Siren

Chapter Nineteen

IT DOESN'T TAKE HARRY LONG TO GET HIS WITS IN ORDER. Within seconds he has shaken off his initial shock and he is on his feet. His large hands go to my bare waist and his eyes roam up and down my body as if he has no idea where he wants to touch first. My confidence soars at the way he looks at me, my internal temperature raising from his scorching gaze. Where his hands touch my skin tingles and heats, his hands leaving a trail up and down my sides.

"I..." Harry starts to say something but closes his mouth, as if at a loss for words. I stare at him with a smile I hope is arrogant enough for what I just did. I don't want shy Noah making her appearance right now, for all Harry knows, I strip out of my clothing in this sexy fashion each and every night before bed.

Suddenly his grip tightens around my hips and my feet are lifted off of the floor. Instinctively, my arms wrap around his neck and my legs wrap themselves around his pelvis, holding on for dear life as he moves about the flat. His mouth finds mine and we move together, a fiery passion ready to drive each of us wild.

His tongue moves against mine expertly, slipping past my lips as I eagerly open myself to him. My fingers are gripping onto his long curly hair and when I pull slightly, a moan escapes from his lips and I can feel the effects of that simple noise between my legs.

He kicks out as we reach his bedroom and the door swings open; he never once looses contact with my mouth. I simply can't get enough. It's been a long time since kissing was enough but I don't ever want to stop kissing him.

He throws me onto the bed and takes off his own shirt in a matter of seconds. His tan and inked abs are simply mouth watering and I want to kiss each and every one of his seemingly random tattoos. I don't even have time to wonder at what each black marking means to him because then my eyes are diverted even further south as he unbuttons his jeans. I don't know that any man has ever, or will ever, look as good in a pair of tight black boxer breifs than the man standing in front of me. His skin glistens as he runs a hand through his hair before climbing up his bed so that he is hovering over me.

"Did you have that little show planned?" he asks. His voice is so different, lower and darker than anything I've ever heard. Each word that escapes from those perfectly sculpted lips reverberates through my body.

"Not exactly," I manage to form a coherent sentence. My ass is grinding against the mattress; I am out of control and unable to stay still as his fingers trail from my jaw, between my breasts and down the center of my stomach. I've never ran more than a 5k but I imagine this is how marathon runners must feel when they finish. I don't know if I'll ever be able to catch my breath again.

"What do you want, Noah?" He asks, his voice barely a whisper. I want to scream. What the hell does he mean, What do you want?

YOU DAMNIT!

I don't know how much more obvious I can make it. Last night I made it clear what I wanted from him and I didn't get what I wanted. Now, I'm going to get what I want if I have to put it in myself.

"Noah?" he says again but now his lips are on my collar bone. His tongue sweeping over my skin ever so gently to ease the sting of his teeth grazing against my skin. Goosebumps trail in his wake and my hands are on his hips.

His mouth trails down, following the path of his fingers seconds ago. I can barely think clearly. I am a bundle of sensation because of him, a bundle of sexual frustration ready to explode at any second.

He kisses the base of my stomach, just above the lace of my panties. I can't take it anymore.

"Damnit, Harry! Take my pants off!" I command.

"Yes ma'am," he chuckles, the dimple in his right cheek as he goes right to the hem of my jeans like an excited little boy.