More Than Anything (Broken Pieces 1)

“Guess I’m going to have to stop thinking of you as ‘Hasty’—done in thirty seconds—Harris now.”

Her dry comment surprised a shout of laughter from him.

“Not cool, Bean,” he chastised, unable to keep the affectionate warmth out of his voice.

Tina snuggled close, feeling like a contented cat. If she could purr, she would; instead she settled for sighing blissfully. His fingers gently combed through her tangled mass of hair, the movement soothing and hypnotic, lulling her into a dreamlike state. She couldn’t remember feeling this relaxed in years.

“Every inch of you is perfect,” he said, sounding flatteringly awestruck. “This fucking hair. God. I could lose myself in this hair.”

“You’re not too bad yourself,” she teased, her fingers idly stroking down the ridged plane of his abdomen, causing his muscles to jump in reaction. She lifted her head lazily to look at him. “You’re ticklish.”

The sleepy contentment disappeared from his face, to be replaced by alarm.

“No. I’m not.” She prodded an experimental finger lightly between his ribs, and he jerked in reaction.

“You totally are,” she said, her lips parting in a grin of delighted discovery. Another poke produced another jump, and he eyed her warily.

“Don’t . . . ,” he warned, and she laughed. He looked hilariously terrified.

“Oh. I won’t,” she promised, settling back down and resting her head on his hard chest again. She waited until he’d relaxed completely before continuing. “Not until you least expect it.”

“Tina.” He tried to sound mad, but she could tell he enjoyed her teasing and smiled before giving in to temptation and dropping a kiss on the taut masculine nipple situated so conveniently close to her mouth. She followed it up with a scrape of her teeth, and he groaned in helpless reaction. She felt his immediate response swelling against her leg and smiled smugly, loving how easily she could influence that big masculine body.

“So . . . what now?” he asked cautiously, and she flattened her palm against one firm pec and rested her chin on the top of her hand to stare up into his handsome face. He tried—and failed—to look nonchalant, but she could see the tension in his expression.

“Now? I’m ready for a catnap,” she said with a fake yawn that became very real as soon as she opened her mouth. She felt abruptly exhausted. “Just a little rest before round two.”

“Round two?” he asked eagerly, and she giggled.

“Yep. I was promised a little snack, remember? Something to keep my mouth busy.” The lazy, half-mast erection that had been growing beneath her leg went rock hard in seconds, and he swore vehemently under his breath as her meaning became clear. She moved her hand down—not sure where all this brazenness was coming from, but enjoying it immensely—and clamped her fingers around his straining length. She gave him a leisurely stroke, followed by a reassuring pat. “Later, okay. I just need to sleep for a bit.”

Harris watched her eyes drift shut and felt her go limp in his arms as sleep claimed her almost immediately. He felt envious of the ease with which she’d drifted off, leaving him hard and aching and desperate to know what the new parameters—if any—of their relationship were. He thought of the bag he had packed earlier and couldn’t imagine leaving now. Not after this. Not without her.

His mind and his emotions were in turmoil. But at the forefront was a sentiment as rare as the joy that had so recently made a reappearance in his life. He explored this new, fledgling emotion from all angles, poking and prodding at it, not sure if it had a place in his ever-changing relationship with Tina. But no matter how much he tried to suppress it, tried to tell himself that he was a fool for feeling this way . . . the exuberant, uncontainable hope would not disappear.

He hoped this meant she’d forgiven him. He hoped it was the beginning of something more. He hoped she cared for him even a fraction as much as he cared for her.

He hoped. And it terrified him.

Tina jerked in her sleep, and the movement dragged Harris out of his own restless slumber.

“Wha—?”

The half-formed, sleepy question died on his lips when she jerked again and whimpered in her sleep. He sat up and rubbed his eyes drowsily. The room was pitch black. He had turned off the bedside lamp before dozing off earlier, and he was fumbling around looking for the switch when she screamed. A shrill “No!” that set his heart galloping.

“Nonononononoooo!” He couldn’t find the fucking light switch and reached for her writhing body instead.

“Tina! Tina! It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s a dream.”

She shrieked, the sound loud, piercing, and terrifying. His eyes filled with helpless tears as he tried and failed to soothe her. Eventually he simply wrapped his arms around her and held her while she shook helplessly in his hold. He made soft, crooning noises, hoping she’d be comforted by them. Wanting her to know he was close by and there for her.