Trouble With Harry

by Myla Jackson

  “That’s right.” Harry maintained his position against the wall. “I could be a murderer for all you know about me.”

  “I’ll take my chances.” Edie couldn’t look away. For some foolish reason, she trusted Harry. And after what they’d shared, she was reluctant to let him out of her sight. Perhaps for selfish reasons, but she liked to think because he needed her in this strange new world he’d landed in.

  “Do you want me to camp out here to be sure?” Mitch asked.

  “That won’t be necessary.” Edie wanted Mitch to leave. But how could she say it nicely when he was trying so hard to protect her? She had to go against her nature, be blunt like her father. “Go home, Mitch. I’ll be okay.”

  “I don’t like it.” He edged toward the door. When he moved past Harry, he glared. “Hurt her and I’ll rip your heart out with my bare hands. Understand?”

  “Go home, Mitch.” Harry let a small smile curl his lips. “You don’t scare me.”

  “I swear, I’ll rip you apart.”

  Edie couldn’t believe the way Mitch was acting so protective. He’d never done that before. What had gotten into him?

  “I’m not going to hurt her,” Harry said. The words were for Mitch, but he stared at her.

  Warmth filled her chest.

  “Call me if you need me, Edie.” With one long, last look, Mitch left, closing the door behind him.

  Which left Edie alone with Harry.

  Her heart rate jumped from normal to overload the minute the door clicked shut. Now what was she supposed to do?

  She knew what she wanted to do. Edie Ragsdale wanted to make love with Harry. Just like they had in front of the cameras. Only this time, alone, in the privacy of her bedroom.

  A glance around the room left other suggestions in her mind. The couch, the rug in front of the gas fireplace, the top of the dining table.

  Her cheeks burned.

  Harry pushed away from the wall and strode across the floor to stand directly in front of her. “I could go stay at Mitch’s, if it would make you more comfortable.”

  Comfortable? Nothing about Harry was comfortable. When he was near, she itched all over—itched to be rid of her clothing—itched in a place she’d barely known existed prior to Harry’s expert tongue.

  If he left now, she’d itch even more. If he stayed at Mitch’s, Edie wouldn’t have to feast her gaze on him every time she turned around. But she’d be up all night kicking herself for letting him out of her sight.

  She spun away and pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks. What did she know about initiating sex?

  Nothing!

  Warm, solid hands clamped over her shoulders. She was pulled against a broad chest, her backside fitting snugly against the faded cotton of his jeans, the solid line of his zipper pushed against her bottom.

  He was as hard as the stone of Azhi.

  For her! Edie. Her heart banged against her rib cage. What should she do? She didn’t know how to be sexy. Hell, she’d missed the teenage lesson on suggestive flirting. Would she be too bold if she suddenly stripped down to her birthday suit and said, “Come on, baby, I’m all yours”?

  Harry’s hands slid up her sides to cup her breasts through the cotton of her pinpoint oxford shirt.

  Her nipples peaked into tight little beads. Did men like pointy nipples or was she better off with the full rounded areolas? Edie’s thoughts scrambled as Harry loosened each round, white button, one at a time.

  When he reached the waistband of her skirt, he tugged the shirttail loose. Then he stopped.

  To keep from wailing and gnashing her teeth, Edie held her breath. Had he changed his mind? Gotten bored with the game? Or, heaven forbid, come to his senses?

  “Tell me no, Edie.” His breath stirred the drying tendrils of hair, tickling the back of her ears.

  Edie shivered.

  “Tell me no, and I won’t go any further.”

  No! Edie almost shouted, but swallowed the one word that could make her dream end. Instead, she forced air past the tightness in her chest, past the lump in her throat. “Don’t stop.”

  There. She’d said it. Part of her wanted to spin around and see his face, read his thoughts in that wickedly black gaze. The other, less assured part of her wanted to close her eyes to keep from waking up. Alone.

  With agonizing slowness, Harry eased the blouse from one of her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her bared skin.

  Edie wiggled, hoping to dislodge the other side so the shirt would slip completely down her back. She wanted to be skin to skin with Harry. Not in a few minutes. Now.

