Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

S nuggled up on the chair in her bedroom, Mildred by her side, Phee sipped at the mug of hot chocolate her maid, Flora, had brought her after readying her for the night. The gown she had worn to the Waverly ball was finally off her body and put away for another night in the future. Her hair was brushed and plaited, the loose braid falling over one shoulder which had become a toy for Mildred for a good thirty minutes before she finally gave up the game in pursuit of sleep. Yet Phee could not seem to find the want to join her in slumber.

Her mind kept replaying Harrison, shielding her from the crush of bodies at the ball. Dancing with her, soothing her. It was the first time she had ever enjoyed a ball, ever thought that perhaps she had been wrong and there was nothing to worry over. It was nonsense of course, balls were horrendous affairs, but by Harrison’s side they were manageable.

Setting the mug aside on the low table beside her, Phee adjusted the blanket eliciting a frustrated mew from the kitten. Rubbing the top of the fluffy head beside her hip, Phee watched as the small dear slipped back into sleep, her soft snores like a soothing melody, and she wished she could curl up right next to her and sleep. But her body would not let her. Could not. For every time she closed her eyes, she could feel Harrison’s strong hands guiding her across the dance floor. Feel the press of his lips against her forehead as their dance ended. The comforting scent of citrus that emanated from him in the stifling room as he curled his body around hers, preventing her from even a moment of discomfort. He had listened. He had understood.

And when she had looked at him an hour later, her body already beginning to fade at the onslaught of sounds and smells, he had made their excuses, taken her hand, and left, all without needing a single word from her.

It was as if he were the other part of her, able to sense her moods. Her needs. And where his protective bent should have left her feeling smothered or frustrated, instead, it had been comforting. She knew she was strong, knew she was capable, as did he. But with him there, she did not have to be strong and capable all the time. She could simply be Phee.

Blinking at the pop of a log falling in the fire, Phee sighed. This did not feel right, sitting in her room alone while the thing she wanted, the man she wanted, was in his own room for the night, most likely already in bed. Not near her, soothing her to sleep like she did for Mildred, and she only had herself to blame. Her silly brain with its incessant prattling and nattering on about contracts and comfortability, meanwhile her heart cried out with an entirely different message. And though she knew it had made sense not to change the contract, it seemed that she had failed to factor into account the desire that would come from the care he showed.

She longed for him the way Mildred longed for warmth and comfort. She yearned for his caresses the way their silly kitten yearned for their pets the moment they came into her sight. And she wanted him beside her after an overwhelming day, holding her close and soothing her to sleep like she did their rat hunter in training. Even more than that, she wanted to be the one he confided in. The first to see his creations after a day at the potter’s wheel, the one to calm him when his mercurial moods arose. The one to make him smile over breakfast, a feisty Mildred in tow.

Decision made, Phee picked up Mildred and deposited the kitten on her woolen bed, stroking the small white spot on top of her head until the kitten once more fell into slumber. Then, slipping on her robe, Phee went to the door that adjoined their room. With a deep breath, she raised her hand and knocked softly at the wooden portal. Biting her lip, she leaned forward hoping to hear any sign that he was awake, but all she was met with was quiet.

“Come on, Phoebe. Knock once more. Don’t be a ninny,” she whispered to herself, raising her hand once again to knock, but the door swung open, revealing a rumpled Harrison. His white linen shirt was opened at the top revealing a sculpted chest, the tan skin there surprising and intriguing, and Phee could not help but stare at the expanse it showed.

“Phoebe?” he asked. “Is everything all right?”

Phee swallowed, her eyes lifting to meet his, but she could not find the words to respond.

He stepped forward into her room and peeked around her. “It’s not Mildred, is it?”

The mention of the kitten snapped Phee out of her trance and she shook her head. “No, Mildred is fine.”

“Oh,” he said, stepping back and looking at her, his eyes soft from sleep and his usually quaffed hair a bit disheveled. His eyes swept over her, taking her in, but he made no move to touch her even though every modicum of her body wished that he would. But he was not like that. He would respect her wishes, respect her space no matter what, and it only made her want him more.

“I wanted to thank you for tonight,” she said.

He shook his head. “It’s nothing to be thanked for. I wanted you to be comfortable and feel that you were able to enjoy yourself, that was all.”

Phee took a step closer to him, his citrus scent filling her senses. “That’s just it,” she said. “Not everyone would have done what you did tonight. You soothed in circumstances where I would have been met with frustration.”

“Did you have a bit of fun?” he asked.

Phee nodded. “When we danced.”

Harrison smiled. “Then I have no need for thanks. I’m glad you enjoyed dancing with me as much as I did dancing with you.” He paused and looked at her, his jaw clenched as his hand opened and closed at his side, but he made no attempt to touch her.

Phee opened her mouth, fear and want churning inside her as she looked at the rumpled beauty before her. His bed was no doubt warm from his body and covered in his smell. It would take very little for her to tell him she wanted to be by his side tonight, and she knew he would let her in an instant. But the words remained frozen on the tip of her tongue and she could only look at him.

One corner of his mouth rose in a smile and he nodded. “Well then, goodnight, Phoebe,” he said, turning back toward his room and making to shut the door.

