Bewitched (16 page)

“Think what you like. I'm still going to do it.” She went
down the hall to her bedroom, aware of Harry right behind her, and of his shock to her decorating scheme. He'd been upstairs many times, but never in her bedroom.

He stood there with his mouth open, his face blank. “Good God. You have ruffles.”

Belligerent, she said, “Yeah, so? It's my room and I can decorate it any way I want.” She pulled out a clean pair of newer jeans and a white button-down oxford-cloth shirt. It was the closest thing she had to “dressier.”

Harry touched the fluffy white quilt on her bed. “I like it, so don't sound so defensive. It's just that I pictured you with…”

“Barbed wire? A bare mattress?” She snorted. “The quilt is warm and the bed skirt hides all the stuff I stick under my bed.”

Harry bent and looked. “There's nothing under your bed.”

“Go to hell, Harry.”

He laughed, but when she pulled off her T-shirt to change, his humor died a quick death. Sounding strangled, he asked, “What are you doing?”

“Changing. I can't very well go unnoticed if I wear what they've already seen.”

“Charlie.” With his gaze glued to her upper body, bare except for her bra, he clasped her shoulders. “Don't do this to yourself.”

She tried to shrug him off, but his large hands held firm. “I have to hurry.”

“You're not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

Turmoil exploded inside her, making her hands shake and her stomach pitch. In a voice that was less than steady, she growled, “Don't start with me now, Harry. I
have
to go.”

“Shh.” Despite her resistance he pulled her close and his big hot hands smoothed up and down her naked spine. “I
know, babe, I really do. This is so damn hard. But you need to indulge in a little trust.”

“Trust a man I barely know?”

He kissed her ear, still making those “shushing” sounds. “You know me, and I've told you the man is safe. And you should certainly trust your sister. What responsibilities did you have at eighteen?”

The trembling became worse and she leaned into Harry, for the moment letting herself relax, letting his heat seep into her. “None that I want Jill to have.”

“You've done an incredible job with her, Charlie. She's an intelligent young lady and an excellent judge of character. She has enough sense to call you if anything should go wrong.”

She bit her lip, trying to sort out her thoughts. “Why should I trust you when you don't trust me?”

His hands stilled.

“Something's going on with Carlyle. I can feel it.”

A look of alarm passed over his features and his frown turned fierce. “That has nothing to do with you.”

Flabbergasted, she leaned back to look at him. “And my personal life has nothing to do with
you,
but I noticed that hasn't slowed you down any!”

Her new posture pushed her pelvis closer to his, while baring her upper body. His gaze again lowered to her breasts, and he remained silent.

Tension radiated off him and she shifted. “What? No answer to that?”

His hand coasted down her spine to her backside, cuddling and stroking. In a near rasp, he said, “We're standing in a bedroom, you're taunting me with these luscious little breasts of yours, and I'm so aroused I can barely think. Did you really expect me to indulge in conversation?”

Her own arousal hit like a tidal wave, stealing her breath and filling her with undulating heat. All her confusion, all her nervousness, magically transformed into sexual awareness.
She could barely get a whisper past her constricted throat. “Harry?”

Shaking his head with a denial she didn't understand, he closed his eyes. “I can't do this anymore.”

The heat of his hard chest beckoned her, and she braced her palms flat there. “Do what?”

Startling her with his suddenness, he lifted her, walked the two steps to the bed, then dropped with her to the mattress. He caught her hands and lifted them over her head, then groaned as her breasts pressed to his chest.

The weight of his body both appeased and intensified the ache, making her squirm. “I love how you feel, Harry. So hard and hot and strong.”

The low gasping of his breath tickled her ear. “I'm glad you think so, because I'm in no hurry to move.”

“I don't want you to move. Let my hands go.”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no'?” When he didn't answer, she tried to pull away.

“Not this time, honey. This time we finish it.
My way.
”

Charlie felt both excited and slightly alarmed by his uncompromising tone, uncertain how she should react. Then she realized she really had no choice. Harry wasn't letting go, and that meant she'd have to accept whatever he had planned.

