Chapter 9

Ivy's tiny gasp and sigh sparked a fire in Harrison's blood.

He didn't remember kissing her this morning. Not really. He'd been too much in his head, still partly dreaming. But he would remember this. The gradual surrender as she melted into him, her hands curling into the front of his shirt, the silk of her hair in his fingers.

He wanted her to remember it, too, so he took his time, exploring her lips and drinking in every little nuance. As he traced the seam of her mouth, she opened for him, instantly angling her head for a deeper kiss. Her ready acquiescence had his patience straining, but he continued to sip, to savor, steeping himself in the taste of her. She was so sweet, so...open. He could get drunk on kissing her alone.

The pulse in her throat hammered against his thumb, urging his own heartbeat into a gallop. But still, he held himself in check. If they were going to do this, he was going to take his time. He'd make it good for her. Make it worth her taking this chance on him.

Rising to her toes, Ivy pressed more firmly against him. His erection nudged her belly. She was short. Too short for them to easily line up while standing. Blindly, he backed them toward the sofa, praying he didn't run into the table and upset the coffee. Abruptly bumping into the sofa, he sat down hard, breaking their kiss. Ivy followed him down, finding his mouth again like a heat-seeking missile as she straddled his lap, fitting herself against the bulge in his jeans.

Harrison groaned, skimming his hands up her back and into her hair.

"Too many clothes," she complained.

"Working on it." His hands went to the belt of her sweater, tugging the knot free.

With considerably less patience, she shoved his flannel shirt off his shoulders, growling a little when it caught. The sound shot straight to his cock. He couldn't stop himself from holding her close and bucking against her heat, torturing them both. Her tongue dipped into his mouth, even as she tugged up his t-shirt, seeking skin. More than happy to oblige, he broke the kiss, yanking the shirt up and off.

Ivy's pupils all but swallowed up the green of her eyes as she took in the sight of him. She sucked in a slow breath. "I didn't have adequate opportunity to appreciate this earlier." She trailed a finger down his shoulder, over one pec to circle his nipple. "God was in a very, very good mood when He made you."

"Pretty sure that was the United States Army."

"God bless America." Her mouth came back to his, unabashedly greedy as her hands streaked over his chest and shoulders.

He loved every second.

Tunneling beneath her shirt, he stroked his fingers over her back, her ribs, and higher to cup her breasts. On a moan, Ivy arched into the touch, her nipples pearling. He wanted to taste them, wanted to see them but contented himself for the moment with exploring by touch, seeing how she responded when he tugged down the cups of her bra and skimmed his roughened fingers over her tender skin.

"More. Very definitely more of that." As if to help him along with that decision, she grasped the hem of her shirt and tugged it off.

The sight of the livid bruising slapped him in the face again. It ran from her left shoulder down to her right hip, clearly showing where she'd been thrown against the seat belt. His hands stilled. She'd been in an accident just yesterday. What the hell was he doing?

Ivy cupped his face in her hand, forcing his gaze up. "It looks worse than it is. It doesn't hurt."

He'd been bruised countless times, in countless ways. He knew the stages, knew the level of pain associated with each. There was no way in hell this didn't hurt.

"Please don't stop."

She wanted this, wanted him, and God knew, he wanted her. So he wouldn't stop, but he'd damned well find some control and finesse and be gentle about it.

Leaning forward, Harrison pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder, where the angry purple began. Ivy's breath hitched, her fingers spearing into his hair to hold him to her. He traced the path of the bruising with his mouth.

"I was never a fan of the whole kiss it make it better thing, but you're changing my mind."

He smiled against her skin, taking a moment to linger between her breasts as he unfastened her bra and drew it off. He traced the inner curve of each breast with his tongue, wanting more, needing more, but holding himself back. He had a mission to complete now - to make her forget she'd been injured at all.

Lifting his head, he combed his fingers through her thick, brown hair. "Let's go upstairs."

She slid off his lap, sending him a heated look over her shoulder as she crossed the room. Harrison thought he'd happily follow her anywhere. He admired the sway of her ass as she preceded him up the steep, narrow staircase, and maybe that was how he missed when her nerves crept back in.

