Page 72 of True North

He tilts his head before closing his eyes ever so briefly. A groan leaves with his next breath.

Deciding I have waited long enough for this man, I pull the shirt from my body and toss it at his feet. I want him.

At least, IthinkI’m ready for this.

His gaze snaps to mine.

The fire in his eyes could turn even the hardest element to ash. I let my hands wander to the clasp on my jeans, flipping it open.

He takes a step forward, boots scuffing over the floor as it creaks. His attention flits from the cake to me. A heartbeat passes, and his rough grip surrounds my face, his body pressed between my legs.

He claims what’s his.

It’s all I can do to tame my desperate heart, to slow my rapid pulse. Sliding my hands into his hair, I curl my fingers around his locks, tight. He lowers me to the table, his rock-hard cock grinding into my center. The pressure is bliss against my aching clit.

He pulls back when I’m lying before him. The meal in front of the man.

My hands fall from his hair to my sides, breaths heaving as I lay waiting.

“We doin’ this here, darlin’?” Harry rasps.

“Anywhere, I don’t care.”

His jaw feathers before he tugs at the jeans hugging my hips, darkened blue eyes staring down at me.

I want to see him.

Touch every toned ridge. Every hard line.

I snap up, sitting on the end of the hard surface. I draw my knees up, pressing the soles of my feet to the edge. Letting my legs fall open, I lean forward and pluck the buttons open on his old work shirt. He stands, stoic, rigid. His gaze never leaves my face as I bare him, first the shirt—he toes off his boots—then the jeans and boxers.

I hold my breath as I trace a finger over his jaw, down his neck, and over his bounding pulse point. Lower, I send my hand over his toned pecs, before tracking a digit over his corded bicep and forearm. God, I love these.

Harry’s breaths turn erratic when I brush my hand lower, finding his rock-hard length. It’s warm, velvety, and makes my center coil into itself with the lightest touch.

A low groan splits his lips as I rub a thumb over his tip.

That sound...

I release him and lie back.

It takes him a beat to realize I’m once again spread before him. The ache in my center is so intense. Implosion imminent. Harry’s dark stare flicks back to the cake.

I can’t wrangle the burning breaths in my lungs as something sinister flashes through his eyes.

“Having trouble choosing which to eat?” I ask.

Harry leans over the table, bracing above me on corded arms. His teeth nip my nipple before scattering rough kisses up my neck and claiming my mouth.

I open for him, but he breaks away.

“Who said I had to choose, darlin’?”

I glance at the cake. When I turn back, his hands are sliding under my back. The bra hits the floor. The panties follow.

“What are you up to, Harrison Rawlins?” My words are threadbare.

“Close your eyes, Lou.”

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