A groan escapes from his lips, reverberating through me, a sound filled with so much frustration, want, and need that I feel it in my core, this wicked flame that causes my legs to squeeze together.
This is happening.
My brain can barely conjure up the thought. There are more thoughts that want to follow, to fill my head, to make me second-guess everything, but they have no place here, not now. For once, I just want to feel and not think.
I let go.
This kiss lives in the marrow of my bones. Each sweep of his tongue against mine is the cumulation of unsaid words. As his mouth opens against my lips, hungry and frenzied, growing more passionate and rough by the second, there are weeks of pent-up feelings coming to light and burning away.
We stumble backward across the room, one of his hands sweeping up under my hair, his fingers curling around my strands, pulling with just the right amount of pleasure. He’s breathless already, and I’m not sure I’m breathing at all. If it weren’t for my heart trying to beat its way out of my rib cage, I’d wager that I’m not even alive. Died and gone to heaven, or caught in some fevered dream.
But if I’m dreaming, I don’t ever want to wake up.
My ass hits the dryer, and we come to a stop.
He pulls his mouth away from mine, a greedy little gasp escaping my lips, and rests his forehead against mine, his breath raspy. His eyes flutter closed, his forehead wrinkled in some form of anguish.
Please don’t let him stop, I think. Please don’t let him apologize, get cold feet, turn, and walk away.
“Harrison,” I whisper to him, my voice thick with lust. I put my hands on either side of his face and then let my fingers trail to the back of his head.
He shakes his head slightly, his eyes still closed, and I can feel it, this cord, this connection between us. It’s been snapping and crackling like an electrified whip, but it’s starting to wane, to stretch, threatening to break.
He’s going to pull that walking-away shit, isn’t he?
“Harrison,” I say again, licking my lips, my mouth already bereft without the heat of his. I run my thumbs under his eyes, marveling at how I can touch him like this. Wanting to touch him more.
Emboldened only by determination and the fact that I’ve never been this turned on before, I let my hand fall from his face, run my fingers down the middle of his collared shirt. I start undoing buttons, stealing a glance at his skin, the tattoos, a hint of chest hair. I can feel the heat radiating off him.
Then my fingers get impatient and I let my hand drift down, down, down, until I pause at his belt buckle.
He swallows audibly, and his eyes open, staring right into mine, a look of warning flashing through them.
I take that look as a challenge.
I start undoing the buckle, then yank down the zipper.
The sound of it unzipping echoes in this room.
Keeping my eyes locked with Harrison’s, I slip my hand into his pants until my palm presses against his boxer briefs and the long, thick width of his hard-on.
Wow.
I’ve never been this bold before.
Then again, I don’t think I’ve ever ached this much for someone in my life.
I bite my lip, unable to stop from giving his dick a firm squeeze, feeling the heat and desire crash over me like a tempest.
Holy shit, I’m in trouble.
An involuntary groan comes out of him, flooding me with even more desire than before. “Piper,” he murmurs, pressing himself into my hand. “I’m this close to unraveling.”
“That makes two of us,” I tell him, releasing my hand momentarily and then slipping my fingers underneath the elastic waistband until his bare skin is in my palm, hard as concrete, yet soft like warmed velvet.
“Fuck,” he whispers, breathing in through a gasp as I make a fist, reveling in his size. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
Then he’s putting his hands at my waist and lifting me up onto the dryer.
“I know perfectly well,” I tell him, because this is what I’ve been asking for, even if I’ve been too afraid until now to say it. “I—”
His mouth crashes against mine, sealing off my words, his hands going to my thighs and hiking up the hem of my dress. His hands are rough and hot as they travel up my legs, gripping at my hips, a thumb hooking around the lace edge of my underwear.
Then my underwear is being pulled down until it’s dangling off one foot and his lips continue their hungry journey from my mouth, down my jaw, nipping and licking until they reach my neck.
I moan loudly, unashamed at how vocal I am, and as he sucks roughly at my tender neck, his palms go to my inner thighs and spread them. Hands hook around my ass and shrug my body closer to him. I eagerly wrap my legs around his waist, wanting so much more of him that it seems I can’t get close enough. The intensity is wild, a visceral thrill, and I’m already wet between my legs with this ridiculous need for him.