  But she wasn’t experienced and didn’t know if he’d like her flying out of her clothes. Maybe he wanted to take it slow, build up anticipation for himself.

  Holy hell, Edie was already so tightly strung, she didn’t know whether she could hold out much longer. She might explode and do something out of character like jump Harry’s bones and force him to make love to her if he didn’t speed things up a bit.

  Harry’s hands slipped beneath the underwire of her bra. Her head dropped back against his chest, as wave upon wave of hot pulses drummed downward to pool at the center of her sex. Her pussy wept her gratitude for Harry’s magical hands.

  Obviously her body knew how to react but Edie stood paralyzed, unable to move from the spot. She was afraid he’d stop what he was doing as soon as he figured out she didn’t have a clue how to please a man.

  Harry sighed and turned her around.

  With her heart lodged in her throat, Edie was sure Harry’s hesitancy was a bad sign. She was afraid to look into his face and see the boredom. “Oh, Harry, I know I’m not beautiful. You don’t have to make love to me.” She buried her face in the New York Yankees T-shirt. “I won’t wish it this time, so you can back out anytime you want.”

  “What?” Harry’s hands gripped her shoulders and pushed her away from him.

  Cool air shocked her bare belly. Still, she refused to look into his eyes. “You heard me.”

  With a single, crooked finger, he lifted her chin. “I heard, but I can’t believe what I heard. Why?”

  “You don’t have to make love to me this time. I won’t wish it.” She pushed his hands away from her and stepped back.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You only made love to me last time because I wished it.” Tears pooled in her eyes. She shrugged back into her shirt and pulled it tight over her chest. “I don’t want to force you to do anything against your will.”

  “Oh, Edie.” He reached out again.

  Edie took another step backward, her butt hitting the edge of the couch. “I may be less than desirable, but I’m smart.” Her chin raised a notch. “I have my PhD,” she said as if throwing a barrier in front of Harry.

  “Your intelligence is only one of the reasons I find myself attracted to you.” He stalked toward her, his eyes narrow, calculating.

  Without room to maneuver, Edie braced herself, trapped by the couch and the intensity of Harry’s gaze. “Why don’t you go away?”

  “I can’t.” He took another step until he stood an inch away from her.

  “Can’t?” Her lungs labored to suck in tiny little breaths in an attempt to fill the void his nearness created. She could feel the heat from his body without actually touching him. But she wanted to touch him, feel his skin beneath her fingertips. She wanted to lace her hands through gorgeous black hair and feel him between her legs, filling her, loving her.

  “Don’t you remember?” Harry lifted a hand to brush a stray hair back behind her ear. His fingers paused against the pulse beating in her neck. “You own me. Besides you’d have to wish me away.”

  “Oh that?” She cast her gaze around the room, disoriented and slightly giddy from lack of air. When his words sank in, her focus returned. “Oh yeah. You’re supposed to please me. It’s part of the curse.” Her head tilted back and her lips pinched together. “Rest assured, I won’t wish you to make love to me, again. You’re free to mak
e love to anyone you choose. In fact, I’m sure you can find a much more attractive candidate. And more power to you!” What was wrong with her? Had she gotten diarrhea of the mouth? Didn’t she know when to shut up? Did she really want Harry to go out and find someone else?

  Hell no!

  “Oh Harry, this situation is impossible. I wouldn’t blame you if you ran screaming from my apartment. If you want to go stay with Mitch—”

  Harry placed a finger over Edie’s lips stemming her unending flow of words. “Shut up, Edie.”

  Her eyes widened. The rough texture of his finger stirred erotic heat in her blood and lusty thoughts in her mind. Gathering her nerve, she stared into his eyes and kissed the finger covering her lips.

  Harry moaned and stepped closer.

  When he ran his finger across her lower lip, Edie captured it with her teeth and sucked the tip into her mouth. Holy smokes, she’d never done anything so brazen.

  And she liked it.

  His nostrils flared and he inhaled deeply. With his other hand, Harry parted her blouse and trailed a knuckle over her belly and down to the button of her khaki skirt. With a single flick, the button loosened and Harry’s fingers continued their descent, catching her zipper and tugging it downward.

