More Than Anything (Broken Pieces #1)(37)
His hand burrowed down the front of her panties and found the straining nerve-filled button demanding his attention, and she tensed at his touch, her breath catching as one tentative stroke sent her tumbling into an orgasm.
A little stunned by her responsiveness, Harris kept stroking until the tension left her body completely, on a soft sigh. For someone who made so many raunchy little sounds when she was turned on, she was surprisingly quiet when she came. Just that one long, contented release of breath.
His fingers dipped farther down, finding her tight, slick channel and plunging inside. She immediately tensed again, and he watched her face closely. Her eyes were glassy, unseeing, her beautiful, soft mouth open as she strained against him. Her full breasts shook with each shuddering breath she took, the high, tight raspberry tips looking painfully distended. She was a sight to behold, and it made him want to immediately replace fingers with cock and make long, hard, satisfying love with her.
He dragged her panties off, meaning to do just that. He fisted himself and was poised to shove into her welcoming warmth when he swore viciously.
Tina, still coming down after her amazing orgasm, didn’t immediately register Harris’s abrupt shift in mood. When he swore again, she blinked and focused on his strained face hovering above hers. His eyes looked fierce, lips swollen and face flushed.
“What?” she asked, her voice sounding thick and sluggish even to her own ears.
“I don’t have a condom.” He groaned, and she shut her eyes for a brief moment, reality starting to creep into their surreal little bubble. “Are you on the pill?”
The question felt like a bucket of ice-cold water being tossed over her fevered body, and she went still.
Déjà vu all over again.
Chapter Six
“No.” This time her voice was like ice, and she shoved both hands against his hard, sweat-slick chest. “Get off me. Please.”
“I can get one from next door, just give me a second to—”
“No,” she interrupted sharply. “This was a mistake, Harris.”
He swore, his body quivering and tense above her as he fought for control.
“Right,” he said, his voice low and terse. “Right.”
He rolled off her to sprawl out on the cramped double bed beside her, while she sat up, her wild mane of hair falling forward into her face. He took up most of the space as he glared up at the ceiling, his rampant, throbbing penis arching angrily up over his abdomen.
Despite her twenty-eight years, she hadn’t seen too many penises in her lifetime. In fact, Harris’s was the only one she had any experience with, and ten years ago she hadn’t seen very much of it. Now she tried hard to keep her curious gaze averted, but she couldn’t stop herself from sneaking glances. It looked angry, swollen, and huge. Of course, she had nothing to compare it with. It could be perfectly average, but she didn’t have much frame of reference, so by default it was the biggest penis she’d ever seen.
She bit back a groan at her rambling thoughts. She tended to focus on boring minutiae, since it kept the mind from dwelling on more disturbing thoughts. Yet another one of her coping mechanisms.
Not that his penis was boring . . . it totally wasn’t. It was fascinating and—
“Stop staring at my dick,” he suddenly grumbled, interrupting her crazy train of thought, and she flushed bright red, knowing that the current color of her skin was clashing horribly with her hair. “You’re making matters worse.”
“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “I’m sorry I left you like . . . like that, but you know it would be a mistake to have sex.”
“Right now, I’m finding it hard to agree with that sentiment,” he said emphatically, and she wrinkled her nose.
“Maybe if you covered it up or something?” she suggested, hoping he would tuck it out of sight. “It’s very distracting.”
“This is a weird fucking conversation,” he suddenly said with an amused snort, reaching behind his head for a pillow and thankfully—disappointingly?—covering his groin with it.
“Thank you,” she mumbled. He snorted again and turned his head on the remaining pillow to stare at her. Tina self-consciously dragged the two sides of her top together, buttoning it up hastily.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice curt and gravelly.
“Yes,” she said with a small nod and pushed her hair out of her face, meeting his gaze full on, hoping to convince him of her sincerity.
“You had a nightmare,” he said. “It looked bad. What did you dream about?”
“I don’t remember,” she lied. He held her gaze for a moment before chewing on the inside of his cheek.
“You scared me,” he admitted. “It sounded like you were being attacked.”
“I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say.
He exhaled, the sound long and weary, before sitting up. He crossed his long, powerful legs and repositioned the pillow over his lap. His chest, which had seemed to be the pinnacle of masculine perfection ten years ago, now looked even more massive and hewn from rock. The sight of him sitting almost completely naked on her bed didn’t feel entirely real, and part of her wondered if she was still dreaming.
“How did you get into my house?” The thought hadn’t occurred to her before. Now she found herself wondering how the hell he had managed to get into her bedroom with the front and back doors locked.