He opened his mouth, but words completely escaped him. Damn.
She turned on him, hands on her hips. He was so busy trying to decide where to look—hot legs, hot breasts, hot face—that he missed the look in her eyes.
He got a good look, though, when she grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt and slammed him back against the wall.
The look of pure unadulterated rage that lit her eyes was hot enough to peel the flesh from his bones. “We’re going to talk, Noah Riddick. Right fucking now.”
Her strappy black sandals gave her an extra three inches in height. The top of her head still barely cleared his shoulder. There was no way she could hold him there, even if she used her full body weight to do it. But something about the brittle tone of her voice told him not to point that out.
“OK,” he said carefully.
“And don’t look at me like that,” she snapped.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m crazy.”
He raised a brow and she growled at him—honest to God growled at him.
“Look, I’ve had a great night. A really great night. Do you know why I’m not happy?"
He assumed it was a rhetorical question, so he jumped a little when she screeched, “Answer me!”
“No,” he said, raising his hands in surrender.
“I was on a date tonight. With Lucas.”
If that bastard did something to her, he’d kill him. “What happened?”
“He spoke to me. Actually spoke to me, Riddick. Unlike you, who acts like conversation is a form of punishment.”
He frowned. “I don’t—”
She shoved him back into the wall again, cutting off the rest of his sentence. “Then, he kissed me.”
Riddick rubbed his chest absently. Okay, so he wouldn’t kill the guy. Maiming had possibilities, though. Yeah, maiming was good.
“Do you know what I felt?”
Hopefully it wasn’t what he was feeling now, because he was pretty sure he was having a heart attack. Soon to be followed by a murderous rampage.
She saved him the trouble of answering by saying, “Nothing, Riddick. I felt nothing. Do you know why?”
He shook his head, still unable to find words.
“Because he wasn’t you, you commitment-phobic, emotional wreck of a man, you. How pathetic is that?”
He was pretty sure he had the market cornered on pathetic.
The fire in her eyes died down a little and she suddenly looked very tired. “Look, I was going to try and get you to come to me, but that obviously isn’t going to happen, so, Riddick, I need to know once and for all, other than lust, what do you feel for me?”
He sighed. “I told you—”
She slapped his stomach with the back of her hand. “No! Don’t you dare try to tell me what’s good for me and why you shouldn’t be with me. God damn it, how do you feel about me?”
He felt his temper rise a little. Partially in response to hers, but partially because it wasn’t in his nature to take a beating. And then there was her complete lack of regard for how he’d been torturing himself for weeks, missing her, wanting her, but knowing she was better off without him and staying away.
“I said everything I had to say three days ago,” he said through clenched teeth.
She pushed him again so hard his head slammed into the wall. Her wordless growl had his blood pressure spiking in response.
“You didn’t tell me shit,” she seethed. “Tell. Me.”
“There’s nothing else I can tell you.”
“Tell. Me.”
“God damn it, Harper, I’m trying to do the right thing for once. Why won’t you let me?”
“Fuck that. Tell. Me.”
He felt a muscle in his jaw tick. “I can’t—”
She tried to shove him again and he reversed their positions, pressing her back against the wall and slamming his palms on either side of her head hard enough to dent the drywall.
“Tell me,” she said again, though with an uncertainty that he hadn’t heard since she first came through his door.
“Fine,” he hissed. “You want to talk? Let’s talk.”
Harper gulped, instantly regretting her strategy, or lack thereof. She’d seen this look before. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to fuck her or kill her. Always before he’d looked like fucking had a slight edge over killing. Now she wasn’t so sure.
He leaned in so that his mouth was just an inch away from hers. It would have felt intimate if not for the raw anger rolling off him in waves.
“You want to know how I feel about you? Fine. You’re rash and impatient and you seem to care about everyone in the fucking world more than you care about yourself, which makes you go balls-before-brains into just about every dangerous situation you come across.”
Her jaw dropped. Not exactly the answer she’d expected. She sucked in a breath to defend herself—preferably at a high volume and with many colorful adjectives—and he slapped a hand over her mouth.
“You said you wanted me to talk, which means you’ll need to shut the fuck up.”
Harper narrowed her eyes and thought about biting him, but decided against it. Hell, he was right. She’d baited him into this conversation. She’d better just shut up and let him finish.
After a second of glaring down into her eyes, he pulled his hand away. “And just when I’m sure the only way I’ll ever get a damn minute’s peace again is to strangle you, you smile and I forget about all the shit you put me through.” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “It’s like the whole damn world lights up just because you smile. How fucked up is that?”
Her eyes widened. Did he just admit that he…
But he wasn’t done yet. “And then, when I’m with you, it hurts—actually hurts—not to touch you. I can’t think straight when you’re around, but I can’t concentrate when you’re not because I’m too busy worrying about you, missing you or wondering what you’re doing.”
He shoved one hand through his hair and slammed the other into the wall by her head. “I never wanted to feel like this. Never. I’m obsessed. Crazy. I have no control. I’m—”
“In love,” she whispered.
