He banged on her door and yelled her name, but she didn’t respond, just screamed again. It sounded like she was being murdered in there, and it made him frantic. Without giving his actions any thought, he slammed his shoulder into the door—it didn’t budge, and he was left with a bruised shoulder for his trouble. He pounded his fist against the wood again before going around the side of her house and checking windows. The living room window was slightly ajar. He pushed it open even farther and climbed through. He then stumbled around in the dark, slamming into furniture as he felt his way to the kitchen counter.

It was easier to navigate from there. The place had the same layout as his, only with a shitload more furniture, and he seemed to hit every piece on his way to where he knew the larger bedroom should be.

She wasn’t screaming anymore, but she was crying. Painful, devastated sobs that broke his heart. He cursed himself for not bringing his phone—the flashlight would have been handy—but he eventually made his way to her door, opened it, and stepped into her bedroom. Her bed, like his, was pushed directly against their shared wall, which explained why he had heard her cries so clearly. She had a night-light: a tiny little globe plugged directly into a wall socket. One of those he knew parents used for scared children. There was a pretty little ocean scene in the globe, and it cast a restful blue reflection onto the wall.

He was grateful for the small light because it helped him find his bearings very quickly. Tina was on her back and tangled up in her bedsheets, moving restlessly, her face drenched in tears as she cried in her sleep.

Harris made a rough sound in the back of his throat and sat down on the edge of her bed and tentatively stroked his hand up and down her arm.

“Hush now, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You’re safe. I’m here.”

She was trembling violently, and he was tempted to curl up next to her and wrap his arms around her shaking body, but he wasn’t sure how she’d respond to that once she woke up. It was bad enough he’d broken into her house and made his way into her bedroom. The best he could do was waken her as gently as he could and try to keep her calm and comforted.

“Tina, wake up, sweetheart. Come on. It’s just a dream.”

She sighed, the sound filled with so much sadness it just about killed Harris. Her beautiful face was swollen and blotchy with tears.

“Tina . . . ,” he tried again, and this time her forehead scrunched slightly before, with another long, sad sigh, she opened her eyes and looked straight at him.

“Harris?”

“You had a nightmare,” he whispered, and her face crumpled as she burst into tears. Horrified and not sure what to do, he intensified his stroking of her arm. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” she denied in a thick voice. “It can never be fine. Oh Harris.” She sat up and launched herself against his chest. For one shocked moment, Harris just stared down at her bright-red head before closing his arms around her wildly trembling body.

“It’s okay, it’s okay . . .” He kept repeating the inane phrase and dropped kisses to the top of her head, stroking a comforting hand up and down her back, while another—less good—part of himself loved the feel of her soft body pressed up against his.

“It’s not okay,” she said again, lifting her head to look at him, and Harris sucked in his breath at the expression on her face. “Please. Please, Harris. Make it okay. Make me forget.”

She lifted her hand to his face, cupping his jaw, while her thumb brushed over his lower lip in an unmistakably seductive motion. There was no doubting what she meant . . . what she wanted . . . and Harris, immediately and painfully erect though he was, wasn’t at all sure he should take her up on the offer he saw shining in her beautiful, tear-drenched green gaze.

“Tina . . . I can’t do that. You’re not . . .” The rest of what he’d been about to say was muffled when she moved her hand round to the back of his head, entangled her fingers in his hair, and pulled his head down until he was close enough for her to place her lips on his.

The kiss was soft and chaste at first. Innocent and inexperienced, but then her mouth moved against his, her tongue licked at the seam of his lips, and absolutely all bets were off.

He groaned, and one of his hands swept up her back and palmed her nape beneath her fiery mane of hair. His own tongue took over, showing her exactly what she should do and how she should do it. She proved to be an apt pupil, and soon they were dueling back and forth, tongues parrying and thrusting in an endless game of one-upmanship.

Tags: Natasha Anders Broken Pieces Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net