As he stepped into the loft, he saw her deliberately unclench her fingers and straighten rounded shoulders, a quick flash of uncertainty giving way to relief. The realization that she'd thought he might change his mind and turn away from her again was a punch to the gut.

Jesus, he'd been a jackass.

Wanting to put her at ease again, he framed her face and kissed her, long and deep, until she relaxed against him, her arms snaking around his waist.

"Still okay?"

"Why aren't we naked yet?" Ah, there was that sweet tone of demand again.

His lips kicked up. "You in a hurry?"

"Kinda."

"Too bad. I'm not." Determined to make up for giving her any reason to doubt him, he drowned the protest she made with another kiss designed to make her forget exactly what she was complaining about.

Nudging her back on the bed, Harrison efficiently pulled off her shoes and socks. Instead of starting in on her jeans, he crawled up the bed, up her body, close enough that the hair of his chest brushed against the sensitive skin of her breasts. Her breath hitched and she arched into him. And didn't that just put her long, lovely neck right there for his mouth to feast on?

Ivy tipped her head back as he began to explore the side of her throat. "More skin-to-skin."

Harrison had been a soldier for a lot of years. He knew how to take orders. He dragged his stubbled cheek across her collar bone. "I intend to taste every inch of your skin. Does that work for you?"

Ivy's entire body clenched beneath him in anticipation. "Given what your mouth is doing to me so far, I suspect it absolutely will. But just so you know, I really want to feel your hands again."

He didn't often have cause to think about his hands in a positive light. The things he'd done with them in the line of duty - Harrison cut off the thought, glancing up to where they circled her wrists, pinning her loosely in place. If she liked the idea of his hands, he was more than happy to put them to better use. "Where?"

"Everywhere," she breathed.

Oh yeah, he could get into that. "How about we do both?"

"Please, God, yes."

He used them on her - fingers, tongue, teeth, lips - until every exposed inch quivered with need and sensation. She encouraged him every step of the way, saying exactly what she liked, what she loved, what she needed more of. Then, and only then, did he strip off her jeans and panties to continue his thorough exploration, working his way up her legs from her delicate ankles.

As he began to nuzzle the soft, soft skin at the inside of her thigh, Ivy muttered, "I might simply burn up and die if you don't hurry up and put that mouth where I need it most."

Smiling again - he'd smiled more since this woman came into his life than the entire past year - he asked, "Do you always talk this much during sex?"

"What?" The word came out strained.

"You've had this kind of one-sided dialogue going since we got started up here."

"I have?"

"Mmm." He kissed a couple inches higher.

Her body tensed. "I used to be a sleep talker as a kid. I didn't know I was a sex talker."

Sorry he'd inadvertently embarrassed her, he gently pressed apart the knees she'd begun to close so he could look up the length of her body into her eyes. "I love knowing what I'm doing to you."

The vulnerability on her face had little to do with his position between her legs. "You do?"

"It's incredibly fucking hot. And, for the record, you won't die. Not on my watch."

"Good to knooo - oh God."

At the first touch of his tongue down her center, she bowed up off the bed, hands fisting in the covers. He simply used his hands to hold her hips steady as he began to lick and suck at her most sensitive flesh, until the only word she could manage was his name. She screamed it as the orgasm ripped through her.

Best sound ever.

As she lay gasping for breath, Harrison prowled up her body again, reaching for one of the condoms in his wallet on the bedside table.

"You lied." Because the words sounded conversational instead of accusatory, he didn't slow his movements.

"About what?"

"I really don't think I just lived through that. It was too good. Glad I went out on a high note, though."

This woman was good for his ego.

On a chuckle, Harrison rose over her, loving her flushed, sated look in the middle of the rumpled bed and knowing he'd done that. "You're quite the soprano, but I expect we can find proof of life yet." He stroked the blunt tip of his cock through the wetness between her thighs.

Already arching up to him, Ivy levered up to brush her lips over his. "I do appreciate a man who loves a challenge."

Harrison followed her mouth back down, covering her body with his as he eased inside her. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she dug her heels into his ass, urging him deeper.

