Find me.
That’s what I’ve wanted from her—for the lightbulb to go off, and for Harper to see I’m the one she wants.
“You’re a good detective. I’ll get you those chocolate-covered strawberries if you want,” I tease.
“I don’t want that right now. I want something else.”
“What do you want?” I ask as I resume my work, practically holding my breath with the hope that she wants the same thing I do.
“I want the night with you not to end.”
17
She came looking for me . . . and her hair is stuck in her zipper. I’ve got to focus on part two of that first. I wiggle the zipper one way, then the other, then back again, until at last, her hair is free and the zipper is undone.
I don’t unzip it. Not yet. Instead, I sweep all her hair off her back. “Your zipper is fixed,” I tell her, as I press my fingertips against her bare shoulder.
“Your hands,” she murmurs. “You have good hands. You know what to do with them.”
“I do know what to do with them, and what I want to do with them,” I say, as my fingers travel to the edge of her shoulder. Even this small touch turns me on like crazy. “And I want to touch you so fucking much.”
“Oh God, please touch me.” The words spill out of her in a breathless rush.
Everywhere there are sparks. Just everywhere—lighting up my skin, spreading inside me like wildfire. I run my left hand down her arm. The little hairs on her arms stand on end as I trace her soft skin, my fingers heading for her wrist. I lay my hand on top of hers, and she opens her fingers. I slide mine between hers, and she gasps.
That sound ignites me, makes me want to never stop touching her.
I clasp her hand, and it feels erotic and romantic at the same time, and I’ve never in my life enjoyed holding hands this much. It’s as if every cell of hers reaches for me, and every nerve inside me blazes for her. I have never felt so sure that a feeling is mutual before. Never.
She wraps her fingers tightly around me, and I’m pretty much done. I brush my lips against the back of her neck, and my mind goes hazy with desire.
“Oh,” she says, a gentle moan.
She tastes so fucking good. With my free hand, I thread my fingers in her soft, silky hair and skim my nose across her neck, inhaling her, letting her scent wash over me, like the best drug. She doesn’t smell like springtime; she reminds me of honey, and oranges, and all my fantasies. I nip her neck, flicking my tongue over her flesh. The need to kiss her everywhere builds.
Her shoulders rise and fall, her breathing grows fast, and her fingers grip me harder. I layer kisses all over the back of her neck, drawing out moans, and gasps, and sighs that drive me crazy. They tell me how much she’s into this. How much more she wants.
I’ve been dying to kiss her lips, to feel her body mold to me. Now, here she is, alone in my hotel room, and she came for me, and that staggers me. It’s everything I wanted and refused to believe would happen.
“Harper.”
“Yes?” It sounds like she’s dreaming.
“What would you do if I kissed you right now?”
I ask not because I’m unsure, not because I’m worried she doesn’t want it, but because she likes to talk about kissing, I’ve learned.
She’s feathery soft as she answers me, “I would probably melt.”
Or maybe I will.
I let go of her hand and turn her face to me. My eyes hook into hers, so open, so vulnerable, so damn ready. I run my thumb along her cheek, and she shivers. Her lips part, and I want to crush her mouth to mine this second, but I want to draw out the anticipation even more. Because in her eyes I see so much want, so much desire, so much of everything I’ve craved from this girl, everything I’ve seen flashes of in the last few weeks. I want her to feel all of it. To experience every second of this moment before I kiss her.
But I can’t wait any longer.
I press my lips to hers, and the temperature in me soars. I kiss her soft and tender as I touch her face, my fingers exploring her. It’s such a rush to kiss her in private with no one watching, to have her permission behind closed doors. It’s a privilege to know this part of her, this side she so rarely shows. The side of her where she lets me in, where she lets go.
We fit so extraordinarily well, our lips eager and greedy. She’s so soft and so hungry at the same time. Soon, this pace isn’t enough, and I slide my tongue between her lips. She opens for me, and it’s electric. Her tongue meeting mine. Our breath mingling. We both moan at the same instant, because this is so fucking intense. So damn good. I kiss her harder, deeper, wetter. I suck that sexy bottom lip of hers between mine, and her hands shoot up and thread through my hair. She’s not a hot mess at all. She’s just hot and fevered, bursting with need. She’s rough, too, as she curls her fingers around the back of my head and clutches me closer, like she can’t get enough of kissing me.