by Aven Ellis
You already are, I think as his lips meet mine. And you can be my Prince Harry every night for the rest of my life if you want to.
Harrison gives me a sweet kiss, and I inhale his warm, spicy vanilla scent. I relish the feel of his freshly shaven skin against my face and lose myself in his arms.
“You know, Gorgeous,” Harrison whispers sexily against my mouth, “I feel like a game. Care to play?”
Then he kisses me again, this time, his mouth claiming a bit more of mine.
“Yes,” I murmur back against his soft lips.
Harrison lifts his head. He entwines my fingers around his and leads me over to the pool table, leaning me against it.
“So if we were playing, oh, let’s say strip pool, which we are not, you’d have to take something off if you missed a shot.”
Oh God I don’t think I can stand how sexy Harrison is at this moment.
I look up at him and see a wicked gleam in his eyes.
“Those rules sound about right,” I say, staring up at him.
Harrison goes around me, to the other side of the pool table. “Well, I’m a shitty pool player. Like if I were to take a shot right now, I’d miss.”
Then I watch as he unbuckles the black leather bracelet on his left wrist and places it on the pool table.
“So, Kylie, if you were taking a shot, would you miss?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow up at me.
I see the way Harrison is looking at me. I know he’s not comparing me with previous models or actress. He wants me, I think with amazement. Harrison wants me.
Suddenly I feel beautiful and desired in a way I’ve never felt before.
And I feel sexy enough to play this game with him.
“As it so happens, Harrison Flynn, I never acquired pool playing skills,” I say. I slide my bangle off my wrist and gently drop it on to the red felt top of the pool table.
“Pity,” Harrison says, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.
Holy shit. I watch as he takes off his shirt, revealing his completely ripped abs and chest. He has the body of a hockey warrior, all muscle, all hard, completely powerful and athletic.
He casually takes his shirt and tosses it on to the pool table.
“Your shot.”
I bend down and remove my sandals, putting them on the table.
Harrison laughs. “Oh, Kylie, that’s not quite the shot I was hoping you’d take.”
I smile wickedly at him. “It wasn’t? As you would say, ‘pity.’ But I do believe it’s your turn, Mr. Flynn.”
Harrison reaches for his jeans waistband and takes off his belt. “I think,” he says slowly, unsnapping his jeans button, “I accidentally took two turns in a row.” Then he gets out of his jeans and I draw a sharp breath as he does.
He’s now in boxers, but his legs—I have never seen such huge, muscular legs in my life. Skater’s legs, I think as my heart begins pounding.
“I can already see you’re going to miss your next shot,” Harrison says deliberately, his eyes burning into mine. “So why don’t I help you?”
I feel my body tremble as he comes around to me. He takes the zipper of my blouse and very slowly drags it downward, revealing the ivory and pink lace demi-bra I’m wearing.
“Kylie,” he whispers as he stares at me. He gently slides his hands underneath my blouse, to my shoulders, and carefully eases my blouse off. “You take my breath away.”
Harrison begins kissing me, and now I feel his warm, golden skin against mine. I’m still shaking. I run my hands over his cut abs and hard chest, and he reaches for the button on my jeans. He undoes it, slowly, so slowly, and then slides my jeans over my hips.
“I,” he murmurs against his mouth, “need to see more of you.”
Oh God. My pulse is skyrocketing. My heart is pounding. I take off my jeans and stand before him in my lace bra and panties.
Harrison’s eyes move over me. “God, you’re so beautiful.”
He draws me closer. This time I kiss him hard on the mouth, and he responds with a moan. My hands are in his hair, and his arms are wrapped around me, pressing me into the pool table.
Then Harrison lifts me up. I instinctively wrap my legs around him and put my hands around the back of his neck, caressing his ginger curls as we kiss.
“Let’s go to the bedroom, Gorgeous,” he murmurs against my mouth.
Heat sears through me as he carries me down the hall. I’m totally lost in him, this man who is looking at me with so much desire I can barely stand it.
I have never felt this way. Never. I need this man. Now.
We reach the master suite and Harrison lays me down on the king-sized bed. I see candles flickering everywhere and the scent of jasmine infuses the room.
He thought of this, I think as I kiss him. Harrison wanted this night to be sexy and romantic.
Harrison’s fingers are skimming along the lacy edge of my bra. He slides the straps down to my shoulders. Then his mouth trails down my neck, to the base of my throat.
“God I love your skin,” he whispers before moving his lips down my chest. “Your softness, your scent. Everything.”
I run my hands through his hair, lifting his head toward mine. He kisses me on the mouth, a hot lingering kiss that leaves no question where we’re about to go.
“I have protection,” he whispers in between kisses.
“Yes,” I whisper back. “I . . . I brought some, too. In case . . . you know . . . to be prepared.”
Harrison laughs softly. “You were a Girl Scout, weren’t you?” He kisses me again.
“Shut up,” I laugh against his lips.