Christ almighty, she felt so good.

And she was suddenly too quiet. Shit. "You stopped talking. You okay? Did I hurt you?"

Ivy framed his face, eyes searching his for...what?

He couldn't stop himself from cupping her cheek, wanting to do something, anything to reassure her. She shouldn't ever have cause to doubt him again.

Evidently finding what she needed, she offered the sweetest smile as she tipped her mouth up to his. "So very okay."

He'd make sure she stayed that way. He began to move in a torturously slow, controlled rhythm that had her body coiling again for the climb. He was climbing with her this time, drawing on every shred of control he possessed not to simply plunge into her and lose himself. Because she was better for him than her books, better than writing. Right here, with her, he couldn't think of anything but the slow, blistering glide of their bodies coming together.

Her hands streaked over him, fraying his control as she met him thrust for thrust. As she neared the edge, her body beginning to ripple around him, he fought to hang on, to put her first.

"Harrison."

His gaze sharpened on hers. She looked up at him, seemingly into him, and he felt more exposed than he ever had in his life. But what shields could he have here, buried inside her? Did she see that he was broken? That he didn't deserve this? Didn't deserve her?

He faltered.

Her hands curled into his shoulders. "With me. Come with me."

At her demand, he dropped his brow to hers. "Ivy."

"With me," she repeated, her climax already gripping him. "Let go. You can let go."

And like the good soldier he'd been, he followed orders.

* * *

Every single one of Ivy's nerve endings was alight. If she opened her eyes, she was positive she'd be glowing. She'd have to check. In a minute. Or twenty. Her limbs felt heavy. So did Harrison's weight stretched out on her, though he'd tucked his arms alongside her torso to keep from crushing her.

"I'll move in a minute." His voice rumbled against the crook of her neck.

Because her hand was conveniently already there, Ivy stroked it through the hair at his nape, enjoying the slide of the strands through her fingers. "No rush. You make an excellent blanket."

They lay there, still joined, breathing together in the silence. Ivy waited for that to feel strange. Instead it felt...peaceful, as if they'd done this countless times before. Her life would definitely be richer if they had, and she had high hopes that they would do it again. Preferably as soon as he was physically able. And maybe sometime later. Or a lot of times later. She was really beginning to see the benefits of a blizzard.

Harrison stirred, pushing himself up enough to look down at her. He held there for a long moment, and Ivy felt the weight of his stare down to her bones.

"I'll be right back." He rolled off and went to take care of the essentials.

Ivy stared at the ceiling, her throat dry. This whole encounter was more than she'd bargained for. Beyond the mind-numbing pleasure - and holy shit, he was amazing - there was a gravity to what they'd just done that shook her. Everything about him had been so wholly unexpected and she didn't know exactly what to do about it. About them. If there was a them.

He came back up the stairs, bottled waters in hand. Twisting the cap off one, he handed it over.

Ivy guzzled down half.

"I really hope you were at a good stopping point in the outline," he said, sipping at his own bottle. "Because I'm not letting you out of this bed."

As threats went, it was one she could absolutely get behind. Her body hummed at the erotic glint in his eyes. His shields were up again. Apparently, he was intent on ignoring the weight of this thing between them. He knew it was there. She'd seen it in his face, unguarded as they'd made love - because nothing about what they'd done had been just sex. But he wasn't ready to meet her there yet. This was more than she'd expected, more than she'd planned, as he was more. So she wouldn't make the mistake she'd made before of sharing her observations too soon.

Because it was what he seemed to want, she dug deep to find some levity. She met his gaze over the bottle. "This whole interlude gives 'Thank you for your service' a whole new meaning. I don't think I've ever been serviced quite so well."

He snorted out a laugh and flopped into bed beside her. "Happy to oblige." The hand he laid high on her thigh told her he'd be happy to oblige again. "So were you at a good stopping point in your outline?"

She finished off the water and set the bottle to the side, intent on freeing her hands to touch him again. "Good enough. I poured out the lion's share of that first rush. I can't believe I didn't see it before, how they'd fit together."

