Devil's Due [h.s.]

Chapter 63

"Knew it," I managed breathlessly, bracing a hand on his upper arm.

"The look you get..." he went on, nipping gently at my earlobe, voice lowering, "when I get you all worked up," he suddenly hiked his leg higher, pressing it right between the apex of my thighs, "only to end up not giving you what you want."

A hiss tore its way out of me at the feeling, something that pleased Harry to no end because he hummed against my skin before pulling away to face me. I noted the flush on his cheeks, the amused grin gracing his lips, as he murmured, "Mornin'. Wanna tell me what the face was for if I didn't cause it this time?"

"There was no face," I lied with a roll of my eyes, not wanting to bring up anything to do with Damien or the fight when he seemed in such good spirits. "And if there was, it was probably me anticipating what you were going to do when you woke up."

"Yeah?" Harry licked his lips, grin widening. "Automatically assume I'd leave you high and dry?"

Another roll of my eyes. "Isn't that what you were just doing–"

One of Harry's hands drifted down to grip my thigh and he bucked his hips toward mine. Another sharp breath left me, and I dropped my forehead to rest on his, reeling in the aftermath of feeling the prominent bulge tenting his boxers between my legs. His eyes flitted up to look at me, mouth searching for mine moments later. Neither of us seemed to care that we hadn't brushed our teeth.

"Harry..." The word was a strained whine coming from the back of my throat and I made to pull away.

"Kiss me," he pleaded, reaching up to grip my jaw. "Please. Missed you."

He ground his hips against me again, huffing a sharp breath against my lips. Our foreheads were still connected as I managed, "We can't. You can't–"

"I'm perfectly fuckin' capable–" his words were cut short when a hiss escaped him, different from the others this time, and I willed my heart to remain steady as he attempted to bury a wince. One that had obviously arisen from too much excessive movement on his part.

My hands found his face, warm beneath my fingertips, and I guided his gaze to mine – one that now looked defeated and if I was reading it correctly, a little embarrassed. "I'm sorry," I whispered. The pad of my thumb ran along his bottom lip. "Just until you're healed, okay?"

"They aren't broken," he said softly and, to my surprise, nuzzled his cheek further against my hand. He kissed the corner of my palm. "I... I know what they feel like when they're broken and 'm just a bit bruised this time around. Probably because..."

He trailed off with another wince, averting his gaze from mine.

Because he hadn't given anyone else the opportunity to hit him as hard as he'd hit them.

"Well, it's good they're not broken," I cooed, attempting to rid that forlorn expression from his face however I could. My hand gave his cheek a gentle squeeze and the moment I went to remove it, his fingers caught my wrist and he held me there. "Means you'll be healed sooner than you know."

Harry rolled his eyes, finally relenting enough to let me drop my hands from his face. Voice low and teasing, he mumbled, "Sure I'd be fine if we just took it slow–"

As much as my skin heated at the proposition, I willed myself to remain strong. "You'll be fine, idiot," it was my turn to roll my eyes. "You act like you can't go a week or two without sex."

"I mean," Harry ran his tongue along his inner cheek, amused, and leaned in to nip at my jaw, "can you fuckin' blame me?" His lips migrated to my cheek, where he murmured, "Sometimes I feel like I can't get close enough to you," his hands smoothed up my back again, "wish we were molded together or somethin'."