Page 35 of Accidental Groom
“Youdid.” He pulls back again, glaring down the ridge of his nose at me, his fingers flexing against my wrist. “You know damn well that I’m attracted to you. Too much for my own good, it seems.”
Moving my tongue feels like lifting a lead weight. “Then stop spouting bullshit about how I’mhis.”
He walks me backward, slowly, one step at a time, until my back hits the hard line of a tree. He tips my head back enough to rest against the bark, his gaze boring into me, dark green irises nearly entirely swallowed by his dilated pupils.
“He didn’t show up,” I rasp. I pull my wrist from his grasp, his fingers releasing the second I actually try, and grip the front of his shirt instead, my nails dragging across his stomach. “You did. Even if he comes back, even if you and my father force me to marry him instead, I’m not sleeping with him. I’m not being with him. Stop beating yourself up over a fallout thatwon’t happen.”
“Elena,” he warns again, but there’s something wavering in his voice. His resistance is paper-thin — I can hear it in the way his breath catches as I push my hand back down, pulling his shirt with me before it snaps back into place, my fingers dragging along the edge of his boxers.
I don’t give him time to stop me.
But I don’t push my luck either.
I wrap my hand around him over the cotton barrier, and the breath punches from my lungs.Christ. Christ, Christ, Christ, he’s huge?—
His forehead drops to mine with a groan unlike anything I’ve ever heard from him.He’s so close to breaking.“This is a horrible idea,” he rasps, but his mouth stays open, another groan slipping out as I push my hand down. He’s rock hard,long, and god, I just want tosee.
“Please,” I whisper, holding his gaze while my thumb drags across the damp cotton at the tip of his cock.
That does it.
His mouth meets mine again with a ragged exhale, hurried and hungry, and I accept every bit of it. The warmth of his hand leaves my face, and before I can even work out where they’ve gone, fingers curl in the waistband of my leggings and underwear, pulling, no,tuggingthem down to my knees. Cool air kisses my bare skin, but his palm is scorching as it skates up the back of my thigh. Fingertips and nails dig into the flesh of my rear, forcing me to gasp, and he takes that as his chance to devour my mouth entirely.
His fingers brush my clit, just once, justbarely, and my entire body ignites. My hand pushes against his boxers, forcing them down, impatience clawing at me to set him free. The moment I manage it, my fingers wrap back around him, my mouth tearing from his just to look, just tosee?—
Dear fucking god.
The noise that slips from me sounds like one from a wounded animal.
“Holy shit,” I croak. My thumb and middle finger barely, if at all, touch. I don’t miss the way his lips tip up ever so slightly at the corner.
“You’re sure?” he asks, his fingers pushing through my slit to my entrance,hesitating.
I arch into his touch. “Yes.”
My hand works him slowly as his digits slip inside of me, two at once, curling in that devastating way he’d done before. My knees buckle, and he takes my weight, pinning me harder against the tree as his mouth finds my neck, hot breath and teeth scraping my skin.
“You’re soaked,” he murmurs. His thumb circles my clit, just enough pressure to make my head spin. “How long have you been thinking about this?”
My cheeks flame. “Haven’t—fuck—haven’t stopped. Since the wedding.”
A dark chuckle rumbles through him as he scissors his fingers, stretching me, and I bite my lip to keep some of my sounds at bay. His thumb moves in maddening strokes, and I try to chase the friction with my hips.
“Harry—”
“Soimpatient,” he teases, but there’s a strain in his voice. His wrist twists, just enough that he can easily hit that spot inside of me with ridiculous accuracy, and there’s no use trying to hide the moans clawing up my throat. They fall out whether I wantthem to or not. “Come for me first if you want me to fuck you properly.”
The words send a jolt through me, already working me toward the edge. The rough bark bites into my shoulders through the thin fabric of my shirt, but I barely notice, not when he’s doingthat, not when I can barely breathe with him on me like this.
Every inhale feels like a goddamn challenge.
He teases me, drawing it out, purposely giving me just shy of enough. My thighs tremble around his hand, my fingers losing the barely-there rhythm I had with my strokes, and the bastardchucklesagainst my neck when my hand goes slack around him.
“Struggling to concentrate, darling?” he murmurs, kissing up the line of my throat until his teeth graze my chin. His eyes lock on mine, heavy lidded, pupils blown, watching me with dark satisfaction written all over his face.
“Maybe a—ah—bit,” I whimper.
“Tell me,” he says, nostrils flaring. “Tell me how badly you want me.”