He threw his hands up again. “Fuck, either that or I’m stalking you. How would I know the difference?”
Tears filled her eyes, but he went on.
“Being a natural has always kept me…separate from normal people. I never really knew what it was to be human until I met you. Now I’ve got an overprotective mother, a brother, sisters, friends.” He chuckled without humor. “They’re yours, but still, you gave me that. I have a life only because of you, and honestly, I’m not sure that I wasn’t better off before. I’m not…equipped for this kind of thing.”
She grabbed his shirt again. “You’ve always been human. That has nothing to do with me. You’re a good person, Riddick.”
His gaze softened, and the naked emotion in his eyes sucker-punched her. He shook his head. “I have absolutely no idea what you see in me, but whatever it is, it’s good. And you make me want to be that guy. The guy who deserves to be with you.”
“You deserve to have anything you want,” she said, her voice breaking. “You are that guy.”
He brushed her tear away with his thumbs. “I’m not,” he said quietly. “Not yet. But I want to be.”
Oh my God, she thought. He was caving.
He rested his forehead on hers and it took every bit of self-control she had not to kiss him.
“And despite everything, Harper—what I know is right, what I know I’m not ready for—I don’t care anymore. I’m damn tired of fighting you.”
He lifted his head, took a deep breath, then went on, “So, here it is: I’ve never had a…relationship before. I will make mistakes. I’ll say and do stupid things because I don’t know any better. I’ll probably never be good at talking about stuff.” He looked a little revolted by the thought. “And I’m sure that at some point you’ll want to kill me in my sleep. But I can promise this: no
man will ever try harder to deserve you than I will.”
“You love me,” she said, shaking her head. “You really do.”
Not only that, she saw as he looked down into her eyes. Need. He needed her.
Her hands drifted up into his hair, tugging his head down toward hers.
His eyes narrowed on her. “This is it, Harper. This is your last chance to come to your senses. Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll leave you alone.”
It was a plea. A plea combined with him looking like he’d die if she did as he begged.
She’d never been so sure of anything in her life as she was in this moment. “I don’t care that you’ll make mistakes. I’ll make them too. We’ll learn how to not make them together. And from now on, I don’t care if you don’t want to talk. I’d rather sit in silence with you than talk to anyone on this planet. You’re selfless and brave and really hot.” Then to get back at him for the not-so-sweet things he said about her, she added, “You’re also dark and moody and a little crazy, but hey, nobody’s perfect and I’m willing to overlook all that.”
His eyes met hers, still searching. She shook her head in wonder. “I can’t believe you think I’d ask you to leave me alone. I’ve loved you almost from the beginning, Noah Riddick. And if you don’t kiss me soon, I’m going to—”
He didn’t kiss her. Instead, he chucked her over his shoulder and moved purposefully to the bedroom. He tossed her on the mattress without preamble, following her down, their bodies never losing contact.
She knew she’d remember the look in his eyes forever. Then his mouth met hers and thought escaped her completely.
Harper had no idea how long they stayed like that, lips locked, feeding countless hot, open-mouthed kisses to one another. It could have been minutes or hours or days. She wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t sure she cared.
Also a mystery was how they’d both ended up naked without their mouths ever breaking contact. She imagined ripped fabric was involved. And again, she wasn’t sure she cared. All she knew for sure was that if she didn’t get him inside her soon, she was going to die.
“Hurry,” she said on a moan as his lips shifted from her mouth to her throat.
He lifted his head and the smile he gave her was full of pure, unadulterated sin. “I’ve waited my whole life for you. There’s no way in hell I’m rushing this.”
His hand started in her hair, then began a slow, torturous slide down her neck, over her shoulder, her rib cage—skipping her breast, nearly making her choke back a sob of longing—before coming to rest lightly on her hip. Then his gaze followed the same path, and somehow, the weight of his gaze had much the same effect his hand had.
When his eyes met hers again, they were filled with something akin to awe. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.
Tears leapt to her eyes. The way he looked at her made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. No one had ever looked at her the way Riddick did.
He kissed her cheek where a tear had started to trail toward her mouth. Pulling back enough to look into her eyes, he asked, “Are you OK?”
She was so much better than OK. She nodded but couldn’t force any words past the lump in her throat.
He looked concerned enough to stop, so before he could do anything stupid—like put on clothes—she reached up and slid her hands over his chest.
She’d lost hours of her life fantasizing about what those hard, defined ridges and contours would feel like under her fingertips. For once in her life, her imaginings couldn’t hold a candle to reality.
His skin was hot to the touch, and muscles jumped and tensed as her fingers brushed over each and every one. Riddick’s eyes slid shut and he groaned before capturing her mouth with his once again.
Harper’s senses were in overload. The slide of his skin across hers, the sound of her heart pounding in her ears, the feel of his pounding against her breast, the hot, sweet taste of his tongue as it twined with hers…it was too much. She might die if they didn’t stop, but she most certainly would if they did.