We both start laughing but then Harrison stops. He pushes himself up for a moment and stares at me with nothing but tenderness in his eyes. “I want you,” he whispers, staring at me seriously, “all of you.”
I feel my eyes fill with tears. “And I want you. Only you.”
Harrison links my hand with his and closes his mouth over mine. And with those words, in a candlelit penthouse high above the city of Dallas, I followed my heart.
And I gave it to my Prince Harry.
Chapter 16
The Pop Quiz Question: You have just slept with your date. You feel:
A) Relaxed. Who doesn’t feel that way after good sex?
B) Shit, where is my bra? I need to get out of here before he wants to cuddle.
C) Like I have finally found the person who completes me and makes me whole.
“So I have this panoramic view of Dallas all around me,” Harrison says softly, “of the twinkling lights on the skyscrapers, of the sun setting in the sky, but the only thing I want to look at is you.”
I blush as I lay cradled in Harrison’s arms. I turn and gaze up at him, the man I have just made love with, and find his eyes looking nowhere but at me.
His lips brush against mine, and I feel warmth flood through me. My God, I have never felt like this. When we made love, there was a connection. He’s my other half, I felt that instantly. Harrison is the man I’ve been waiting for, but never knew it. Our sex was steamy and playful, romantic and passionate. Harrison instinctively knew how to please me, and I him.
Because we’re meant for each other, I think. He is my Prince Harry.
Harrison starts playing with my hair. “Today started out as the worst day,” he says softly, tucking my hair behind my ear, “and turned out to the best night I’ve ever had. All because of you.”
Tears fill my eyes as I see the tender way he’s looking at me. I love the way he’s speaking to me and touching me right now. I’m so falling in love with him, every single part of him.
“You make me feel beautiful, Harrison,” I say quietly. “I’ve never felt desired like this before.”
“I want to be the man who
always makes you feel that way,” Harrison says.
“I wish we could just stay here tomorrow,” I say truthfully. “Just us. Here. Not leaving this suite.”
“Me too, but reality awaits us,” Harrison says, still playing with my hair. “I have to make a media statement tomorrow.”
“And I told everyone I would call them back tomorrow,” I say. “My phone blew up today with questions about you. My family is kind of stunned. They didn’t even know I liked anybody, and then they see me with you on TV . . .” My voice trails off, as it sounds absolutely insane to say aloud. That I, Kylie Reed, am with professional Hockey God Harrison Flynn.
Harrison shifts me over so I’m on top of him. He gently takes my hair in his hands and pushes it back to the nape of my neck.
“So are you going to tell your parents that you picked me up in a bar?” He grins.
I burst out laughing. “I did not pick you up in a bahr,” I say mimicking his Boston accent.
“Oh, so now you’re mimicking my accent? That’s a punishable offense.” Harrison quickly rolls me over on my back and moves on top of me.
His mouth closes over mine, and I melt into him. Desire is right back at the surface now, and I want him again.
“So sorry,” I whisper against his lips.
“Forgiven,” he whispers back before deepening the kiss.
Harrison then breaks the kiss, and I see the want in his eyes. “Dinner. I want to order dinner now, and then I want to make love to you again. I’m hungry for both things tonight.”
I smile flirtatiously at him. “I like your style, Mr. Flynn.” He laughs, and I move over so he can sit up. Harrison grabs the room service menu.
“Now, what to order?” Harrison says aloud.
I pull the glorious, high-thread count sheets around me and glance over at the menu. “I want a bison burger. With cheddar cheese. And sweet potato chipotle fries.” I grin at him. “I’ve worked up an appetite this evening.”
Harrison cocks an eyebrow. “Have you now?”
We both laugh, and I just love the sound—of us, being silly, laughing together in bed. It feels so complete.
“Okay. Normally I stick to my training menu through the week, but I’m feeling rather hungry myself. I’ll get the same thing. To drink, Gorgeous?”
My heart flutters every time he calls me Gorgeous.
“A glass of Cabernet would be nice,” I say.
“And a beer for me,” Harrison says, reaching for the phone on the end table. He places the order and then hangs up. He reaches for my hand and entwines my fingers with his.
“I still can’t believe this day ended here,” Harrison says. “That I’m here with you right now, in bed with you.”
I squeeze his hand. “When I was trying to get to you today—” I pause for a second, as the horror of that moment comes back to me, “I prayed over and over to God that he would spare you. That I would do anything if he just kept you safe.”
I watch as Harrison takes in my words. “Bargaining.”
“What?”
“You were bargaining. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross described that in her Five Stages of Grief,” Harrison explains. “It’s in her book. On Death and Dying. But basically when people are in the process of dying, in the third stage, they negotiate to buy more time. What I’m trying to say is that’s what you were doing.”
I stare at him, blown away—once again—by his intelligence. “How did you end up with so many gifts?”
Harrison laughs. “What? What gifts?”