Her eyes narrowed sensually. She'd wallow in every second of his dominance.

 

R
AISING HIMSELF
slightly, Harry smiled and transferred both her hands into one of his own, then cupped her jaw. “You're just filled with demands, aren't you?”

“I wasn't…”

“Hmm. Yes, you were. It's part and parcel of who you are. But I like it. Most of the time. Right now, I like you soft and submissive beneath me.” He kissed her gently, pulling
back when she tried to deepen the kiss. “Do you like it too, honey?”

“Yes.”

That soft whisper shook his resolve. Harry closed his mouth over hers, felt her lips part and immediately stroked his tongue inside. Her slender thighs tightened restlessly, her body shifting in subtle, erotic moves. His free hand slid down her side, then to her soft breast. Damn she felt good. Her nipple was already puckered, pressing against her thin cotton bra, and with a low curse, he caught the cup with his fingertips and pulled it down until her firm breast came free.

Harry tore his mouth away from hers to look at her. He leaned back and to the side, keeping her hands firmly clasped, watching in heated appreciation as she strained toward him.

Her breast was so white, the nipple a soft pale pink, and he wanted her. He leaned down with no forewarning and drew her into his mouth.

She gave a stifled scream.

“Hush. Someone downstairs might hear you.”

“Harry…it's too much.”

“Nonsense,” he said, taunting her with his assurance. “You'll like this. Just be still.”

She didn't even try. As he licked and gently sucked, she struggled against him, moaning, twisting. She kept trying to pull her hands free, but he didn't think she was even aware of it. She didn't want to be free, it was just in Charlie's nature to fight any type of restriction. He felt provoked by her reactions, and grew all the more determined to control things.

From the day he'd met her, she'd made him crazy with her take charge ways, even while his admiration for her courage grew. Little by little she'd seduced him, not just sexually, but emotionally as well. He wanted her, and he was tired of denying himself. Unlike his ex-wife, who tried to manipulate with tears, Charlie fought fair, with upfront demands and honest compromises. He enjoyed his battles with her, rather than
feeling guilty over them. She excited him on every level, and he couldn't resist any longer.

Later, he'd work through the problems. But now, in this precise moment, all he cared about was making her his own.

He loved the taste of her, her hot reactions, and he wanted more. Coming up to his knees, straddling her hips so she couldn't scoot away, he tugged the bra completely off. Charlie froze for an instant as the heat of embarrassment colored her face and throat. “You're looking at me.”

“Yes.” With one finger he touched her exposed nipples. “You're wet from my mouth, tight and sweet.”

Her eyes closed again and she made soft sounds of desire. Her breasts were plump, offered up by the way she kept straining toward him. The mere sight of her aroused him as much as an hour of foreplay. “You're right, sweetheart. These are very special.”

“You're embarrassing me, Harry.”

His mouth tipped in a small smile. She didn't sound embarrassed. She sounded excited. Her breasts shimmered with each breath, her diaphragm expanding. Her abdomen was silky smooth, narrow. The waistband of her jeans curled out away from her skin and he deftly flicked the snap free. He could hear her rasping, anxious breaths as he slowly tugged down the zipper. Her belly was taut, her hips staining upward. He dipped one fingertip in her navel, then followed the line of her zipper downward, gradually parting the material until he came to the elastic waistband of her bikini panties. Because he'd already seen her bra, he wasn't surprised that these were also white cotton.

“You have very conservative taste in underclothes,” he murmured.

His finger continued to tickle up and down just inside her zipper and her voice shook when she replied. “No one sees them but me.”

Her words filled him with satisfaction, and the possessive
urges no longer alarmed him. “I think this one is jealous,” he said of the breast he hadn't yet tasted.

“Harry…”

Her tone was a whimper in anticipation of what she knew would come. He wanted her to understand that she couldn't always control him, that some things were better left in his hands, especially the sensual things.