He kissed her like he was starving and only she could save him. She groaned as his mouth left hers, then moaned as it slid down the column of her throat.
Harper suddenly realized there was way too much space between them. He was holding his weight off her in that way men did when they were afraid of crushing a woman.
Screw that.
She cupped her hand around his nape and yanked with all her strength. Caught off guard, he fell on her.
Skin on skin, every conceivable part touching, Harper trembled as Riddick’s hoarse groan raised goose bumps across her skin.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and he bit off a curse, making her smile. Take it slow, would he? They’d just see about that.
Her smug smile lapsed as he slid down her body, closing his mouth over one of her breasts, tugging gently on her nipple with his teeth. She gasped and tangled her hands in his hair, urging him on. He sucked her other nipple into his mouth, pulling hard enough to make her entire body clench with need.
“Oh my God,” she moaned. “You need to be in me now.”
He trembled, but slid purposefully lower, ignoring her plea.
His tongue traced her belly button and her body practically vibrated with tension.
“Sorry,” she muttered, “but we’re going to have to take it slow next time.”
In a slick move she’d probably never be able to replicate, she wrapped her arms around his torso, slid her body down on the bed and arched her hips forcefully up, impaling herself on his impossibly hard, long length.
She was so wet the penetration had been smooth and fast. His eyes flared with shock, but he recovered quickly, wrapping an arm under her hips as he withdrew a little, then plunged forward, deeper this time.
A gasping cry tore from her throat as pleasure lashed her so hard it was nearly painful. She grabbed his hips, ready to beg him to take her hard and fast, but he caught her wrists in one hand and pinned them over her head.
“I said we were going to take it slow,” he growled, his mouth on hers.
“You’re killing me.”
He chuckled and took full advantage of the way their position arched her breasts by suckling her nipples, gentle and fierce all at once.
Lying between her legs, he began sliding in and out of her with deep but infuriatingly slow strokes, as if he had all night to devote to the task.
“Let me go,” she begged, desperately pulling against his hold.
His tongue dipped into the hollow at the base of her throat. “No,” he whispered. “For once, we’re doing things my way.”
His way was good, she’d probably be willing to admit later. Really, really good. But for now, he was killing her.
With no small amount of effort, she managed to hook one leg around his waist and planted her other foot behind his knee, pulling him deeper within her. Her moan melded with his and he blessedly picked up the pace, briefly forgetting his desire to torture her.
But her relief was short lived as he pulled out completely. Her shriek of outrage ended on a choked gasp as he slid down her body and closed his mouth over her hot, slick flesh.
A long, slow lick of his tongue paralyzed her. Her arms, still raised over her head where he’d left them, went limp and her thighs fell apart. Sounds she was sure she’d never made in her life, animalistic sounds of pure pleasure, fell from her lips as his tongue sought her depths.
The tension within her built, coiling tighter and tighter, intense in the extreme. And when his mouth closed over her clitoris and sucked, she broke, screaming his name.
Riddick slid into her again before the last of her body’s tremors ceased. Panting for breath, eyes soft and dreamy, lips parted and wet…God, had he ever seen anything so beautiful?
He withdrew, then thrust back in hard and deep. Sweat trickled down his chest. He wasn’t going to last much longer.
She licked his neck and moaned as he shuddered. Her hands trailed down his sides an
d up over his back. “You feel so good,” she whispered. She clenched her inner muscles around him and he was pretty sure that if she did that again, he’d come.
Her tongue traced her lower lip and reached between their bodies, her hand circling him where they were joined. “Mmm…you’re so hard. I love how you feel sliding into me.” She moaned as he did just that and he was pretty sure he’d have a heart attack if his pulse raced any faster. At the very least, his brain exploded and whatever control he’d had left snapped as if it had never been.
He drove into her again and again, fast and hard until she screamed his name again, her entire body clenching. He followed a moment later, letting the pulse of her orgasm milk him dry.
It took several moments for their breathing to slow to a somewhat normal rhythm. Riddick shifted so that she sprawled across him.
“I can’t feel my legs,” Harper said into his chest.
He let his hand drift down. “I can. They feel great.”
She lifted her head to stare down at him. “Still think we don’t make a great team?”
He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I love you,” he whispered.
Her answering smile was blinding. “I know.”
Later, with Harper asleep in his arms, Riddick did something he couldn’t remember ever doing. He prayed.
“Please, God,” he murmured into Harper’s hair. “Don’t let me fuck this up.”
Chapter Forty
Three nights later, Riddick took a seat next to Mischa at Clary’s and glanced at Harper as she set a tray of empty glasses on the bar.
Apparently, she’d managed to talk herself into a gig as a weekend waitress. The job didn’t require her to wear spandex and a two-sizes-too-small tank top. Pity that.
Mischa nodded a greeting at him and handed him a beer.
She was one of the few people on earth who understood him well enough to know he’d rather sit in silence then make pointless small talk, so neither of them bothered speaking for a long time.
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