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He actually chuckled while he clucked like a chicken. So Magenta shut him up the only way she could think of—she slammed her mouth down on his.
Harry hummed with delight, and then, being the great big control freak that he was, he took over the kiss. Magenta was past caring. As soon as her lips touched Harry’s, her annoyance evaporated. She didn’t even care enough to be irritated that she was hopelessly easy when it came to the man. Nope, all she cared about was getting closer to him.
She felt like she was falling down a vertical shaft, into the darkness and the unknown—without a lifeline.
And the feeling was addictive.
In that moment, with the taste of Harry on her tongue and his warm, solid muscle under her fingertips, she wasn’t sure if she would ever let him go. Common sense told her that her sanity would return when his lips left hers. But while they were touching, while he was kissing her, she chose to believe that he was right. That they were soul mates. That Harry could get past the fact he was so much more intelligent than she was. That they could have a future together. Not just any future, but the one she’d dreamed of as a kid.
The one where she got to keep Harry. Forever.
19
Harry’s brain, which usually had a million thoughts working through it at any given time, narrowed its focus to only one thought—Magenta. Only she had the power to stop him thinking about anything but her. Her lips tasted like honey and were as soft as petals, but the way she kissed wasn’t flower delicate. It was a devouring. He loved every second of it.
Magenta’s fingers worked their way into his overgrown hair and tugged. The tingle in his scalp made him grateful that he rarely remembered to get a haircut. If this was what it felt like to have Magenta hold on to him, then he was keeping his hair long from now on. She gasped into his mouth as his hands slid under her T-shirt to caress he
r back. Her warm, smooth skin was like heaven. He could spend days caressing each and every inch of her.
With a flick of his wrist, he unsnapped her bra. She made a little growling noise and deepened the kiss. Damn, her taste was addictive. Gasping for air, Harry broke the kiss. As fast as he could, he whisked the T-shirt and bra over her head, before she had time to protest. One look into her desire-filled eyes and he knew protesting was the last thing on her mind.
“Admit you love me,” Harry ordered.
Her hands massaged his shoulders, nails digging in and sending spikes of need throughout his body. “Get over yourself, Harry. You’re not that irresistible.” Magenta’s voice was husky and slightly dazed. He smiled against the curve of her neck at the sound.
Breathing deeply of the fragrance that was pure Magenta, he nipped the spot where her shoulder curved into neck and was rewarded by a moan. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders.
“Say you love me,” he said against her skin before he sucked, hoping to leave a mark. “We both know you do. You might as well admit it.”
Her breasts pressed against his chest. She wriggled to make her nipples rub against his hair and murmured in delight. Harry licked a path along her shoulder as he kept his arms tight around her.
“Come on, Magenta, tell me you love me,” he said. “You know you want to.”
He angled her back and glanced at her face. The emotion he saw there stopped his heart. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. He was transfixed. The depth of Magenta’s feelings for him were written in her eyes. They stared at each other for long moments. But still Magenta didn’t speak. With a small smile, Harry broke eye contact, leaned forward and sucked her nipple. Her fingers flew back to his hair as she held on tight. Harry swirled the peak with his tongue. Her moan almost made him lose control.
“Give in, say the words.”
He kissed and sucked and nibbled on her gorgeous flesh, listening with delight as she whimpered and gasped. He felt her shiver under his touch, and sway as her knees weakened. It made him want to roar with delight.
“Not. Going. To. Happen.” Her words were spat out between gasping breaths. “You. Can’t. Make. Me. Say. It.”
He let her nipple go with a satisfying pop as he leaned back to look at her flushed face.
“Is that a challenge?” He could tell by the wide-eyed look that his grin was as wicked as he felt.
Slowly, she smiled back at him with an answering sparkle of mischief in her eyes.
“Bring your A-game, Harry boy—there’s no way you’ll make me say anything I don’t want to.”
With a laugh, he picked her up and threw her back on to the bed. She bounced once with a squeal before he pressed his weight alongside her.
“A-game it is, then,” he told her before capturing her lips with his.
Magenta was smiling when Harry kissed her. Nothing would stop him now. His cavemanly honour was at stake. If she wasn’t giddy with the taste of his decadent lips, she would have giggled.
His big hand smoothed down her side, over the outer curve of her breast, her hip, until it slid under her thigh. He pulled her leg up to him, making space for his hips in the cradle of her thighs. The soft blue jeans he still wore felt almost abrasive against her skin. She wanted them gone. She wanted to feel all of him.
Her fingers danced over the shoulders she loved, and trailed over back muscles that trembled with strength. She wanted to memorise every dip and curve.
