More Than Anything (Broken Pieces #1)(65)

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.

Every breath caught in her chest on a sob, her face wet against his chest, while she cried as if her heart were breaking.

“Tina, sweetheart, please. Wake up. It’s a dream. It’s just a dream.”

She gasped sharply and went rigid in his arms.

“Harris?” Her voice was reedy. Her arms wrapped around his waist, and she hugged him close. He thought she would relax now that she was awake and knew he was with her; instead her breathing grew shallow, coming in rapid pants.

“Tina?”

“Dark. Too dark,” she gasped. She was breathing so fast, he worried she would hyperventilate and pass out.

He recalled the night-light she’d had on when he had come in here a couple of nights ago and could have kicked himself for turning the bedside lamp off and engulfing the room in complete darkness. He swore and once again fumbled for the lamp switch, thankfully finding it this time and flooding the room with light. She inhaled a huge gulping breath of air, and he grabbed her face and planted a relieved kiss on her lips.

They simultaneously became aware of the pounding on the front door, and Harris swore again as he reluctantly extricated himself from her clinging arms.

“No. Please . . . stay.”

“It’s Greyson. You don’t know how bloodcurdling your screams are, Tina. He probably thinks I’m murdering you in here. Just give me a moment, okay? I’ll be right back.” He searched for his boxer briefs and found them entangled in his jeans. He dragged them on and rushed to the door, where Greyson was still banging and shouting. He sounded alarmed. Thank God they had no other neighbors in close proximity.