  When the zipper reached the bottom of its track, the skirt hung low over Edie’s hips. A single yank and the skirt fell about her ankles.

  Edie gasped as cool air smoothed over her warm thighs. The only barrier between her and Harry was a tiny scrap of silk bikini underwear.

  Harry dropped to his knee and lifted first one of her legs, then the other, pulling the skirt aside and tossing it to a far corner of the room. He set her foot down, parting her legs enough to slide his hand up the inside of her calf, tickling the sensitive spot behind her knee.

  Edie’s skin was on fire and her pelvis rocked forward wanting him there. Anticipating the warm moisture of his tongue lapping at her sweet spot.

  He pushed her legs farther apart and continued his journey up over her thighs. When he reached the edge of her panties, he glanced up into her eyes.

  “Please,” Edie moaned, completely humbled by him. She was willing to take him any way she could, her pride laid bare by the expectation of Harry shoving his cock deep inside her.

  He dragged the lacy bikini over her hips and down her thighs. “You’re beautiful, Edie. You’re skin is so pure and white.”

  Like a freakin’ ghost, she wanted to say, but at this point, she wasn’t going to argue. She chose to keep her mouth shut in hopes he’d continue on with his lesson on sex.

  “Your freckles are like little sprinkles of rich spice, begging to be tasted.” He touched his tongue to the inside of her thigh and trailed it upward.

  With the care of a master sculptor, he eased his hand over her hips, across her belly and down to part the folds of her labia exposing her to his view. Then he blew a tight stream of air over her pulsing clit.

  “I can’t stand it anymore.” Edie widened her legs and laced her hands through Harry’s ebony hair. “I want you.”

  “And I want you.” Harry licked her.

  Raw bursts of electricity flicked through Edie’s nervous system and she moaned louder. “Oh, Harry, you’re killing me.”

  “I want you, Edie, because you’re beautiful, sexy and smart.” He flicked her clitoris repeatedly with the tight tip of his tongue.

  Edie rode high on a wave of desire, Harry’s words a mere glimmer on the edge of her consciousness. “Ohmigod, Harry. This feels like heaven.” She burst over the edge, her thoughts tumbling like the flecks of colorful confetti in a kaleidoscope.

  He kept her there by laving her over and over until the pleasure was almost painful. Then he rose to his feet.

  Edie collapsed against him, gasping for air and a return to this galaxy.

  Harry wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, then he tipped her chin and sucked her bottom lip into his mouth.

  The taste of her on his lips reminded Edie of the wonder of his ministrations. She ran her hands over his chest and realized he’d never shed a stitch of clothing. Here she was in nothing but an open shirt and bra, and Harry was completely dressed. For a moment she felt deliciously naughty. Then she felt embarrassed and inadequate.

  Wasn’t she supposed to have undressed him? She slid her hands down over his chest, across his flat stomach to the metal button of his jeans.

  There, his hand stopped hers. “You don’t have to.”

  “But I want to please you like you pleased me.” That he’d stopped her, took the wind out of her sails, the confidence out of her actions, but she forged on, increasing pressure against the rivet. With a huff of frustration, she struggled against the rivet, not quite able to undo the damned thing.

  With a kiss to the top of her head, Harry grabbed her wrists. “I don’t think we should do this. You’ll be sore from earlier.”

  “But—” Edie stared up into his face. Then she snapped her hands away from his jeans, suddenly feeling like a gawky teenager on her first date. All her misgivings returned.

  Was this his way of telling her he wasn’t that interested in what she had to offer? All Edie’s doubts raced back in place. Harry didn’t want her. She wasn’t desirable enough. Hell, he was a man. Wouldn’t all men take any screw they could get, even if he had to bag her head so he didn’t have to stare into an ugly face? Maybe that was it. She needed to be bagged.

  Dropping her chin to her chest, she backed away clasping her hands together. “It’s okay, besides, I’m tired, I need to get some sleep…work and all…you know.”

  “Edie…” Harry reached out to her but she evaded his hands and darted for the doorway.