It was too late, the moment had passed, but as his frame slowly disappeared behind the door, some secret river of courage spouted up in her, forcing her to take a step forward as she said, “Harrison…”

The door stopped and Phee wasted little time moving around it.

“I—Can I kiss you?” she asked, the question released in a breath.

“Always,” he said, his eyes searching hers as she stepped forward and reached for his hand, her fingers gripping his to hold her steady as she pushed onto her toes and let her mouth touch his.

It was a soft kiss, a mere passing of lips, but it was enough. Enough to push her forward against him and slide her hands up his chest and into his hair. Enough to guide his mouth to hers and take his lips in a kiss that would have left Aphrodite weeping. He waited only a moment to respond, to catch up to her and the hands that had momentarily been frozen at his side wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

Home. She was home in his arms, with her fingers buried in his hair and his body pressed against hers as his lips destroyed her very sanity. Relief filled her as his hand glided to her cheek, caressing the skin there before his fingers delved into the strands of her hair, guiding the angle of their kiss, deepening the caresses of his tongue until Phee was not even certain if they were two or merely one being melded and formed together.

It was bliss.

It was not enough.

“Harrison,” she let out in a gasp as he shifted directions, intent on focusing his attention on destroying her sanity. “Harrison, come with me.”

Her words seemed to shake him awake from his desires, his body stepping away from her as his hooded gaze took her in. His hair was an utter mess, the disarray charming, and his breaths were erratic, the rise and fall of his beautiful chest creating a peekaboo effect with his shirt, giving slips of skin before they disappeared behind a pool of white linen.

“Phoebe?” he asked, taking a step away from her and running his hands roughly through his hair. “Phoebe, what are we doing?”

“Kissing?” she asked, taking a step toward him. “Maybe more?”

Harrison shook his head as he took another step in reverse, his back pressing up against the door. “Earlier this evening, you said you didn’t want this.”

Phee nodded her head. “I know what I said, but I was wrong,” she said. Stopping in front of him, Phee kept her hands to herself even though she desperately wanted to stroke the skin that shown between the parted folds of his shirt. “Harrison, I don’t know that a half marriage is something I’m capable of doing. Not when I care for you this much. Not when I want you this badly. I want to know that my nights will end with you by my side and that my days will begin with your beautiful smile being the first thing I see. I want to know that if I long to touch you I am freely allowed to, that I am as much yours as you are mine. Contracts can be changed, but I don’t foresee me ever changing the way I feel about you right now.”

Harrison swallowed, and Phee watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down at the motion. “Phoebe, you have no idea how much I want you.”

Phee reached her hand up and cupped Harrison’s cheek.

“I want you so desperately,” he said with a whisper, his eyes closed as he rubbed his stubbled skin against the palm of her hand. “I can’t even begin to describe the things I want to do with you.”

“Maybe not, but I would like to find out.” Phee smiled. “Can you show me?”

Harrison opened his eyes and looked at her, his brown gaze touching on every speck of her person, and Phee forced herself to stand still and meet his gaze. Whatever it was he was looking for seemed to be found as he stepped forward and closed the door that connected their rooms, sequestering them together in his.

Within a breath, Harrison had taken ahold of her, his hands cupping her arse and lifting her up. Her legs wrapped around his hips of their own inclination, and he smoothly pressed her against the shut door as his mouth returned to hers in a kiss so all-consuming it was a wonder they did not catch fire. But burn for him she did. Every cell of her being longed to meld itself to him, to wrap around his luscious shape and become one. To disappear into the chaos and craving he created.

The hands cupping her arse squeezed her cheeks, massaging the mounds, and between his hands and his mouth it became an overload of want and need. She wanted to drown in his smell, to swim in his kiss. To bury her fingers into the silky strands of his hair to keep him close as she sank into him. Hands on his shoulders, Phee held on, uncertain where this ride was going but unwilling to let go and make it stop. Slipping one hand up into the strands of his hair, Phee scratched her nails against his scalp and Harrison growled in response, his kiss turning deadly as his tongue stole the very breath from her lungs.

Harrison ripped his mouth from hers, his breath leaving his chest in gasps as he rested his forehead against hers. “What are you doing to me?” he asked, his lips falling to her shoulder. “I want to dissolve into you.”

The giggle that escaped her lips even left Phee stunned. She was intoxicated, from power or possession she did not know nor did she care. The only thought that ran on repeat in her mind was more . More Harrison, more fire, more want, more everything. For even if everything burned down around them, she had little doubt that they would still be left standing.

The open gap of his shirt drew her gaze and Phee took the hand resting on his shoulder and stroked the exposed skin, its warmth only giving more merit to the notion that they were ablaze.

“God, yes,” Harrison said, his lips falling to her neck where he bestowed a kiss of teeth and tongue that made heat pool between her legs.

Phee let her head fall back, its thud against the door a boom in the quiet room.

“Is it good, Phoebe?” he asked, dropping a final kiss on her neck. “Do you want more?”

More. There was that word again, trying to prove that she would never have enough of him. Cupping his jaw, Phee looked at him, her body in flames, burning for him. “I want everything.”