Page 155 of The Unwilling Bride
"It helps me sleep."
"I thought I helped you sleep," she says only half-jokingly.
I shoot her a sideways glance.
She flushes. "That came out wrong." She plops the spoon back in the ice cream tub. "I only meant?—"
"I know what you meant." I hold out my hand.
She places the tub of ice cream in my palm.
I take a spoonful. The cloying sweetness coats my palate and clogs my taste buds. I gag. Manage to swallow it down.
"What. The. Fuck…was that?"
She looks at my face and giggles.
I slap the tub of ice cream on the coffee table, reach for my whiskeyglass and realize it’s empty, then snatch up her wineglass. I take a sip, make a face, and put it down.
"I’ll get you another, big guy." She jumps up from the couch, grabs my glass and takes it to the counter where I placed the bottle.
Unable to stay apart from her, I rise from the settee and follow her.
41
Harper
I reach the whiskey bottle and add a finger. Then add three cubes of ice. Just the way he likes it. I turn to find him standing right behind me.
"Oh, I didn’t hear you."
"I’m light-footed." He takes a step forward, so I step back.
My back hits the counter. I gasp, looking up into his eyes. "What are you doing?" I whisper.
He takes the glass from me, then takes a sip, before setting it aside. He lowers his head, and when I open my mouth, he dribbles the whiskey into my mouth. The taste of oak and caramel combined with the burn of alcohol warms my palate.
I swallow, and then his mouth is on mine. Hard lips. The feel of his tongue plundering my mouth. I moan. Instantly, he grabs me under my thighs and places me on the counter.
I lock my legs around him. He wraps his arm around my back, bending me over it as he deepens the kiss. I feel the impact to the tips of my toes, to the ends of my hair strands. My fingertips tingle. My skinitches with the need to get closer. I throw my arms around him and lean in as close as I can.
He makes a growling noise at the back of his throat. All the cells in my body seem to wake up. I kiss him back with an ardor I've never experienced before. I want to crawl under his skin and fuse myself to him. I whimper, grab the front of his shirt and tug.
The world tilts.
He pushes me down onto the counter, on my back, continuing to kiss me. He cups my breast through the shirt I’m wearing. Heat from his palm makes it feel like he’s branding me. I strain to lift up, but suddenly, he has his fingers around my throat, holding me down. I gasp, staring into those blue eyes which have gone almost indigo with lust. He wants me. He really wants me.
He squeezes gently, and it’s like my blood has turned to gasoline, and someone lit a match in my veins. The jolt of sensations takes me by surprise. I moan.
The sound seems to snap him out of the sexual haze he’s fallen into. His eyes clear. He pulls away and looks down at where he has his fingers around my throat. He begins to loosen them, but I place my hand on his. "I like it."
He hesitates. "You…like it?"
"I do."
He searches my face as if trying to figure out if there’s any other meaning behind the words I’m saying. I need to reassure him that he’s not hurting me when he applies pressure around my throat like that.
"That night when you began to choke me in your bed, I knew you’d never hurt me. I knew you’d stop before it got dangerous. But also… Also, it made me feel things deep inside."
