming his hardness through his slacks.
He groaned against my lips, his hips rocking against my hand, chasing every brush of my palm.
Then he pushed me back, forcing the door open behind me before slamming me back against the wall in the hallway.
His hands were everywhere then.
Slipping down my back, sinking into my ass, then gliding up under my shirt—cool fingers on warm skin—until his hand closed over my breast.
My moan drifted down the hallway as his hand yanked down the front of my bra and closed over me without the barrier.
He cupped me, squeezed. Then his fingers circled, flicked, pinched.
My hand shifted up, working at the clasp of his belt before pulling it free and focusing on his button and zipper as he moved across my chest to continue the sweet torment.
I was already shaky with need, the pressure tightening in my core.
Before I could reach inside and close my hand around his length, he was pulling just out of reach.
He pulled off my jacket, dropping it to the ground at our feet. Then his fingers were at the hem of my shirt, drawing it up until it, too, was forgotten on the floor.
My barely-there leisure bra was next, the front clasp worked free, my breasts free with one flick.
A low groan built deep inside Harrison as his gaze dipped, as he took me in.
He stared so long I started to shift my feet.
But then his head dipped, his soft hair whispering over my skin as he sucked my nipple into his mouth.
My hand slapped to the back of his neck, holding him against me as he sucked and sucked and sucked until I arched into the sensation.
Then it was all tongue and teeth, the tension coiling tighter and tighter.
His head shifted, lips and tongue and teeth continuing to drive my need higher.
Even the brush of his warm breath dragged like silk over bare skin—soft, slow, and too much.
“Harrison,” I whimpered.
I wasn’t sure what I was asking for, but he heard the need; he knew how to ease it.
His head shifted between my breasts, his lips kissing lower and lower as he dropped to his knees in front of me.
Heat pooled low in my belly, a heavy, liquid ache, as he tilted his head up, his molten gaze watching my reaction as his hands worked my button and zipper free, then dragged my pants and panties down my legs.
Once I stepped out of them, his hand glided up the back of my calf before grabbing me behind my knee and lifting my leg off the ground.
My hips arched without thinking, leaning closer, silently begging for more as he rested my leg over his shoulder.
Then he was where I needed him most, his tongue tracing up the core of me.
My breath caught and flipped, like it tripped over its own need as a shaky whimper escaped me.
My hands went to the back of his neck as his tongue started to work my clit, unraveling me with every flick.
My gasp told him where to touch, and he didn’t hesitate.
I was caught somewhere between gasping and begging, teetering on the edge of something too sharp to name as time bent, stretched, suspended, leaving me hovering in that breathless in-between.
The pleasure bloomed so violently it stole my thoughts, stripped me bare as I came apart, hips jerking, toes curling, body surrendering to the rush.
I was left gasping afterward, my muscles shaking as his head shifted, kissing my inner thigh, then moving up my belly.
I felt perfectly off-balance as the world narrowed to nothing but him.
Harrison claimed my lips again, his kiss hungrier, more demanding. And I was happy to give him whatever he wanted.
My hands moved between us, working his buttons free one by one. Then I pushed the material off his shoulders and pressed myself to his chest.
My skin pricked.
My breath caught and flipped.
It was too much, and not nearly enough.
As if sensing the thought, Harrison reached for me, turned me, pressed his chest to my back.
Then his hands were moving over me again, brushing, squeezing, flicking.
One hand slid between my thighs, thumb teasing my clit as two fingers thrust inside me.
My cry spread through my chest before bursting out—needy, desperate.
He gave me just what I needed, his fingers thrusting hard, deep, fast.
My head fell back on his shoulder, my lips pressing together, muffling my sounds.
“No,” he said, voice rough and velvety at the same time, “don’t hide it. I want to hear what I’m doing to you.”
A pleasant ache bloomed where restraint used to be.
And then I let him know how much I liked what he was doing, my whimpers and moans and quiet pleading filling the hallway as he kept thrusting his fingers inside me.