With that in mind, he bent and carefully kissed her breast, avoiding the erect, puckered nipple and ignoring her soft cries. Relentlessly he teased, always staying just out of reach no matter how she turned or tried to coax him to take her into his mouth. She cursed him softly, then moaned, her thick lashes drifting down over her eyes, her body going utterly lax, with no fight left at all.

Harry tried to stifle the overwhelming feeling of triumph, but knowing he'd won with this one particular woman—and that she'd enjoyed letting him win—filled him with primitive instincts. He loosened his hold and whispered close to her ear, “Don't move, sweetheart.”

“Harry…
please.
”

His heart tripped. He'd never thought to hear that word from her mouth. She'd not only given over to him, she trusted him enough to show her full need. Releasing her hands and sitting up, Harry pulled off her boots and socks, then hooked his fingers in the waistband of her jeans and tugged them down to her knees. She helped him by kicking them off the rest of the way.

Charlie watched him through dazed eyes. Her soft mouth was slightly open, her hands resting above her head, the palms up and vulnerable. He shook he wanted her so badly.

Coming down on his elbow beside her, he kissed her hungrily and she groaned in relief. Impatient, he stroked his hand down her belly and below, cupping his fingers over her mound, feeling the heat of her, the dampness of the cotton panties.
He could hear the race of his blood in his ears, and the sexy little sounds Charlie made.

She was already so close, and he'd barely begun. He leaned away from her and saw her hands were now fisted tightly, her chest heaving, her pale thighs clenched. He pushed his hand inside her panties and with his middle finger pressed and stroked. “You're so wet, honey. Do you like that?”

“Yes.”

She didn't hesitate in answering, though her reply was an almost incoherent hiss. He'd always loved watching a woman climax, but seeing Charlie, her head pressed back, her neck muscles straining, her pretty breasts heaving—it was more than he'd ever expected. More than he likely deserved. Very slowly, he worked one finger inside her. Though she was silky wet and very excited, she clenched his finger tightly. He groaned, imagining how she'd feel squeezing his erection. His heart pounded.

“Ah, Harry, I…”

“Does that hurt?” he whispered. His free arm was beside her head and he smoothed her silky dark hair away from her face.

She shook her head, then said, “A little. But don't stop.”

“No, I won't stop.” It pained him to smile, he was so aroused, but he felt full to bursting with love and contentment. He kissed her cheek, her nose, then used his thumb to find her small clitoris. He touched it lightly and she jerked, her reaction very telling.

He found a rhythm, using her own wetness to slick the way, to make the friction sweeter. He could tell she held her breath, her entire body tensed in expectation, and when she suddenly lurched and cried out he kissed her, swallowing the sound, taking it into himself. She forgot his instructions and wrapped her arms tightly around him, gripping him as if needing an anchor, as if she needed him as close as possible. Harry continued to kiss her, his tongue stroking in her
mouth just as his finger stroked inside her. Her climax was long and full and she held him, her thighs rigid, her inner muscles trembling. She was so explosive, so
real,
he nearly lost control.

Making love to her, actually being inside her, might well kill him. But he was more than willing to take the risk.

As she quieted, he tenderly kissed her trembling lips. “You okay?”

She mumbled something he couldn't hear and burrowed a little closer.

“Should I take that as a yes?” He wanted to tease, but his voice shook and he knew he wouldn't last a minute longer.

For an answer, she bit him. He jumped, then rubbed his chest, though the small nip of her teeth hadn't really hurt. “Your vicious tendencies never cease to amaze me.”

She gave him a scorching look and smiled. “My vicious tendencies will explode if you don't get on with it.”

“Impatient wench.” But he stood beside the bed and began unbuttoning his shirt. Charlie watched, lying on her back at her leisure, unashamed of her nudity or the sensual pose she presented.

Impossible as it seemed, her gaze grew even warmer and she breathed more deeply as he tossed his shirt aside and unbuttoned his slacks. He removed his wallet and pulled a condom from it, tossing it onto the nightstand beside her bed. She smiled.