Page 15 of Protector
His embrace engulfs me in calm comfort. His steady heartbeat and rich musky smell are like a tranquilizer to my anxiety, and I feel better after ripping open my heart and sending away my sister. It needed to be done, but a part of me feels guilty and probably always will. Still, I’m proud of myself. No one hurts me the way Luna does, and that’s because I keep giving her that power.
No more. From now on, I’m living for me.
I feel so empowered after my voyeur experience, enough to ask Harris to a home movie.
To watch, not make!
Our hug ebbs, and he lets me down. Stepping back, I smile.
“Do you still want to stay? I don’t know if there are cameras in my room. I can’t believe she did this to me.” Emotion chokes me with pain that cuts deep.
Harris blankets me in his huge arms again, and peace falls over me with his warmth. The comfort makes me want to open up.
“She’s always been a brat, but somehow, I fooled myself into thinking she would never do anything to hurt me. That somewhere in her vain mindset, she still had my back. Before we were signed to Wildflowers, she was different. Kinder. She thought about others, at least once in awhile, but you know what they say about fame.”
“It changes people.”
I nod in agreement. “And there’s nothing you can do about it. I’ve tried.”
Even as it all sinks in, the pain doesn’t grow.
“Maybe, part of me knew she’d end up burning me. I doubt I would change anything, though. She’s my sister. I know we’ll find some middle ground at some point.”
“If that’s what you want,” he mumbles, and I hear the protective edge in his voice.
“You don’t like Luna very much, do you?”
“She’s your sister, Ivy, and I respect that.”
“I’m cuddled in your arms, Harris. You’re not my bodyguard, right now.”
That gets me a broad smile under that nice, smooth beard, and he licks his lips in thought for quick moment before replying.
“No, baby, I don’t like your sister, but that doesn’t mean I won’t do everything in my power to make sure she’s taken care of.”
His answer is a lot more than I’m expecting. Deeper, more romantic and I feel it run through my body. It’s the same rush I got from a stranger’s eyes on me earlier.
Swallowing hard, I ask why.
“Because I love you, and you love her.”
I gasp at his words. He loves me? But he doesn’t know me? Wait, this is the same man who orders my dinner every night, without fail, because I once mentioned I forget to eat when I’m writing a new song. He can’t possibly love me, though. The way he’s looking at me now makes me question the entire past year.
“You love me?”
“Without question. But I don’t expect anything. Never have.”
“How long?”
“How long have I loved you? For three hundred and sixty five days as of today.”
“When we met?”
“Damn right. Now, it’s a lot more. I know you, Ivy. Your kind heart, your sweet spirit. I’m far from good enough for you. I know that.”
“Shut up,” I cry, pulling at the back of his neck, bringing his mouth to mine.
Our kiss is searing. There’s been too much built-up tension for far too long. So much longing. It’s like a bomb going off. We explode. Like feral animals, we maul each other the moment our lips meet. Those big hands clench my hips in a possessive touch the likes of which I’ve never felt. I couldn’t stop my moan if I tried, not that I do. I embrace it all. Each biting touch, every single nip from his teeth.