Chapter 11 #3
"He never asked you to be his?" I needed to be sure, needed to hear her say it again, needed the words to sink into my bones.
"No," Harper assured me, her gaze steady and clear. "And if he had, I would have said no."
"Really?" The word came out shocked, disbelieving. My brother was brilliant and kind, gentle, whereas I was harsh. I was a brute, a soldier—he was the better catch by any measure.
"Really," Harper's laugh was soft, musical, and it wrapped around me like a caress. "Xytol is my friend... one of my best friends, but I've never felt about him the way I feel about you."
"And how do you feel about me?" My voice was barely more than a whisper, rough with emotion I couldn't contain.
Harper's eyes searched mine, and I saw something vulnerable there, something raw and honest that made my breath catch in my chest.
She started to speak, then stopped, her teeth catching her lower lip as if she were gathering courage.
"I haven't felt this way about anyone since my husband died.
Not once. Not even close." Her thumb traced slow, deliberate circles on the back of my hand, and the gentle touch sent shivers racing up my arm.
"With you, I feel safe. Cherished. Like part of me didn't die with Seth—it was just buried, waiting for you to unearth it. "
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears that caught the light, and her free hand came up to rest against my chest, palm flat over where my heart hammered beneath muscle and bone.
"You've awakened something in me I thought was gone forever," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I want you. I want to be with you. I know it's complicated, I know there are a thousand reasons why I shouldn't, but I can't deny what I feel anymore."
Something inside me snapped. I pulled her to me, crushing my mouth to hers, pouring everything I couldn't say into the kiss—my desire, my devotion, my desperate need for her.
She melted against me, her fingers threading through my hair, her body molding to mine like she'd been made to fit there.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, I rested my forehead against hers.
"Harper," I breathed her name like a prayer.
My hands slid beneath her shirt, fingers splaying across the bare skin of her back, and she gasped at the contact. Her skin was impossibly soft, warm silk beneath my touch, and I needed more. I needed all of her.
"Tell me to stop," I rasped against her mouth, giving her one last chance to pull away, to save us both from crossing this threshold. "Tell me you don't want this."
"Don't stop," Harper breathed, her hands tugging at the hem of my shirt with trembling fingers. "Don't you dare stop."
I growled low in my throat, the sound primal and possessive, and claimed her mouth again as I tugged her shirt over her head.
She lifted her arms to help me, and then she was there before me, her pale skin glowing in the dim light, her breasts barely contained by a scrap of lace that did nothing to hide her hardened nipples.
"Beautiful," I breathed, my hands cupping her breasts, thumbs stroking over the sensitive peaks through the fabric. She arched into my touch, a soft moan escaping her lips that went straight to my cock.
Her fingers tugged on my shirt, insistent and I took my hands from her perfect flesh for the breath of time it took to pull the shirt over my head, almost ripping the fabric in my haste.
I watched her blue eyes widen, breath escaping in a soft gasp and then her hands were on my chest, exploring, mapping the ridges and planes of muscle.
Her touch was reverent, worshipful, and it made me feel like something more than the scarred warrior I'd always been.
I reached behind her, fumbling with the contraption hiding her flesh until lust overtook me and I sliced the aggravating fabric free with a snip of a claw. Her breasts spilled free, full and perfect, and I couldn't resist lowering my head to take one peaked nipple into my mouth.
Harper cried out, her back arching, her hands fisting in my hair as I sucked and laved attention on the sensitive flesh.
I switched to the other breast, giving it the same treatment while my hand kneaded the one I'd abandoned, and she writhed beneath me, her hips grinding against mine in unconscious need.
"Xabat," she gasped, and hearing my name on her lips in that breathy, desperate tone nearly undid me.
I kissed my way down her stomach, my tongue dipping into her navel, my hands working at the fastenings of her pants. She lifted her hips to help me slide them down along with her underwear, and then she was completely bare before me.
I sat back on my heels, drinking in the sight of her. The curve of her hips, the softness of her thighs, the glistening evidence of her arousal between them. Mine. She was mine.
"You're staring," Harper whispered, a blush coloring her cheeks and spreading down her chest.
"I'm memorizing," I corrected, my voice rough with need. "Every inch of you."
I spread her thighs wider, settling between them, and pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee. Then higher. Then higher still. Her breathing quickened, her fingers gripping the towels beneath her as I kissed my way up her inner thigh.
When my mouth finally reached her center, she bucked against me, a strangled sound escaping her throat. I held her hips steady and tasted her, my tongue stroking through her folds, circling her clit, dipping inside her. She was sweet and tangy and intoxicating, and I couldn't get enough.
"Oh god," Harper panted, her thighs trembling on either side of my head. "Xabat, please—"
I slid two fingers inside her while my mouth worked her clit, and she clenched around me, hot and wet and perfect. I pumped my fingers in and out, curling them to find that spot that made her cry out, and sucked her clit between my lips.
