Again, thank you for all the reviews. Glad that some are enjoying. Sorry about my too perfect Harry. I blame it entirely on Peter Firth and his lips. And his voice. And his eyes. And the blue shirt. Definitely the blue shirt.
Disclaimer: Still do not own them or earn anything from them.
Odd. Harry had seemed hesitant in the restaurant, but he'd taken her hand the moment they stepped onto the sidewalk. Actually, he had frowned down at their entwined fingers and stuffed their joined hands in the pocket of his coat.
"You should wear gloves," he said softly, with a hint of gruffness.
She really didn't know what possessed her. She supposed she could blame it on the stress of the day and the two glasses of wine with her dinner. It certainly couldn't have been because of the warm, tingling sensation that spread from their joined fingers all the way to the center of her chest. Whatever it was, she leaned toward him and murmured, "I don't know that I should if this is my reward."
His step faltered just a little. Not much. No one but her would ever have noticed it. "Reward?"
"I rather like holding your hand, and your pocket is warm," she said more confidently.
She kept her eyes fixed on the sidewalk in front of them, but she could feel him twist his head to glance down at her. He kept walking, steps not faltering again. She would have thought he was upset if his hand hadn't squeezed hers tightly.
As they approached her door, she pulled all her courage together for a single word, "Coffee?"
He stopped on the step below her, and she turned to face him so that they were now disconcertingly eye to eye.
"I don't know if my coming in would be a good idea," he said softly but his eyes were searching hers, and she thought he was almost beseeching her to disagree.
"Harry, it's coffee," she sighed, "I'm hardly going to jump over the table at you."
He smiled, and his gaze grew just a shade more intense.
"Unless you'd want me to?" her voice was uncertain. "Or if you wanted to?
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. This kiss was as different from the second one as that one had been from the first. There was passion infused throughout this kiss and reassurance and loving tenderness. She pulled her head back to look at his eyes. His lips followed her, and he kissed her once more, softly. He lifted his eyebrows at her questioningly, "Inside?"
She nodded, "Inside."
Once she'd managed to unlock the door, which was no easy task with Harry surrounding her, they stumbled over the threshold. Ruth turned and pressed Harry back against the door, reaching around him to turn the lock. His lips were on hers again and now he cupped her face in his hands, stroking her cheeks with his gloved thumbs.
"Ruth," he breathed out between kisses, "this is," he leaned forward to kiss her again, "not a good idea."
She pulled back, breathing heavy, and when his lips chased her, she pulled back even more. "It's a horrible idea," she agreed, then leaned forward to capture his bottom lip between hers. "But that doesn't mean that I don't want it." She trailed kisses along the underside of his jaw.
He growled softly before turning his head to explore her lips and mouth thoroughly with his own again. After enjoying his kisses for far longer than she should have, she leaned back and pressed her fingers to his lips to block them. She couldn't think. Not when he was there and doing that and doing that so incredibly well. He smiled against the tips of her fingers and straightened, thankfully putting a little more distance between his tempting lips and hers. "I'm glad that you want it. I mean, I wasn't sure."
"Well, you are an excellent kisser which bodes well for, um," she had started boldly but her confidence waned.
He was positively grinning now, and his eyes which had been watching hers flicked toward the stairs. "For other things?" he suggested in his low purr.
And that voice. It was a wonder she didn't drag him by the scruff of his neck to her bed this instant. She smiled but turned serious again, "Harry when you kissed me the first time. At the hospital."
"You mean the second time," he corrected, still grinning, "because the first time you definitely kissed me."
"Nevertheless," she continued, determined to have her answer, "I thought it was just part of the legend."
It was a statement, but there was certainly a great deal of question in it.
"I don't play a role with you, Ruth," he said seriously, "I may pretend to be James to help you, but when I kissed you then and when I kiss you now it's only Harry."
She studied his eyes for a moment to ensure that he was in fact being truthful. Then she relaxed, hands on his upper arms. "I suppose now is when I would ask you to stay."
"And I would answer that I don't want to take advantage," he replied, hands still on her waist and thumbs stroking the underside of her ribs.
She nearly sighed at the sensations his hands were causing, and a smile tugged at her lips, "Then I would say that I only want you to stay for the company."
His hands curved around her back and the twinkle returned to his eyes, "In that case, I would agree but only if you let me sleep in your spare room."
"I would argue that my bed is big enough for two, and we're both adults," the smile that had been threatening broke through, and she did sigh when his fingers brushed over a particularly sensitive spot along her spine.
He laughed and sank back against the door, sliding down so that his eyes were on her level, "We are both definitely adults, and that's the reason that if we're together in the same bed I think I could guarantee no sleep."
She leaned closer to him, intrigued, "Guarantee? Really?"
He shook his head quickly and grew serious, straightening off the door and dropping his hands to his sides, "Ruth, I don't want that."
She was surprised at the depth of her disappointment and backed away, "Oh, I see. Well, I'll just get the coffee. If you still want that?"
"No!" he cut her off sharply, "That's not what I mean. I mean I do want to sleep with you, or well actually not sleep with you. Just not yet. I mean…"
"Harry," she said, swallowing quickly, "it's fine. You don't want to sleep with me. I understand. As we both said, it's a horrible idea."
She started down the hall toward the kitchen, and he grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. He spoke fiercely, both hands gripping her upper arms, "Ruth. I do want to sleep with you but only after we are totally and utterly exhausted from hours of me worshipping every inch of your body."
Blood rushed to her face as images of her spy hovering over her body, kissing her breasts, between her thighs, pressing into her, filled her mind. She felt as though she could barely breathe. She ran a trembling hand over her forehead.
"Harry, you are the single most confusing, infuriating, exasperating man that I've ever met," she burst out in frustration.
He leaned his back against the wall and rubbed his hand over his forehead, "What I am trying to say is that I don't want only that from you. I want to get to know you. Away from work. Away from everything if possible. I want to eat meals with you, take you to the theatre, listen to concerts, walk in the park. I want to help you now, planning and taking care of your mother. And," his lip quirked up in a half smile, "I want to leave a toothbrush here, one that's not been used to clean grout."
She sank back against the opposite wall and watched him for a few moments, arms crossed over her chest to guard herself from him. "I see. That's, well," her eyes scrunched up as she tried to understand everything he'd said, "I didn't expect that."
"What did you expect?" he asked. There was curiosity in the question but not the challenge there might have been; the challenge that probably would have been there before this insane day.
She took a deep breath. What had she expected? Should she tell him? She looked into his eyes for a moment. Whatever he was-boss, friend, spy, lover (imaginary or otherwise)-he deserved to know the truth. "I thought you were attracted to me, but just for, well, an easy shag to be crude about it."
His eyes and manner went completely quiet. "That is crude."
The hurt that she saw made her apologize and reach toward him, "It is, and I'm sorry for thinking that of you."
"Don't feel too sorry," he grimaced, pushing himself off the wall and starting toward the kitchen, "It would have been true ten years ago. Could we have that coffee now?"
Reviews are welcome as always.