Chapter 9
Nine
Ivy’s tiny gasp and sigh sparked a fire in Harrison’s blood.
He didn’t remember kissing her this morning. Not really. He’d been too much in his head, still partly dreaming. But he would remember this. The gradual surrender as she melted into him, her hands curling into the front of his shirt, the silk of her hair in his fingers.
He wanted her to remember it, too, so he took his time, exploring her lips and drinking in every little nuance.
As he traced the seam of her mouth, she opened for him, instantly angling her head for a deeper kiss.
Her ready acquiescence had his patience straining, but he continued to sip, to savor, steeping himself in the taste of her.
She was so sweet, so…open. He could get drunk on kissing her alone.
The pulse in her throat hammered against his thumb, urging his own heartbeat into a gallop. But still, he held himself in check. If they were going to do this, he was going to take his time. He’d make it good for her. Make it worth her taking this chance on him.
Rising to her toes, Ivy pressed more firmly against him.
His erection nudged her belly. She was short.
Too short for them to easily line up while standing.
Blindly, he backed them toward the sofa, praying he didn’t run into the table and upset the coffee.
Abruptly bumping into the sofa, he sat down hard, breaking their kiss.
Ivy followed him down, finding his mouth again like a heat-seeking missile as she straddled his lap, fitting herself against the bulge in his jeans.
Harrison groaned, skimming his hands up her back and into her hair.
“Too many clothes,” she complained.
“Working on it.” His hands went to the belt of her sweater, tugging the knot free.
With considerably less patience, she shoved his flannel shirt off his shoulders, growling a little when it caught.
The sound shot straight to his cock. He couldn’t stop himself from holding her close and bucking against her heat, torturing them both.
Her tongue dipped into his mouth, even as she tugged up his t-shirt, seeking skin.
More than happy to oblige, he broke the kiss, yanking the shirt up and off.
Ivy’s pupils all but swallowed up the green of her eyes as she took in the sight of him.
She sucked in a slow breath. “I didn’t have adequate opportunity to appreciate this earlier.
” She trailed a finger down his shoulder, over one pec to circle his nipple.
“God was in a very, very good mood when He made you.”
“Pretty sure that was the United States Army.”
“God bless America.” Her mouth came back to his, unabashedly greedy as her hands streaked over his chest and shoulders.
He loved every second.
Tunneling beneath her shirt, he stroked his fingers over her back, her ribs, and higher to cup her breasts.
On a moan, Ivy arched into the touch, her nipples pearling.
He wanted to taste them, wanted to see them but contented himself for the moment with exploring by touch, seeing how she responded when he tugged down the cups of her bra and skimmed his roughened fingers over her tender skin.
“More. Very definitely more of that.” As if to help him along with that decision, she grasped the hem of her shirt and tugged it off.
The sight of the livid bruising slapped him in the face again. It ran from her left shoulder down to her right hip, clearly showing where she’d been thrown against the seat belt. His hands stilled. She’d been in an accident just yesterday. What the hell was he doing?
Ivy cupped his face in her hand, forcing his gaze up. “It looks worse than it is. It doesn’t hurt.”
He’d been bruised countless times, in countless ways. He knew the stages, knew the level of pain associated with each. There was no way in hell this didn’t hurt.
“Please don’t stop.”
She wanted this, wanted him, and God knew, he wanted her. So he wouldn’t stop, but he’d damned well find some control and finesse and be gentle about it.
Leaning forward, Harrison pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder, where the angry purple began. Ivy’s breath hitched, her fingers spearing into his hair to hold him to her. He traced the path of the bruising with his mouth.
“I was never a fan of the whole kiss it make it better thing, but you’re changing my mind.”
He smiled against her skin, taking a moment to linger between her breasts as he unfastened her bra and drew it off.
He traced the inner curve of each breast with his tongue, wanting more, needing more, but holding himself back.
He had a mission to complete now—to make her forget she’d been injured at all.
Lifting his head, he combed his fingers through her thick, brown hair. “Let’s go upstairs.”
She slid off his lap, sending him a heated look over her shoulder as she crossed the room. Harrison thought he’d happily follow her anywhere. He admired the sway of her ass as she preceded him up the steep, narrow staircase, and maybe that was how he missed when her nerves crept back in.
