Page 44 of Puck, Marry, Kill

We say our good nights, and he hugs a new-looking polar bear in a Blizzard jersey to his chest. He must’ve gotten it as a souvenir. I pause at the door, glancing back at Harley. He really is a sweet kid, which is a testament to Briar.

My plan is to tell her that, but when I go back to the living room, I find her lying on the couch, fast asleep. A smile steals across my face. Yes, another one. I can’t help it. Even though I truly wanted to talk to her about the game and more, she deserves to rest. She does so much, for so many people. So I’m quiet as I grab a blanket from a basket and lay it over her, tucking her in too.

I should go. Just let myself out the front door, but I can’t do it. I want to stay by her side, just soak in her presence, and protect her while she sleeps. From what? I don’t know, but I can’t leave. I’m nearly silent as I sit down in a chair across from her, sprawling out and simply watching her. She looks peaceful, relaxed, and comfortable. And slowly, I relax too. Until ...

The gasp yanks me from sleep, putting me on high alert instantly, although I’m confused as to where I am at first.

“Harley?” Briar’s sleep-scratchy voice orients me quickly.

I blink to focus, finding her sitting upright on the couch, hair tousled and eyes wild. “It’s okay. I tucked him in hours ago,” I say, glancing at the time on the microwave in the kitchen.

“I fell asleep?” she asks. “What’re you doing here?”

“Watching you sleep like a creeper,” I joke as I stretch my arms overhead. “Until I fell asleep too.”

“Guess I’m not great company after ten p.m.” She reaches up to smooth her hair. I should tell her that there’s a bump right at the top that’s sticking up wildly, but I don’t. It’s adorable, making her look freshly fucked more than freshly woken up. “You want a drink or something? I have soda, juice, water ...” She trails off, listing out drinks like this is a kid’s playdate.

I want to drink her, swallow down her goodness so that I don’t feel like such an asshole. “I’m okay.”

The air in the room feels thick with “now what?” energy. We could talk. We could kiss. We could fuck.

“I should go,” I offer.

At the same time, Briar says, “Want to sit with me?” She’s thrown off the blanket I covered her with, creating a spot for me beside her on the couch.

I take her up on the invite, moving to her side. “Thank you for coming tonight. It meant more to me than you could possibly realize.”

“Thank you for inviting us.”

All manners and polite civility. Except our eyes are filled with desire. Gazes dancing from lips to chest to eyes.

I should hold back, let her lead again. I know I should. If I touch her, right here and now, I may not be able to stop. I’ll claim her, mark her, make her mine until her eyes, heart, and soul proclaim it with every breath she takes. But fuck ... I want her so damn badly. And I’ve been holding back for so long, forever it seems.

With a groan signaling the last tenuous grip on restraint I possess, I reach for her. Threading my hands into her hair, I cradle her head, bringing her mouth to mine as I go to her, desperately meeting her halfway.

I don’t sip at her. I don’t drink her slowly. No, I devour her like the starving man that I’ve become. Starved for her, for her kindness and pure heart. Her lips part, or maybe I force my way in, but in seconds, our tongues touch, igniting my hunger even more.

Thankfully, she’s with me, meeting my passion with an unexpected fire of her own. She shifts, trying to get a better angle, and I grab for her hips, pulling her into my lap. The heat of her pussy right over the thick ridge of my dick is heaven and hell at the same time. I want to feel more of it, but I also want to explore the rest of Briar and save that for a final prize.

So I kiss her. And keep kissing her. I let my hands trace over her face, her back, down to squeeze her ass. I make out with Briar like I’m a teenage virgin who doesn’t know the pleasures that await beyondmerely merging our mouths. And it’s amazing. The new best part of my day for sure.

Do we make out for minutes or hours? I don’t even know, but at one point, she presses her forehead to mine. Panting for breath, she whispers, “We can’t.”

I try to rein myself in, slow my own racing heartbeat. “We can.”

She takes a measured inhale. “I can’t. Harley ...”

Okay. It’s clicking together. We definitely can’t have sex for the first time on the couch when Harley is asleep down the hall. Definitely not. I groan as she shifts over me again and grip her hips, stilling her. “I understand, but if you keeping moving like that, I’m gonna come anyway.”

She pulls back, staring at me with shock-filled wide eyes. “You’re about to come? I’m just sitting here.”

I look at her incredulously. “Briar, I could come just thinking about you, so feeling your sweet heat has me right on the edge of making a fool of myself.”

Pink rises in her cheeks. “Really?”

“Really,” I assure her as I push her hair back from her face. “I think I’ve been on edge since that night at O’Neal’s.”

She huffs out a tiny laugh, not believing me. This woman truly has no idea what she does to me, and even less about the things I want to do to her.