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"We need to get you inside, out of the cold," Harlow said, lifting her in his arms again.
He carried her upstairs, then set her down, but he didn't let go.
"Are you all right?" he asked, worry darkening his eyes.
She shook her head. "I want you to keep kissing me."
"Are you sure?"
"Fuck, yes, Harlow. I want you to kiss me and not stop." This time, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
Just as perfect as the first time...
In a blissful daze, she stripped off her coat and toed off her shoes. Her shirt followed them to the floor.
"Octavia, your...you...you're perfect." He cupped her breasts in reverent worship, as she struggled to get rid of the bra next.
Pants, pants...his or hers? Hers, definitely. Jeans took a little more work than track pants, after all. But she managed to step out of them, still kissing him.
"This is madness, but I want to take you to bed. I shouldn't...as your protector, I mustn't..." he began between kisses.
"I want this, too. Just as much as you do. Take me to bed, Harlow. Please." God, was she begging? She was, and it felt right. Everything felt right. His hands beneath her arse as he lifted her, carried her to the bed, and set her down so carefully. The dark desire in his eyes as he crawled up the bed to kneel between her parted thighs, before he dipped his head to turn that wicked mouth on her breasts.
She arched her back, moaning as he sucked on one nipple, then the other, stroking her with both hands.
Was it possible to come from him just playing with her breasts? She didn't think it was, but God it felt good. So good she wanted his hands to dip lower, into...shit, she still had her underwear on. That had to go.
She wriggled out of her knickers and tossed them onto the floor. "Please, Harlow," she begged.
He reached for her cheek and kissed her again, slow and languorously.
She liked his kisses well enough, but she wanted more. More than just kisses and caresses. She wanted...
A thick finger slid between her thighs, stroking her from the inside. "I've never known a woman to be so wet before," he marvelled.
"Because I want you!"
A second finger joined the first, before his thumb pressed against her clit. Octavia didn't have words any more – the only sound that left her lips was an incoherent moan as he pleasured her, far more thoroughly than any machine could. She came so hard she saw stars for a moment, before Harlow's grinning face came into view.
"I think you must be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen right now. I could pleasure you all night, and all tomorrow, too. But what I really want is to make love to you, to take you as a man takes his wife. But as we are not wed, I would not wish to ruin you, or leave you with child. I would never forgive myself if..."
"Condoms. In the drawers, over there," Octavia breathed, pointing. "It's a sort of sheath you fit over your cock so the girl doesn't get pregnant. People have been buying them for me since Tacey got pregnant with Rory. Use whichever one you like. I swear, I probably have a lifetime's supply of the things in here."
Harlow opened first one drawer, then the one beneath it. "There's nothing in here," he said.
She sat up. That wasn't possible.
Except...it was. There wasn't a single condom in any of the drawers, or the cupboard, either. Surely Rochelle and Ben hadn't...she'd only been away a few weeks. No one could possibly have used that many condoms. No one.
Unless the burglar who'd broken her computer had stolen them?
What kind of nutjob stole novelty condoms, for fuck's sake?
"I'll buy some in the morning, so tomorrow. Tomorrow we can..."
He cut her off with a kiss. "Then I shall pleasure you all night. I can wait."
Even as they returned to bed, his fingers worked their magic, so the complaint on the tip of her tongue that she didn't want to wait was lost in a moan of pure pleasure, and she surrendered to him completely soon after.