As he stepped into the loft, he saw her deliberately unclench her fingers and straighten rounded shoulders, a quick flash of uncertainty giving way to relief. The realization that she’d thought he might change his mind and turn away from her again was a punch to the gut.
Jesus, he’d been a jackass.
Wanting to put her at ease again, he framed her face and kissed her, long and deep, until she relaxed against him, her arms snaking around his waist.
“Still okay?”
“Why aren’t we naked yet?” Ah, there was that sweet tone of demand again.
His lips kicked up. “You in a hurry?”
“Kinda.”
“Too bad. I’m not.” Determined to make up for giving her any reason to doubt him, he drowned the protest she made with another kiss designed to make her forget exactly what she was complaining about.
Nudging her back on the bed, Harrison efficiently pulled off her shoes and socks.
Instead of starting in on her jeans, he crawled up the bed, up her body, close enough that the hair of his chest brushed against the sensitive skin of her breasts.
Her breath hitched and she arched into him.
And didn’t that just put her long, lovely neck right there for his mouth to feast on?
Ivy tipped her head back as he began to explore the side of her throat. “More skin-to-skin.”
Harrison had been a soldier for a lot of years. He knew how to take orders. He dragged his stubbled cheek across her collar bone. “I intend to taste every inch of your skin. Does that work for you?”
Ivy’s entire body clenched beneath him in anticipation. “Given what your mouth is doing to me so far, I suspect it absolutely will. But just so you know, I really want to feel your hands again.”
He didn’t often have cause to think about his hands in a positive light.
The things he’d done with them in the line of duty— Harrison cut off the thought, glancing up to where they circled her wrists, pinning her loosely in place.
If she liked the idea of his hands, he was more than happy to put them to better use. “Where?”
“Everywhere,” she breathed.
Oh yeah, he could get into that. “How about we do both?”
“Please, God, yes.”
He used them on her—fingers, tongue, teeth, lips—until every exposed inch quivered with need and sensation.
She encouraged him every step of the way, saying exactly what she liked, what she loved, what she needed more of.
Then, and only then, did he strip off her jeans and panties to continue his thorough exploration, working his way up her legs from her delicate ankles.
As he began to nuzzle the soft, soft skin at the inside of her thigh, Ivy muttered, “I might simply burn up and die if you don’t hurry up and put that mouth where I need it most.”
Smiling again—he’d smiled more since this woman came into his life than the entire past year—he asked, “Do you always talk this much during sex?”
“What?” The word came out strained.
“You’ve had this kind of one-sided dialogue going since we got started up here.”
“I have?”
“Mmm.” He kissed a couple inches higher.
Her body tensed. “I used to be a sleep talker as a kid. I didn’t know I was a sex talker.”
Sorry he’d inadvertently embarrassed her, he gently pressed apart the knees she’d begun to close so he could look up the length of her body into her eyes. “I love knowing what I’m doing to you.”
The vulnerability on her face had little to do with his position between her legs. “You do?”
“It’s incredibly fucking hot. And, for the record, you won’t die. Not on my watch.”
“Good to knooo—oh God.”
At the first touch of his tongue down her center, she bowed up off the bed, hands fisting in the covers.
He simply used his hands to hold her hips steady as he began to lick and suck at her most sensitive flesh, until the only word she could manage was his name.
She screamed it as the orgasm ripped through her.
Best sound ever.
As she lay gasping for breath, Harrison prowled up her body again, reaching for one of the condoms in his wallet on the bedside table.
“You lied.” Because the words sounded conversational instead of accusatory, he didn’t slow his movements.
“About what?”
“I really don’t think I just lived through that. It was too good. Glad I went out on a high note, though.”
This woman was good for his ego.
On a chuckle, Harrison rose over her, loving her flushed, sated look in the middle of the rumpled bed and knowing he’d done that. “You’re quite the soprano, but I expect we can find proof of life yet.” He stroked the blunt tip of his cock through the wetness between her thighs.
Already arching up to him, Ivy levered up to brush her lips over his. “I do appreciate a man who loves a challenge.”
Harrison followed her mouth back down, covering her body with his as he eased inside her. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she dug her heels into his ass, urging him deeper.
Christ almighty, she felt so good.