Page 43

TWENTY

I’d spent five years choosing men I’d never have to feel anything for. So of course the one who finally undid me did it on a dance floor in front of a hundred people after telling me that he belonged to me.

How was a girl supposed to say no to a man who loved her, flaws and all? Whether I deserved happiness or not, I wanted it—with him.

After the kiss that had left me reeling, I’d grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled out my phone to call an Uber. Screw this party. I didn’t want to be surrounded by people who didn’t know me or really care about me for that matter. After that moment on the dance floor, I needed to be alone with the only person who mattered.

The house was mostly dark when we got there since everyone else was still at the party. But this was just what I’d been hoping for—some time where we could be alone, especially now that we weren’t pretending anymore. The only light came from the Christmas tree in the living room, casting a glow that managed to make this moment feel even more charged. His gray eyes were almost black in the low light, and the way he was looking at me—God, the way this man looked at me—was like he’d been stranded in the desert and I was his oasis.

“Hi,” I whispered, because I suddenly didn’t know what else to say. I’d had plenty of sex and barely felt a hint of nerves about it despite the Catholic guilt I’d been raised with. But I’d never had a real reason to be nervous. Sex was easy when it didn’t mean anything. When the person on the other side of the bed was interchangeable with the last one and would be replaced by the next.

But this was Harry. There was no going back from this with him. I had a feeling that despite my fears, there would be no others after this.

And for the first time since my high school boyfriend and I fumbled through losing our virginity in the back of his car, I was about to sleep with someone I actually had feelings for. And my feelings for Harry were so much stronger than anything I’d ever felt before.

“Hi.” His voice was low and rough, and it sent goose bumps skittering across my skin. He closed the distance between us and kissed me, his lips soft but demanding. Like he wanted to reassure me and own me at the same time.

When he pulled back, neither of us said a word as I reached for his hand and led him upstairs.

He’d been sleeping beside me every night since we arrived, and while every night had felt slightly charged, tonight the bed looked like a dare.

I turned to face him and his hand came up, cupping my jaw again as his thumb brushed across my cheekbone. I leaned into the touch before I could stop myself. I loved when he touched me like this. Like I was precious to him.

“We don’t have to⁠—”

“If you finish that sentence, I’m going to lose it,” I said. “I want this. I want you.” I meant every word and there was no way I wanted him to be a gentleman right now. He’d told me he was mine on that dance floor, and now I needed him to put his money where his mouth was. I needed to touch him, to feel him the way I’d craved for far longer than I cared to admit.

His eyes searched mine, and whatever he found must have been enough because his mouth was on me again—slower this time. He kissed me like we had all the time in the world, like there was nowhere else he needed to be, and my hands fisted in the front of his dress shirt as I pulled him closer.

His hands found the zipper at the back of my dress and he dragged it down leisurely, the barest hint of his skin against mine. The dress loosened and then his hand stroked up my spine with a tantalizing touch before he peeled the straps off my shoulders, his lips following the path of the thin strip of fabric. My head fell back as his mouth pressed against my collarbone, the curve of my shoulder, the hollow of my throat. Each kiss was tender and sweet. Thorough. Like he was memorizing me.

The dress pooled at my feet, and I stood in front of him in just my black strapless bra and matching underwear. His hot, hungry gaze swept down my body and his jaw tightened. He looked at me like he couldn’t believe I was real, and the reverence in his expression made my heart feel too big for my chest.

His gaze met mine, and the look in his eyes was pure adoration. “You are so fucking beautiful. Inside and out.” His voice was barely above a whisper, and it wrecked me more than it probably should’ve, but Harry knew me. Better than anyone else ever had.

I reached for his shirt buttons but my fingers were trembling. When was the last time my hands had trembled touching a guy? I huffed out a disbelieving laugh at myself. “I don’t know why I’m nervous. I’ve done this before. A lot.”

Fuck, that made me sound like a slut. But I’d always been open about sex and very sex positive. Maybe it was growing up in a repressed Catholic household but I didn’t think sex was anything to be ashamed of. It was a physical embodiment of passion and as natural as breathing.

He caught my hands in his and pressed his lips to my knuckles. “Not with me.”

And there it was. The difference between every man I’d ever been with and the one standing in front of me. None of them had been Harry. None of them had ever looked at me the way he was looking at me right now—like I wasn’t just a body he wanted but a person he’d chosen.

A person he loved. A person who was deserving of his love.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, and he let go of my hands so I could finish undoing his buttons. His shirt fell open, revealing the broad, muscled chest I’d tried very hard not to stare at all those times he’d walked around the hockey house shirtless. He wasn’t as overt about it as Drew and Liam had been before they’d both fallen in love, but I’d caught him in only a towel more than once, and it had wreaked havoc on my lady bits.

Harry was unassuming in his hotness. He sometimes carried himself with a cool aloofness, but not in a way that made him cold. It was like he was always watching, observing the goings-on around him, and preferred not to draw extra attention to himself. But it was hard to miss his broad shoulders. And with his shirt now slipping down his arms and falling to the floor, it was impossible to miss his fit biceps and toned forearms. Or those abs.

Good Lord, the man was sin packaged like a saint.

I couldn’t stop myself from sliding my fingers over his pecs and the hard ridges of his stomach, feeling a giddy little rush when the muscles contracted under my touch.

He slid a hand around my back, unhooking my bra and letting it fall to the floor. Then his hands slid to my waist, pulling me against him, until my bare skin was flush against his. We both sucked in a sharp breath at the contact and then his mouth found mine again while his hands explored my body like he was making a map of it. He cupped my full breast, his thumb brushing over the nipple and then pinching it just enough for a gasp to escape my mouth. My head fell back as heat pooled between my thighs, and he took advantage of the movement to press his lips to the column of my throat.

He walked us over to the bed, never removing his lips from my body until he lowered me onto the bed with a gentleness that made my eyes sting. No one had ever touched me like this. Had ever treated me like I was a gift. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure I’d wanted them to. I never thought I deserved that. Sex was fine and pleasure was normal, but it had never felt like I was being worshipped.

But that’s how it felt with Harry.