She wrapped her arms around him and he lifted her onto the counter. She could feel his arousal pressing into her, and her body instantly readied for him. It had been years since she had been with a man. And even then, it had been her boyfriend of six months, and he had barely gotten her body started. This was more than she had ever felt for anyone.
She groaned and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her head tilted back as he buried his face in her neck. His breathing was rough and matched hers in frequency. What just happened?
When he pulled away, she slowly opened her eyes to find she was dizzy. Her vision refocused and she stared into his eyes.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“For what?” she asked, dumbfounded, barely finding the words to speak at all.
“For that.”
“Are you, sorry?” she wondered. “Because I’m not.”
He grinned slightly and started to leave the room as she slid back to the floor. “I’m not, either,” he said, and walked out, leaving her aching for more.
* * *
HOLY SHIT, THAT was amazing, Harley thought to himself as he pulled a shirt on. He had very nearly lost the nerve to do what he had wanted to do since the moment he saw her.
She had tasted wonderful. Like the red wine she had been drinking. He would have taken her right there in the kitchen had he not come to his senses.
Her scent surrounded him, and he wondered how he was ever going to drag her back into the danger he knew they were going to have to face with how he felt about her.
He went to the top shelf of the closet and pulled a box down. He opened it and pulled out a notebook and pen and sat on the edge of the bed to start going over their notes again. Now more than ever, he wanted it all to be over with so he could see whether there was anything between he and Norah. Anything more than knowing you might not survive to see tomorrow.
* * *
THE REST OF the night was quiet. Harley had come out to find Norah curled up on the couch. He hadn’t realized that he had been in the bedroom for over an hour writing things down. He sat on the floor next to the couch, telling himself it was so he could be there if she needed him, but he knew it was also for himself. When he was close to her, he didn’t feel so alone in the world.
He was trying to piece everything together. To figure out who might possibly be running things now that Matthews was out of the way. The only person he thought could be behind all of it, including the assassination, was Tom. But then how long had Tom been working with Matthews?
He pinched the bridge of his nose. He was getting a headache, so in order to give himself a break, he stood and grabbed a bottle of water. He set his notes on the counter and stared at the pile as if it might learn to talk and tell him everything he was missing.
He looked over at the clock on the microwave. Three a.m. He had been at this for over five hours. Harley glanced over to where Norah slept peacefully on the couch. Her soft features were relaxed, as if she were any other woman and this was any other night.
He could still taste her on his tongue, and the aftertaste had him desperately wanting more. The kiss had done nothing to curb his appetite for her. If anything, it had fueled the fire he felt steadily building inside.
He grabbed his notes and walked over to brush a strand of hair out of her face. She moved slightly at his touch, and smiled.
She hadn’t asked him to sleep next to her again, but he was taking it as an open invitation and lifted her into his arms to carry her into the bedroom.
He had given in to his lust for her, and he knew that before long, he was going to have much more than a taste.
9
Norah woke and rolled over to see Harley next to her. She smiled. When he hadn’t come out of the bedroom, she had assumed he was avoiding her and decided it was probably best for her to just wait for him to come to her.
She could still imagine the way his mouth had felt on hers, hard and passionate. Damn, it had felt so good to be kissed as if she were the only woman in the world.
She could have gone in the bedroom, could have faced him and pushed for more. She probably should have, as she was going to be kicking herself if she never got another opportunity. The fear of being turned away was what kept her safely on the couch. She wasn’t sure she could have stood it if Harley refused her. If he made excuses as to why he wanted to take things slow.
The kissing had been hot and heavy with Clayton at first as well, but it hadn’t been long before the fire fizzed out on his end. She hadn’t realized it had on her end as well until last night. Still, she had never felt the way she did as when Harley’s mouth had been on hers.
She studied him. His hair was a tousled mess, and she reached out to touch it. It was softer than she had imagined. She wondered what it would feel like to bury her fingers in it while he did the things to her that she craved so badly.
The feelings she had for Harley weren’t bothering her anymore. He was a kind, handsome man who treated her gently. It was the lack of sadness she felt at Clayton’s death that had her feeling guilty. She didn’t know why she felt guilt; he surely wouldn’t have given a damn had it been her who had caught those bullets. He had tried to make that happen, so why should she feel bad that she survived?
She had respected him for what he had done for the charities she cared so much for, and now she was being told that all of that had been a lie. That in fact he had been a crooked thief and a murderer. She hoped all of those families could find peace now that he was dead. Hoped that she herself could.
* * *
She was stroking his hair when he woke up. He had felt it the moment she touched him, afraid to move because it felt so damn good to have her hand on him. He had dreamt of her soft curves and full lips all night, and he found himself aching for her now. If he reached for her, would she accept him?
He heard her sniffle, and it pulled him from his thoughts. Tears were streaming down her face, and his mind went on alert.
“What is it, Norah?” He sat abruptly and reached for her.
“All those people,” she cried. “Those poor people that he hurt, and I helped him.”
“Norah, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know what he was doing.”
“I sent people to him, Harley. People that I had met in the shelters or on the street who were having problems. How many of them are dead now or have lost their families because of me?”
“Norah, you didn’t know,” he repeated, and pulled her closer to him.
“How many, Harley?”
“How many what?” He knew what she wanted to know, he just didn’t want to tell her.
“Don’t play stupid with me. You know what I’m asking. How many lives did he take?”
He knew his answer would cause her pain. Knew that she would blame herself for each of those lives, even though the weight of it wasn’t hers to bear. He didn’t want to tell her, but he also couldn’t lie to her. Never to her.