“Harrison, please,” I cried, reaching backward. My hand reached into his pants, closing around the hard proof of his desire and stroking him. “Please,” I begged.
A throaty groan escaped him as he reached back, fiddling with his wallet until he found protection.
I lost his fingers, but the disappointment was softened by the knowledge of getting something infinitely better.
Finished protecting us, he shifted closer. His thickness nudged me open. Then he pressed into me with a low growl that was muffled by my cry.
Every nerve screamed for more.
And he was happy to oblige, his hips dropping, then rocking back into me, making me feel each thick inch.
His hand moved between my thighs, working my clit as he moved inside me, his movements getting more insistent with each passing second.
Thinking felt optional right then, but something in me screamed that it was dangerous to want this much, to need someone so entirely.
But I had no choice but to surrender to the sensations coursing through me.
“Harrison,” I whimpered, though I didn’t know what I was asking for.
“Say my name like that again,” he demanded, his teeth nipping my earlobe.
“Harrison,” I cried, that deep, hard first pulse of pleasure.
My body clenched around him.
Then the pleasure broke.
I gave in to it completely, lost in the flood of sensation and need.
Each inhale felt charged, like breathing too close to a flame, but I couldn’t resist the heat.
Harrison’s arms slid around me after, pulling me to his chest, his head dipping to press a soft, searching kiss to my lips.
It took a long time to realize he was still stiff inside me.
My walls clenched at the realization, making a deep growl move through Harrison.
“I’m not done with you,” he said, kissing me harder.
I whimpered against his lips.
Sensing the need climbing again, he stepped backward, moving me away from the wall, then pressing my upper half down.
I pushed my palms against the wall, sensing the snap in his control, knowing that if I didn’t brace myself, my face would be slamming against it in no time.
Both his hands slid to my hips.
Then he was slipping back and slamming deep, his hands yanking my hips back with the thrust, forcing me to take every inch of him.
And I moaned at the stretch, at the warmth, at the way he seemed to be coming undone with each passing second.
I hinged further downward, the angle making him slide against that perfect spot inside, the sensation making me groan low and deep.
That rumble moved through Harrison again as he took me harder, faster, the sounds of our bodies mingling with our ragged breath and deep moans as we both rose higher and higher.
He clung to me.
I clung to the wall.
But no amount of bracing could save us from the edge.
Then, together, we were falling, crashing, shattering.
My breath hitched in halves. My body trembled. My throat ached from crying out.
All the while he was there, pulling me back against him, putting me together again as I fell apart.
“You’re okay,” he murmured, his warm breath on my ear. “I’ve got you.”
For just a moment, I let him.
Have me.
Hold me.
But reality came back in scattered pieces, sliding together to create a picture that got clearer and clearer by the moment.
Until the sensation faded.
And all that was left was something, if not quite regret, then a close cousin.
Because sex was certainly not going to help my case for a divorce. Especially really good sex. And that was really good sex.
“Lost you already,” Harrison said, his lips pressing a sweet kiss to my neck before slowly releasing me.
There was a sinking sensation in my chest as I stepped away to quickly get myself dressed again.
I didn’t realize until I turned back that I was alone, that Harrison had walked away while my back was turned.
I tried to tell myself that it was for the best, but that sinking feeling only increased until I was leaning against the wall, my palms pressed against my eyes.
Well.
That had gotten out of hand.
But we were both adults.
It didn’t need to be a whole thing.
Even if there was a hollow feeling in my chest.
I could still turn this day around.
I straightened my hair before making my way back into the apartment.
Harrison was just hitting the button on the dishwasher when I came back into the kitchen, silently leaving my rings on the counter and ignoring the sudden nakedness I felt without them.
“Harrison.”
He sucked in a deep breath before he turned.
“Sign the papers.”
I didn’t give him a chance to say anything else to that.
I turned and made my way out of the apartment.
And hoped for the best.
But knowing better.