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An image of large hands gripping her thighs and holding them apart as a dark head lowered between them and a mouth, hot and wet, kissing her intimately made her melt until he looked up and barked orders at her. A bubble of nervous laughter rolled up her throat and burst from her lips followed by another and another.
“I really don’t see what’s so funny?” Harker’s dry tone made her laugh harder.
“I’m…I’m sorry. No. It’s not funny.” She dropped onto the bed laughing.
“Please explain it to me. I could use a laugh today.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just…you…no, not you.” She took a deep breath. “The idea of you…and me…and you barking at me when you’re…doing that.” She waved her hand by the tops of her thighs. “I can hear you now.” She lowered her voice to imitate him. “Alison, I need a timeline for your completion. I need to see your project plan, so I know when you’ll finish.” Another burst of laughter flew from her.
“I see.” He turned and strode toward the door.
“Wait. I’m sorry. I won’t laugh. It’s not funny. I just…” She giggled and his back stiffened before he slammed the door behind him.
CHAPTER 22: Alison
It took several minutes but Alison finally got her laughter under control. She was an asshole. Harker had been trying to be sexy, and she’d laughed in his face. The alcohol in her stomach gurgled. She’d messed up and the worst part was now she had to find him and apologize. He was a nice guy and she’d hurt him.
She left the room and headed for his office. She’d apologize and maybe they could have a wedding night. She bit her lip to keep from giggling at the thought of kissing him. He’d probably tell her she was doing it wrong.
No, damn it. She had to stop thinking like that or she’d laugh again, and she wasn’t sure their marriage—she giggled—the sham that it was, could withstand that.
She stumbled down the hallway and knocked on his office door, but he didn’t answer. She opened it and the room was empty. He’d been in the library earlier tonight.
She headed across the house and stopped in the doorway. The room was dark except for the light from a small lamp on the desk. He stood with his back to her, staring out the window into the night. His dark hair brushed against the collar of his white shirt. Too bad she didn’t have her phone. It would’ve been a great picture—the dark night matching his hair and the moon as white as his shirt. It could’ve been a horror movie if he’d left on his bloodstained one. She snorted back a laugh.
“What do you want?” He didn’t turn around.
“I’m sorry.” She took a small step toward him. “I didn’t mean to laugh.”
He didn’t reply.
“I couldn’t help it. I’ve had too much to drink.”
“Do not use alcohol as an excuse.” He spun around, his dark eyes unreadable. “Alcohol and drugs exaggerate who we are and what we think. They don’t make us do or say things that aren’t already inside of us.”
“I know but I am sorry.”
“Me too.”
“I…I’m really nervous. I talk too much when I’m nervous.”
“Only then?”
She made a face at him. “You knew I talked a lot when you agreed to this.”
“But I didn’t know you laughed a lot.” A glint of humor sparkled in his dark eyes.
“I laugh all the time. You’ve even made comments.”
“Yes, but you weren’t laughing at me.”
“Keep believing that,” she joked.
His lips turned up in a small grin. “Is this a common thing with you? Laughing at me?” He took a step toward her.
Her nerves started arcing again. “I don’t know if I’d say common, but I wouldn’t call it uncommon either.”
“Please tell me. What do you find so amusing about me?” He stalked closer. “Many find my dry wit entertaining but no one has ever burst into a fit of laughter over it.”
