Page 53 of Dublin Beast

“Harper, you’re safe.” I step closer. No response. Her body jerks again, a small whimper escaping her lips.

I lift one knee to the mattress, reaching out, intending to shake her shoulder and pull her free from whatever darkness has its claws in her.

The second my fingers graze her arm, she moves.

Her hand snaps out, fingers clamping around my wrist with surprising strength. Before I can react, her leg swings up and around me, catching me off guard and flipping my entire goddamn body.

The next thing I know, I’m flat on my back with Harper straddling me, her thighs locked around my hips, her breath coming in short, sharp pants.

I blink up at her, half-shocked, half-impressed, and fully aroused.

Well, this is new.

Her fist winds back, her knuckles aiming straight for my face. Fast reflexes. Good form. This girl’s got instincts—ones I didn’t expect to still be this sharp after everything she’s been through.

I catch her fist in my palm, gripping it tight before she can land the hit.

The jolt seems to wake her.

Her gaze snaps clearer, her body still tense as her mind catches up with the moment. I feel it—the second reality crashes back into her.

Her breath hitches, her muscles go slack, and her face goes pale.

“Ohmygod,” she breathes, her voice hoarse. Her wild eyes dart around the room before they land on me, wide with confusion. “What…?”

“You were having a nightmare.” My voice is rough from sleep and husky for another reason altogether.

A reason far more dangerous.

I loosen my grip on her fist as color floods her cheeks, realization settling in as she blinks down at me. Her breath is still shallow, her skin warm, her thighs locked around my waist.

That’s when it hits me—she’s not wearing any pants.

A low, miserable groan rumbles in my chest as I become acutely aware of the damp heat pressing against my stomach.

Fucking hell.

“You, uh, should probably let me go before we have another one of those embarrassing moments.” My voice comes out strained, my self-control unreliable around her.

She still looks half-asleep, confused, her body slow to react.

“You’re wet, Harper,” I mutter, trying like hell not to focus on the way her body feels pressed against mine. “And I’m trying to be a gentleman here, especially after what you’ve been through.”

Her hazel eyes sharpen, clearing as her gaze locks onto me with something dangerous flickering behind them. “What if I don’t want you to be a gentleman?”

My stomach tightens.

Her voice is low, a hunger in her tone that should be off-limits after the past couple of days she’s had.

“What if I want to get rid of the terror beating in my chest?” she whispers, shifting slightly. “What if I want to replace the feeling of their unwanted hands with something welcome?”

Fuck me, don’t say that.

“What if I want to celebrate being alive by living in the moment?”

I swallow hard, my restraint damn near obliterated.

“Harper…” I warn, gripping her hips to still her before I do something neither of us will come back from.

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