She came apart with a scream, her body convulsing, her inner walls clamping down on my fingers as waves of pleasure crashed through her. I worked her through it, extending her orgasm until she was begging me to stop, oversensitized and shaking.
I kissed my way back up her body, licking and nipping at her skin, and when I reached her mouth, she kissed me hungrily, tasting herself on my lips.
"I need you inside me," she whispered against my mouth, her hands working at the fastenings of my pants. "Now. Please."
I helped her strip away the last barrier between us, my cock springing free, thick and hard and aching. Harper's eyes widened slightly as she took in the size of me, but there was no fear there, only hunger.
I positioned myself at her entrance, the head of my cock nudging against her slick heat, and forced myself to pause.
"This will bind us," I warned, my voice strained with the effort of holding back.
"Once I claim you, there's no going back.
No matter what Xytol might believe, you'll be mine and I'll be yours. "
"Good," Harper didn’t hesitate, her legs wrapping around my hips, urging me forward. "I want that. I want you."
I pushed inside her slowly, inch by inch, feeling her stretch around me, her body adjusting to accommodate my size. She was tight, so impossibly tight, and the sensation of her heat enveloping me made my vision blur at the edges.
"Harper," I groaned, my control hanging by a thread as I finally seated myself fully inside her.
She moaned, her nails digging into my shoulders, her body trembling beneath me. "Move," she commanded, her hips rolling against mine. "Please, Xabat, move."
I withdrew almost completely, then thrust back in, and we both cried out at the sensation. I set a rhythm, slow and deep at first, savoring every stroke, every clench of her inner walls around me, every gasp and moan that fell from her lips.
But slow wasn't enough. The need riding me was too fierce, too primal, too consuming.
I increased my pace, driving into her harder, faster, and she met me thrust for thrust, her body arching to take me deeper.
The float rocked beneath us, the plastic squeaking with our movements, but I didn't care.
Nothing mattered except this—the feeling of being inside her, of claiming her, of making her mine.
"Yes," Harper gasped, her legs tightening around me, her hands sliding down to grip my ass, urging me on. "Just like that. Don't stop."
I could feel my release building at the base of my spine, pressure coiling tighter and tighter with each thrust. I shifted the angle slightly, grinding against her clit with every stroke, and felt her start to tighten around me.
"Come for me," I commanded, my voice rough and commanding. "I want to feel you come on my cock."
Harper shattered, her scream echoing off the walls as her orgasm tore through her. Her body clamped down on me like a vise, pulsing and fluttering, and the sensation pushed me over the edge.
I thrust deep one final time and came with a roar, spilling inside her, marking her, claiming her as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. It went on and on, more intense than anything I'd ever experienced, until I was wrung out and trembling above her.
I collapsed onto her, careful not to crush her with my weight, and buried my face in the curve of her neck. She wrapped her arms around me, holding me close, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back.
The bond settled into place between us like a key turning in a lock. I could feel her now—not just physically, but emotionally. Her contentment, her satisfaction, her joy. They flowed through the connection between us like a river of light.
"Mine," I whispered against her skin.
"Yours," Harper agreed, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. "And you're mine."
"Always," I promised.
We lay there tangled together, our breathing slowly returning to normal, and I knew with absolute certainty that I would never let her go. Whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever consequences came from this choice, I would face them.
Because Harper was mine, and I was hers, and nothing in this universe or any other would ever change that.
Hours passed, and still, I couldn't bring myself to move.
I held her against me, savoring the weight of her body pressed to mine, the reality of her finally more intoxicating than any fantasy had ever been.
Harper lay curled against my chest, her breathing deep and even in sleep, one hand resting over my heart.
I couldn't stop studying her peaceful face in the dim light—the delicate curve of her jaw, the way her lashes fanned against her cheeks, the slight smile on her lips even in slumber.
My chest tightened with something that felt dangerously close to panic.
Moving with the careful precision of a warrior on a stealth mission, I reached for the small tracking device I'd kept hidden in the same pocket as the cuddwisg device.
It was barely larger than a grain of rice, a technology that would allow me to locate her anywhere on Earth.
My fingers trembled—actually trembled—as I slipped it into the front pocket of her pink pants, which lay discarded on the floor.
Guilt twisted in my gut like a blade. It felt deceptive, underhanded—not the behavior of an honorable warrior.
But the alternative was unthinkable. I had lost too much already.
I could not, would not lose her, too. The world around us seemed too chaotic.
If something happened, if we were separated, if danger found her, I needed to be able to find her. Always.
I would have to face Xytol if he still lived. I prayed Harper's words were true and he had not claimed her. But if he had, I would kneel before my brother and beg his forgiveness. Even cognizant of the potential fallout that might await, I couldn't bring myself to regret the moment.
Harper was mine now, and I was never letting her go.