Her gaze traced the coat of arms tattoo on his biceps. She hadn't really noticed it before. The shield held a sun, a star, and a lightning bolt and told her without a word that he was an Airborne Ranger, part of the Army's seventy-fifth regiment. Special Forces. No wonder he hadn't thought a thing about rappelling down a snowy mountainside.

"I thought you didn't write romance."

"Not as a focus, but relationships add stakes and depth to a story, not to mention verisimilitude and a great vehicle for change. Seeing a closed off character open up because of love is incredibly satisfying as a reader. I don't think either of them will have the necessary vulnerability to impact each other without it. And I think you were exactly right. Michael is afraid of caring about her, of what he'd do for her."

The hand on her thigh clenched for just a moment before relaxing. "There's not much more than love that'll send a man straight into hell. Whether it's love of a woman or love of a brother."

She wondered what hell he'd walked through and for whom.

Laying a hand on his chest, Ivy trailed her fingers over the ridges and planes, gratified at the way his breath quickened. Several scars added character to that beautiful body. She didn't avoid them, but didn't pay any undue attention either. She had no trouble imagining a knife fight or Harrison hunkered down with his men, taking fire from insurgents. But she wouldn't ask him about any of that. Not now. Still, her curiosity was more than piqued. They'd been as intimate as two people could be, but she still knew next to nothing about him.

"Tell me something real about you."

"Something real?"

"Yeah. Like - I don't know - what was your first car? The name of your dog growing up? When did you lose your virginity?"

"An '88 Oldsmobile, Buster, and Mandy Gilcrest, in the back of that Oldsmobile on graduation night."

"I suppose a land yacht would be handy for backseat space. My granddaddy had one of those. That thing was freaking huge. You could fit a whole side of beef in the trunk."

"They don't make 'em like that anymore, that's for sure." His tone held the kind of affection only men seemed to hold for vehicles.

Okay, she really didn't want to talk about cars. She wanted to talk about him. "Tell me something else."

His fingers traced patterns on her back. "Just ask."

A hundred questions leapt to her lips, but she held them back. She didn't want to ruin this by voicing any of the ones she really wanted to know. "Where did you grow up?"

"Little town in Washington, near the coast. What about you?"

"Well, as I said, I was a preacher's kid, so we moved a lot. Most of my childhood was in South Alabama at varying distances from Mobile. Mom, Dad, sister."

"You're the oldest."

"I'm the oldest," she confirmed.

Leaning up, she pressed a soft kiss to the scar on his cheek. "What's this really from?"

"Coffee mug. It was Mother's Day and I was six. I'd made her breakfast. Which was really a bowl of cereal with an orange. But I'd watched her make coffee every day of my life, so I made some of that. Probably got the ratio of grounds to water all kinds of wrong, but I was so damned proud I'd managed the machine. I was in a rush, trying to get it all done before she woke up, so I could surprise her, and I tripped as I was carrying it to the tray on the kitchen table. The mug crashed to the floor and I hit right after. Landed right on one of the pieces of the mug. So instead of the nice relaxing morning I'd planned for her, we spent it in the ER getting stitches."

But he'd tried. She liked knowing that even when he was little, he'd tried to do something to take care of his mom. She liked, too, that not all of his scars were from his military service.

"Y'all are tight?"

"Yeah. It was just us growing up." He didn't elaborate and Ivy didn't press.

Because she wasn't sure she could hold back the rest of the questions she wanted to ask and because she didn't want to screw this up, Ivy decided the best course of action for them both was distraction. Sitting up, she swung a leg over his and shifted to straddle him. "Are you done with your water?"

Arching a brow, he drained the last of his bottle and tossed it.

"Good. Because as my current muse, I think I should get to study this body for research, and round one was all about you studying mine."

He grinned and sat up, running his hands down her back. "It's my new favorite subject."

The position made it more than clear he'd had enough time to recover. Digging for some control, she shoved him back. Or tried. He didn't budge an inch. "Lay back down and be a good test subject so I can take some notes. With my mouth."

Harrison dropped back, arms spread wide. "Yes, ma'am."