  “No really, I’m exhausted. But let me get you a pillow and blanket.” She dashed into her bedroom, snatched a pillow from her bed, a blanket from the closet shelf and ran back into the living room. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  Before Harry could say anything, she’d closed the door between her bedroom and the living room. Not that a solid wood door would provide enough separation between her and Harry—not when he permeated every one of her waking thoughts. The guy would probably fill her dreams as well. The sooner she got him out of her life, the sooner she could get back to her normal, safe existence.

  Chapter Seven

  Harry tossed on the narrow couch until the beeping sound in Edie’s room signaled the end of an interminable night. Every time he’d closed his eyes, he could see Edie’s pale, freckle-dusted skin against red satin. Then he’d get hard and frustrated and no way he could sleep after that.

  Sounds of feet hitting the floor and running water drifted through the wooden panels, and he could imagine Edie preparing for work.

  Strained and exhausted from lack of sleep, Harry gave up, tossed the blanket off and lumbered to his feet.

  The telephone chirped on the table next to the couch and Harry practically jumped out of his skin before he realized what it was. Who would call this early in the morning? Where had manners gone in the last eighty years?

  The water was still running in the bathroom and the telephone continued to chirp. Should he answer or leave it alone? He hadn’t actually used the telephone since he got here. They looked a far cry different from the ones he’d seen back in his time. But they basically functioned the same.

  He lifted the handle he’d seen Edie talk into and pressed it to his ear. “Hello?”

  “Edie?” a man’s voice said into Harry’s ear. “No, this is Harry.”

  “I’m sorry, I must have the wrong number.”

  “No, Edie’s in the shower. Is there something you need me to tell her?”

  Quiet created a void in Harry’s ear and he almost thought he’d lost the connection.

  “Are you the gigolo my daughter’s shacking up with?” the man demanded.

  So this was Edie’s father, the man who’d made such a beautiful woman feel ugly. The hackles rose on the back of his neck. If the other man were s
tanding in front of him, Harry would be hard pressed not to punch him. Since he was a guest in Edie’s home, he refrained from saying what he thought and concentrated on answering the man’s question. Although a little confused by the older man’s phraseology, he’d gotten the gist. “If you mean am I staying here, yes.”

  “I thought so.” Another long pause. “Tell her to call me back.” The words weren’t a request, they were a command. The line clicked and a solid bell tone filled Harry’s ear.

  “Was someone on the phone?”

  Harry swung around at the sound of Edie’s voice.

  Wearing a blue-green robe her hair wrapped in a towel, she looked young, fresh and entirely too kissable.

  Harry’s cock stirred before she spoke again, his body too quick to react to her presence. He hoped she didn’t notice the way his zipper bulged out in the jeans he’d slept in. “It was your father.”

  With her auburn eyebrows wrinkling, she bit her lower lip. “What did he say?”

  “What is a gigolo?” Harry asked.

  Edie rolled her eyes. “He never gives up. It’s a man who takes money for sex.”

  “Like a whore?”

  “Yeah, a male whore, I guess you could say.”

  A smile curved his lips. “I think I’ve been insulted.”

  “Yes, most likely, knowing my father.” A lopsided smile slid up one side of her cheek.

  Harry wanted to kiss her even more. “He wanted you to call him.”

  She pulled the towel from her hair and rubbed at the damp tresses. “Did he say why?”

  “No.”

  Edie pulled the telephone from Harry’s hands.

  When her fingers brushed against his, shockwaves passed up his arms and straight downward to his groin. The fresh scent of the floral soap she used in her shower drifted beneath his nose. He should be ashamed of his thoughts. As Mitch had pointed out, Edie had been a virgin only yesterday and Harry had taken that away from her. Now, all he wanted to do was take her again and again.

  His fists tightened as he repressed the urge to reach out and take her in his arms. Damn it, what did he have to offer her? He didn’t have a job in this century nor did he have a place to live. And he’d run into the same issues he had with his former fiancée—he liked to live a life of adventure in faraway places and austere conditions definitely not a place for a woman as refined as Edie Ragsdale. She’d probably never even been on a campout.