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8
Time froze for Magenta. She found herself paralysed by Harry’s touch. As his sensual mouth teased her lips, she felt the tightly sealed box within her crack. Teenage memories of wanting Harry seeped through the gap. She’d been thirteen and desperate for him to notice her as a girl. Desperate for him to touch her. But he never did. Instead he’d left Invertary. Left her behind to defend herself at school. Left her alone without him. Aching for him.
“Stop it.” Harry’s word rumbled against her lips. “The past is gone. This is now.”
Harry hadn’t lost his knack for reading her mind, and with those words he pulled her back into the present. She felt his large hand span the small of her back, pressing her body flush against him. He was a solid wall of strength, his muscles vibrating with restraint as he held her firmly but gently.
Her brain had short-circuited. Kissing Harry was a teenage dream come true. A dream she found herself indulging in, even though common sense told her to stop before she got hurt. Her hand curled tighter into his T-shirt. His tongue brushed across the seam of her lips, making her weaken. A gasp escaped. Harry took advantage, angling his mouth so that he could taste all of her. Claim all of her.
Her body melted against his as she let him take cont
rol. The taste of him was a feast for her senses. She felt the blood rush through her veins and bubble with erotic effervescence. The air swirled around her. Somehow, being in the darkness and stillness of the mine, being in a place she thought of as hers alone, made the intimacy increase tenfold.
His lips moved from her mouth to her neck, teasing kisses down to the curve of her shoulder. He bit her gently before sucking her skin into his mouth. She heard herself whimper and didn’t care.
“You are so freaking delicious.” The words were a vibration against her skin.
He traced his tongue up to her ear before nibbling her earlobe. “I want to eat you all up.” His desire was little more than a low, rumbling breath against her ear that sent shivers rippling through her body.
His scent overwhelmed her, filling her head with romance-novel images of sun-kissed fields and Harry bare-chested in faded jeans. She was losing her mind. Becoming some weak, girly person who ached for a man—and she didn’t care. In fact, she wanted to float away on the feelings he induced in her. Float away and never return.
Harry’s huge hand engulfed her breast and made her ache. There was too much material between them. She wanted it gone. Now. His thumb teased her nipple, and Magenta growled into his mouth. More. She wanted more. Needed more. All thoughts of keeping away from Harry were gone from her head. All that was left were the loud, desperate pleas of her body. And all her body wanted was Harry.
“More,” she ordered.
Harry complied. His hand swept under her T-shirt and back to her breast. She made a noise of complaint. Her bra was still between them.
“You feel better than I ever imagined,” he said against her lips. “I want you in my mouth.”
Yes. She pressed into him. That was what she wanted too. More than she wanted to breathe.
“What’s happening in there? Are you kissing? Please tell me you’re kissing.”
The excited voice of her friend cut through the moment, bringing Magenta back from the warm outdoors and into the dusty mine where Harry was clutching her closely, his fingers teasing her breast. His breathing laboured. His heartbeat a thud against her skin.
“Go away,” he growled at his cousin.
Magenta’s brain was struggling to process the interruption. Part of her couldn’t understand why Harry had stopped kissing her. It was the same part of her that wanted to throw him to the ground and jump on top of him.
“Harry?” one of the twins said. “You sound all He-Man, Master of the Universe.”
“I should never have loaned them those comics,” Harry mumbled against Magenta’s ear, making it tingle.
A cold wave of reality washed over Magenta. She stiffened in Harry’s arms. He softly kissed her cheek, aware the moment was shattered.
“Magenta?” It was one of the twins again. “What’s happening? We need to know.”
Magenta pushed away from him, tugging her T-shirt back down. She kept her eyes from Harry.
“Harry, honey”—that had to be Claire—“what’s going on in there?”
Magenta had pulled herself together enough to glare a threat at him. He’d better not tell anyone anything. He cocked an eyebrow like he was amused by her silent demand. With his eyes still on her, he opened his mouth to speak. Magenta clenched her fists.
“Magenta and I are working out our differences,” he told his cousins. “Not that it’s any of your business, but there was definitely kissing. Great kissing, and there would have been even more if you two hadn’t stuck your noses in.”
As the twins squealed with delight, Magenta clenched her teeth tightly. “There is nothing going on here.” She was pleased her voice didn’t sound breathless and needy. “I don’t know what that was”—she pointed at the wall where he’d held her—“but it wasn’t kissing. I felt nothing.”
“You felt nothing?” Harry gave her a cocky smile. “Well, I need to try harder next time, then.”
