“Stop!”

Harry heard Ginny’s shout before he reached the narrow wooden stairs at the back of his office that led up to his living quarters, but he didn’t believe what he’d heard. He believed his eyes—eyes that had seen Stephen Adler down on one knee in front of Ginny, and then saw him stand so that she could kiss him. He was tired of being played for a fool, mostly by himself. Ginny had made her choice, and it wasn’t him.

“Are you daft, man? I said stop!”

This time, Ginny’s cry came from the bottom of the stairs. Harry paced across the single, large room where he lived. His bed was tucked in one corner, under the eaves, a simple table and two chairs stood in the middle of the space, and a stove, sink, and cupboards took up most of one wall. He’d reached the far side of the room before Ginny stomped up the stairs, slamming his door shut behind her.

“What gives you the right to—”

“Walk across my own courtyard in the middle of the day to the stable where I work?” he finished her question for her.

She stood there, mouth open, eyes narrowed, seething with rage. “That wasn’t what I was going to say.”

“No? Then what were you going to say?” He changed his mind about keeping his distance and marched forward to stand toe-to-toe with her.

“I was going to say….” She snapped her mouth shut, breathing heavily through her nose and glaring at him. Her cheeks were flushed a deep pink, contrasting with the blue flames of her eyes. Her perfect breasts heaved as she breathed, sending Harry’s mind and senses to a thousand places they shouldn’t have gone. But it was the slightly battered bouquet in her fist that kept him from calming down.

“Lovely flowers,” he said, near shouting. “Did he bring you a ring too?”

“As a matter of fact, he did,” she growled.

Her admission was like a fist in his gut. There was no denying where things were going now. “Congratulations on your upcoming marital adventure,” he seethed. “I’m sure you’ll be very happy.”

He turned to walk away.

“No, we won’t,” Ginny followed him, her voice as intense as ever.

Harry let out an ironic laugh and turned back to her so suddenly that she nearly fell into his arms. “What’s not to be happy about? You’re finally getting everything you’ve always wanted.”

“How do you know what I want?” she demanded.

“Marry Adler and you’re marrying up,” he said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Marry him and you get to go on the adventure of a lifetime. Probably more than one adventure. Australia today, and who knows? Maybe the Amazon tomorrow. You must be so pleased.”

“I am not pleased,” she said, her anger not abating. “I’m furious.”

“Why? What could you possibly have to be furious about?”

“You—” She pressed her lips together, the strain in her expression suddenly so intense and her eyes so glassy that if he hadn’t known any better, he would have thought some invisible force had stopped up her mouth just as an explosion happened within her. “You don’t know what I want,” she said at last.

Harry crossed his arms and rested his weight on one him. “Of course I know what you want. You and I have been friends for years.”

“Friends, you call it?”

“Yes! What else could it be?”

To Harry’s shock, instead of answering, Ginny pulled back and smashed him with her bouquet. “We are so much more than friends,” she shouted, hitting him again and again with the flowers. Harry raised one arm to defend himself and backed up, but she pursued him, swatting him with flowers until petals littered the floor around him and the thorns in the bouquet’s roses cut marks on his wrist. “How dare you assume otherwise?”

“I’m not assuming anything,” he insisted, although a part of him knew he was lying. He’d spent years telling himself there was nothing more between them than met the eye, but if he didn’t admit that he’d been fooling himself, he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.

Ginny let out a wordless shout and struck him with the bouquet a few more times before it disintegrated completely. Harry was backed up against his bed at that point, his calves hitting hard against the bottom edge of the bedframe. Without flowers, Ginny had nothing left to hit him with but her fist. Harry caught it in mid-air before she could do any harm.

“Where is this all coming from?” he demanded, refusing to let her hand go.

Instead of answering directly, she said, “You can’t honestly be standing there asking me why I’m upset that the most boring man in all of England asked me to marry him while you can’t even be bothered to tell me we’re more than friends.”

Harry gaped at her. His chest tightened, and a whirlwind dropped into his stomach. His thoughts were caught up in that whirlwind, though, and he couldn’t grasp hold of any of them long enough to focus. She didn’t like Adler? She wanted him to admit they were more than friends? Had everything he’d assumed about her, about the two of them, for so long been wrong?

She stood right in front of him, chest heaving as her anger grew hotter and hotter, but she didn’t make any attempt to pull her wrist free of his grip. She glared at him, but there was something beyond mere anger in the heat radiating from her. The air between them was impossibly charged, and there was only one thing Harry could do about it.

He twisted her wrist behind her back, pressing his hand into the small of her back and tugging her against him. His free hand gripped the back of her head, and he kissed her with so much force that she bent backward in his arms. But he wasn’t about to let her go or let up the intensity of his kiss. It was a war between them that he was determined to win. His mouth punished hers, his lips taking what they wanted from her and his tongue thrusting against hers. She was his, and the sooner she realized it and abandoned any thoughts of Adler or Australia or any other man, the better.

Her body went limp in his arms, and soon he was supporting her weight as she sagged in his embrace. Her arms snaked around him, her fingers threading through his hair, and he slowly became aware of the tender, passionate sounds she was making. He leaned back to catch his breath, staring into her eyes and finding nothing but longing and acceptance there. Then he surged into her for another kiss to prove that it wasn’t all just a glorious dream.

So many times before, he’d felt the lure of passion urging him to do more than just kiss Ginny. She made his heart sing and his body sizzle. He’d always held back, though, taking things just far enough to leave them both only partially satisfied and hungry for more. And as much as his mind told him this time was no different, he didn’t listen. He left her lips, kissing his way down her neck with desperate, panting need. His hands worked at the buttons of her bodice until he lost patience and grabbed hold of both sides to rip it open.