“You’re so smart,” I say. “You don’t even realize it, but you’re very intelligent. You know so much about psychology and—”
“Anybody can do that,” Harrison interrupts. “It’s just reading.”
I shake my head. “That’s not true. You’re not giving yourself enough credit. You understand people. I’ve never met anyone who instinctively knows how to read people like you do. You really should be a therapist, Harrison. I mean that.”
“You’re the only person who sees that. When people list my talents, they start with hockey. Always. Never my intelligence.”
I put my hand to his face and stroke it. “You’re more than a hockey player. You have many gifts. Hockey is just one of them. You’re brilliant when it comes to understanding the human mind.”
“Thank you,” he says softly, bringing my hand to his lips and kissing it gently.
“And you understand home renovation and have a vision for that,” I say, continuing. “So that’s another gift. Then you do woodworking and—”
Suddenly Harrison puts his fingertips against my lips. “You’re my biggest gift,” he whispers.
I swallow hard. “You’re mine, too.”
I lean forward and kiss my prince.
Harrison breaks the kiss. “Thank you for purposefully falling into my lap at the Ritz, Kylie Reed.”
“I didn’t fall into your lap on purpose!” I cry, laughing.
“You did,” Harrison declares, grinning at me.
“Did not!”
Harrison bursts out laughing. “I’m kidding you. I know you didn’t.”
“How so?” I ask, curious.
“Your eyes,” Harrison says, nuzzling his nose against mine. “You had no clue who I was. I could see that instantly in your expression. And those espresso-colored eyes showed nothing but mortification when you saw my shirt was drenched.”
I laugh. “All true.”
“The best accident I was ever involved in,” Harrison says.
“Me, too,” I say.
As we kiss again, I know with all my heart that wasn’t an accident.
It was fate.
And as I kiss Harrison, fate is telling me my destiny is to be with this man.
For the rest of my life if he will let me.
Chapter 17
The Pop Quiz Question: You are in the early stages of your new relationship, but something troubles you. Do you:
A) Bring it up with him and confront it head on?
B) Sit on it for a bit? If it is really troublesome, and I decide I’m all in for this relationship developing, I’ll discuss it at a later date.
C) I hate burdening him with my problems this early. They really aren’t a big deal in the grand scheme of things . . .
“Jesus, Kylie,” Brandon says, “I go on my honeymoon, return yesterday, and all hell is breaking loose about my little sister dating Harrison Flynn? When did this happen? Why didn’t you say anything about it?”
I sigh as I sit in my car. I’m in the parking lot, starting the round of “Yes, I’m really with Harrison Flynn” phone calls before I go into the boutique. I’ve just gotten off the phone with my stunned mother. Now I’m dealing with my brother.
And I would rather be back at the hotel with Harrison. Just twenty minutes ago I was in Harrison’s penthouse suite, forcing myself to leave him when all I wanted to do was stay in his arms and ignore the rest of the world. Especially after what we shared last night—
“Kylie? Hello?”
“It’s recent,” I admit, refocusing on the call and reluctantly leaving my daydream. “Brandon, we didn’t want to tell anybody. We’re building something here and—”
“Kylie, you realize he is a professional hockey player, right?” Brandon interrupts.
Suddenly I feel my defenses shoot up by that comment. “What’s that supposed to mean, B?”
“Come on, K. Harrison Flynn is one of Dallas’ most eligible bachelors. Don’t you think there is a reason why he isn’t married?”
“Yes. Because he hasn’t found the right girl,” I say truthfully.
“Or he enjoys playing the field. Like most athletes do, even after they are married, Kylie. How many serious divorce cases do you think my fir
m has handled with professional athletes? A lot. Do you know why? Because the temptation is too much. They all cheat. All of them.”
I feel my face burn hot in anger. “That’s not Harrison, Brandon. That is not the kind of man he is.”
“How would you know?” Brandon asks. “You’ve known him for what, a week?”
“That doesn’t matter. He’s different,” I say firmly.
“Kylie, I’m saying this because I don’t want you to get hurt. He’s normally linked with famous women. Groupies follow him. Harrison can have it anywhere, anytime. This could be nothing more than a passing fling for a guy like him. That’s not who you are, Kylie. And I saw your picture online. You weren’t looking at him in a casual way.”
Fury shoots through me. “Brandon, do you think I’m a little girl? Well, I’m not. I know Harrison. He’s nothing like what you just described, nothing at all.”
I open the car door and step out. I grab my cross-body bag and sling it over my chest, pick up my tote, and close the door.
“Kylie, you know I just want what’s best for you,” Brandon says, his tone softening. “And a professional hockey player who is known for chasing models is not what’s best for you.”
“Oh, so he couldn’t possibly have a serious interest in me because I’m not a model? Just the boring, plain girl next door?”
“I didn’t say that.”
I’m about to respond but when I turn around, a handful of photographers begin flashing cameras in my face.
“That’s her!”
“Kylie, look this way.”
“Kylie, are you and Harrison serious?”
