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Harry’s brain, which usually had a million thoughts working through it at any given time, narrowed its focus to only one thought—Magenta. Only she had the power to stop him thinking about anything but her. Her lips tasted like honey and were as soft as petals, but the way she kissed wasn’t flower delicate. It was a devouring. He loved every second of it.
Magenta’s fingers worked their way into his overgrown hair and tugged. The tingle in his scalp made him grateful that he rarely remembered to get a haircut. If this was what it felt like to have Magenta hold on to him, then he was keeping his hair long from now on. She gasped into his mouth as his hands slid under her T-shirt to caress her back. Her warm, smooth skin was like heaven. He could spend days caressing each and every inch of her.
With a flick of his wrist, he unsnapped her bra. She made a little growling noise and deepened the kiss. Damn, her taste was addictive. Gasping for air, Harry broke the kiss. As fast as he could, he whisked the T-shirt and bra over her head, before she had time to protest. One look into her desire-filled eyes and he knew protesting was the last thing on her mind.
“Admit you love me,” Harry ordered.
Her hands massaged his shoulders, nails digging in and sending spikes of need throughout his body. “Get over yourself, Harry. You’re not that irresistible.” Magenta’s voice was husky and slightly dazed. He smiled against the curve of her neck at the sound.
Breathing deeply of the fragrance that was pure Magenta, he nipped the spot where her shoulder curved into neck and was rewarded by a moan. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders.
“Say you love me,” he said against her skin before he sucked, hoping to leave a mark. “We both know you do. You might as well admit it.”
Her breasts pressed against his chest. She wriggled to make her nipples rub against his hair and murmured in delight. Harry licked a path along her shoulder as he kept his arms tight around her.
“Come on, Magenta, tell me you love me,” he said. “You know you want to.”
He angled her back and glanced at her face. The emotion he saw there stopped his heart. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. He was transfixed. The depth of Magenta’s feelings for him were written in her eyes. They stared at each other for long moments. But still Magenta didn’t speak. With a small smile, Harry broke eye contact, leaned forward and sucked her nipple. Her fingers flew back to his hair as she held on tight. Harry swirled the peak with his tongue. Her moan almost made him lose control.
“Give in, say the words.”
He kissed and sucked and nibbled on her gorgeous flesh, listening with delight as she whimpered and gasped. He felt her shiver under his touch, and sway as her knees weakened. It made him want to roar with delight.
“Not. Going. To. Happen.” Her words were spat out between gasping breaths. “You. Can’t. Make. Me. Say. It.”
He let her nipple go with a satisfying pop as he leaned back to look at her flushed face.
“Is that a challenge?” He could tell by the wide-eyed look that his grin was as wicked as he felt.
Slowly, she smiled back at him with an answering sparkle of mischief in her eyes.
“Bring your A-game, Harry boy—there’s no way you’ll make me say anything I don’t want to.”
With a laugh, he picked her up and threw her back on to the bed. She bounced once with a squeal before he pressed his weight alongside her.
“A-game it is, then,” he told her before capturing her lips with his.
Magenta was smiling when Harry kissed her. Nothing would stop him now. His cavemanly honour was at stake. If she wasn’t giddy with the taste of his decadent lips, she would have giggled.
His big hand smoothed down her side, over the outer curve of her breast, her hip, until it slid under her thigh. He pulled her leg up to him, making space for his hips in the cradle of her thighs. The soft blue jeans he still wore felt almost abrasive against her skin. She wanted them gone. She wanted to feel all of him.
Her fingers danced over the shoulders she loved, and trailed over back muscles that trembled with strength. She wanted to memorise every dip and curve.
“Say it,” he growled against her throat.
“Nuh-uh.” She shook her head. Her eyes closed. A grin on her face.
He bit the tendon on her neck, hard, and Magenta saw stars. Her insides melted.
“Again,” she ordered.
“Say you love me and I’ll do it again.”
Mean. That was just mean. Fine. Two could play at that game. She pressed upwards, tucking her face into his neck. She licked a trail from his shoulder to his ear before grasping his earlobe in her teeth. His breathing was strained. His muscles taut.
“Are you sure you aren’t the one who’s going to give in under pressure?” she whispered against his ear.
He shuddered, growled like an animal. That made her laugh. A laugh that stopped abruptly when his hand curved around her breast and his mouth descended on her nipple. She was so sensitive to his touch that it was almost painful. He sucked hard. Her body bowed beneath him. The moan she made torn from her throat. Her fingers clinging to his shoulders.
“Say it. Say you love me,” he rasped against her.
“I. Love...” He sucked in a breath as he stilled over her. “Your shoulders.”
He growled as she laughed and gasped and moaned in quick succession. She was delirious with wanting him. More than that, she was having fun with him, and that delighted everything within her.
“Evil woman.” He nipped her breast. “Obviously I need to up the stakes.”
He crawled down her body until he was kneeling between her legs. She should have felt self-conscious as he studied her, but the desire in his eyes made her feel needy.
“Now.” He traced his finger along the edge of her underwear. “What would make you surrender fastest?” His smile was so sexy it should have been banned.
“Nothing. There’s nothing you can do that will get me to say the words you want.” She fought a giggle.
“Fighting words.” His thumbs hooked under her underwear at her hips.
Slowly, oh so slowly, he peeled them down, moving back off the bed so he could get them off her. He stood at the end of the bed while she lay naked before him. Spread out like dessert at a buffet.
“Take off your jeans,” she ordered.
He cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands. Tell me you love me and I’ll take them off.”
She laughed so hard her whole body shook. “Isn’t that cutting your nose off to spite your face? Don’t you want your jeans off?”
His cheeks flushed red. “Damn it, Magenta, you make my IQ drop to double digits. It’s impossible to think straight around you.”
She took that as a compliment. Grumbling, he removed his jeans and underpants. She sucked in a breath as he stood before her. Six foot two of solid, delicious man.
“You like?”
“Oh yeah.” She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
“You want?”
“Oh yeah.”
With a cocky grin, he crawled up her body until his face loomed over hers. He held himself above her on hands and knees. “Well, all you have to do is say the words, and all this is yours.”
Magenta laughed until her stomach ached. Harry stayed perched above her, waiting patiently.
“Stupid man,” she said at last. “It’s all mine anyway.”
She ran her hands over his chest and stomach. He stiffened, waiting to see what she would do. Heady from the power she had over him, Magenta wrapped a hand around his shaft.
“Oh, hell,” he groaned. His head fell forward until his forehead rested on hers. “This is not going the way I planned.”
Magenta arched up as her hands stroked his hot flesh and her tongue licked along his bottom lip. “Your A-game sucks, Harry. You’re never going to get me to say what you want like this. You’re putty in my hands. Literally.” She gave him a squeeze to make her point.
Magenta loved the bewildered, yet desperate, look on his face. Poor Harry. He wasn’t going to win, and he didn’t know what to do about it. She was congratulating herself on a game well played when he suddenly moved backwards out of her grasp. Magenta let out a whine of complaint.
With a grin, he crawled back down her body and off the bed. Magenta frowned at him.
“Are you giving up? Do I win?”
“You’re about to.”
Before she could process his words, he fell to his knees at the side of the bed. Strong hands curved around her ankles as he yanked her down until her backside rested on the edge of the bed.
He looked up at her, his eyes skimming over her body. He licked his lips. “If you want to come, you need to say the magic words.”
He palmed her thighs wide.
“Bastard!” Magenta said. Her insult was way too breathless to be of any use.
“That’s not the magic word,” he admonished before his head descended.
At the first touch of his tongue, Magenta almost flew off the bed. Only his strength kept her in place. Her mind spun as her body writhed under him. She couldn’t think. She definitely couldn’t talk. All she could do was feel. And oh my goodness, what a feeling. Her hands clawed at the bedding as she panted her desire. Nearly there. Damn. Her muscles began to spasm, her head felt light, her breath caught in her throat. And then—nothing.
He stopped. She strained to open her eyes. He was sitting back on his heels, grinning at her.
“You want the prize, you need to tell me you love me.”
“Go to hell.” This wasn’t fun anymore. She’d been so close. It was mean to deny her. She almost pouted at the thought.
The evil genius laughed. “Ready for round two?”
Magenta wanted to smack him, but she honestly didn’t have the energy. Her body was wired, desperate for release. She decided to take matters into her own hands. Literally. As her hand moved down her stomach, Harry grabbed it.
“Uh-uh, that’s cheating.” He gathered both her wrists in one of his hands and held them tight on her stomach. “If you want that big O, you need to say the magic words.”
“You’re going to pay for this,” she said. It was pathetically weak.
“I hope so,” he said before his mouth moved back to teasing her.
He sucked, he licked, he nipped. Magenta fought to move her hips. Fought for the release that was just there, sitting out of reach.
He sat back again. At least he was breathing hard. It was good to know she wasn’t the only one affected.
“Magenta,” he growled.
“Fine. Do it. I’ll say the words.”
“Say them first.”
“I love...” She took a deep breath, ready to say it, but her sick sense of humour got the better of her. “I love Harry Potter,” she shouted.
Her giggle was cut short when his tongue touched her again. She honestly couldn’t take any more.
“Fine. Fine. I love you, Hairy Boil, I love you.”
The words released a pressure valve of emotion within her. Every feeling she’d had for him over the years burst forth. Everything she’d buried or denied. Oh how she loved this man.
His forehead rested on her lower stomach, and she felt him relax. “You bet your life you love me.” He sounded smug.
Magenta lifted her head. She blinked back tears of hope that threatened, and aimed for sounding lighthearted. “Are you going to finish this now?”
“Oh yeah.” Harry gave her a satisfied grin.
His skilled lips and tongue devoured her, and ten seconds later she was flying. The world disappeared. Perfect. It was perfect. When she came back to earth, she was lying sprawled on the bed with Harry over her. The heat from his skin soothed her. He brushed her hair away from her face, placing a kiss on her nose.
“I love you too, Magenta,” he said against her lips.
Her heart stuttered at the words. Hope bloomed within her. She wanted him. She wanted to believe they could get past their differences. She wanted it so much it hurt.
Slowly, she felt him inch inside her. Harry. Her Harry. The only man she’d ever loved. He’d been everything to her. Her whole world. She wanted that again. Desperately. His soft kisses snatched her gasps and moans as he joined with her.
“I love you,” he told her again. “Only you. Forever.”
The words were said solemnly. A promise she was desperate to believe. As he held himself on straining arms above her, Magenta cupped his face in her hands.
“I do love you, you bully,” she said.
His grin was pure sunshine. “One of these days you’ll tell me without insulting me at the same time.”
That made her laugh. A laugh that turned into a desperate gasp as he moved within her. She wrapped her arms around him and let herself drift away, floating on waves of sensation.
Perfect.