The pop and clatter of buttons hitting the floor and rolling away, along with his control, left Ginny gasping and clinging to him. She tilted her head back, giving him greater access to the long line of her neck as he kissed his way from her jaw to her collarbone, and down to the swell of her breasts above her corset. He kissed her breasts, dragging his tongue across her flesh to taste the salt of her skin, then nibbled and sucked so hard it would leave a mark. He wanted to mark her as his and no one else’s.

“Harry,” she sighed, heavy with desire. Her fingers wove through his hair, her nails digging into his scalp.

He growled at the heady sensation, and thrust his tongue into the valley made by her captive breasts. But it wasn’t enough for him. With trembling hands, he undid the hooks of her corset. As soon as it sagged loose, he straightened and pushed at the layers of fabric hiding her from him. He was brutish and clumsy, and in the process of exposing her breasts, he tangled her arms in fabric, limiting her range of movement. But that only fired his senses hotter.

“I want you,” he rumbled, clasping his hand in the fabric at the small of her back and pulling her into him. He ground his aching erection against her, leaving her in no doubt of what he was talking about. “I’m tired of waiting. I want you right now.”

She made a sound somewhere between excitement and pleading. Her naked breasts rose and fell frantically, her nipples hard and ready for him. He bent once more to kiss her shoulder, biting her gently and making her gasp. Her hips swiveled into his, wanton and daring. With one hand keeping her anchored against him, he raised his free hand to cup her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She shuddered at his touch, and he was certain that under her layers of skirts, she was wet for him.

He didn’t want to simply assume she ached for him, he wanted to know. He took hold of her and pivoted, changing their positions so that she was the one with her legs backed against the bed. She collapsed easily when he nudged her, gasping as she splayed across his quilt. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, and her mouth half open, as if hungry for more.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he told her in a low growl, reaching for the hem of her skirt with both hands. “Every part of you is like heaven.”

She didn’t protest as he rucked her skirt up past her knees and all the way to her hips. In fact, she let out a moan of pleasure, rolling her hips so that her legs spread farther apart. The odd juxtaposition of the passion they were both feeling and her serviceable, wool stockings was almost comical, but neither of them were laughing. He tugged at her garters, pulling both stockings down, then yanked at the ties of her drawers, disposing of them as well.

That left her spread and completely exposed to him, and just as he’d suspected, she was glistening and ready for him. The sight sent spears of desire through his groin, making the heat and pressure in his cock unbearable. But there was more to the moment than a simple need to satisfy his carnal needs.

He dropped to his knees, hooking her legs over his shoulders and yanking her to the edge of the bed. She gasped, her skirt hitching higher across her belly, and steadied herself with one arm. But with her free hand, she grasped her breast. Harry’s cock jumped at the sight, begging for release. The tension winding inside of him made his balls feel like blazing hot cannonballs. He needed her like he needed to breathe.

Instead of satisfying himself, he smoothed his fingers up her thigh, sinking into the wet heat of her core. She cried out and arched up off the bed as he slid two fingers inside of her. Her inner walls clenched him, and he could tell she wouldn’t last long. He’d felt her come for him before, but never like this, never so exposed to him. He’d only ever felt her heat, never gazed on her, and never tasted her. But he wasn’t going to let anything stop him now.

He leaned into her, kissing her nether-lips and sliding his tongue along her opening. She tasted of rich honey and promise. He delved deeper, and she cried out wordlessly, pleading in her voice. He parted her with his fingers, then drew his tongue up to her clitoris, brushing it lightly. She gasped and groaned.

“Tell me you want me,” he said, blowing on her to fan the flames. “Tell me that I’m the only one you want.”

“I want you, Harry,” she sighed without hesitation, her thighs trembling, her hand squeezing her breast tighter. “God, how I want you.”

It was all he needed to hear. He should have asked for more, asked for a promise of forever, but the pressure of need building within him was too much. He closed his mouth over her, sliding his fingers back into her wetness and stroking her. She gasped and cried, and within moments burst into a powerful orgasm that squeezed and pulled at him.

He couldn’t wait another second. With fumbling hands, he undid his trousers, freeing his hard, aching cock, and lifting himself above her. He was past the point of stopping to consider whether this was what she wanted or measuring the pace with which he took her. With a demanding thrust, he sank into her, pushing past a split-second of resistance to bury himself deep within her.

She gasped and clutched at him, her legs moving to circle him, begging for more. The heat and wetness of her as she sheathed him, still shuddering from orgasm, pushed him even farther beyond the point of no return. He thrust into her over and over, each moment that he was joined with her making the bond between them stronger. It felt as though every last drop of pleasure in the world was pooling in his groin, and as sweat broke over his whole body and his vision narrowed to see nothing but her writhing in ecstasy beneath him, he came with a shattering force.

It was as though light and love itself swallowed him, emptying him of every drop of his essence. It poured into her, filling her even as she milked him dry. Everything he was was hers now, and as the fury of passion subsided, the pulsing glow of the love he felt for her burned brighter. It spread outward from his heart, consuming him and encompassing her with it. He relaxed, spent, on top of her, still lodged firmly within her. Better still, her legs and arms remained tight around him as the two of them lay together, panting and overcome. He could have flattered himself and said that no man would ever make Ginny feel the way he’d just made her feel, but the truth was far more potent. He would never be able to love or give himself to another woman now. Not after her.