Page 39 of Tangled Desires

He tilts his head, eyes glinting. “You think you’re all smart, huh?”

“I know I am,” I snap, narrowing my eyes, daring him to say more. Suddenly, he yanks the door open and pulls me forward, smearing mud all over me. I squeal, half-laughing, half-disgusted.

“Ughhh. What the fuck, Harrison? You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

His smirk spreads, hand tightening on my waist as he leans in. “And you love every second of it.”

“Not even close,” I shoot back. But his gaze—mud dripping off his jaw, those dark eyes daring me—has my heart thudding in my chest.

“You sure about that?” He raises an eyebrow, daring me to say something. His hands stay on my hips, pulling me closer until our bodies are flush, heat bleeding through the muck. I tilt my chin up, trying to stay defiant.

“You’re a fucking caveman.”

“Maybe,” he growls. It’s that low, teasing tone, and fuck, it makes my stomach tighten. “But I think you like it.”

I open my mouth to snap back, but before I can get the words out, his lips crash into mine. Hard. Hungry. It’s like he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as I have. His hand drags me against him, the heat of his body burning through the mess of mud. I gasp, and he takes advantage, his tongue sliding against mine, rough and greedy. My fingers grip his shirt, slipping on the mud, but I hold on tight.

Nothing else matters—just the feel of him, the press of his lips, the fire between us.

The kiss is wild—frustration, want, and everything between us crashing together. His low groan rumbles against me, mixing with my breathless whimpers. His hand grabs my hair, pulling just enough to send a jolt of heat down my spine, and I moan, my resolve crumbling. He takes advantage, deepening the kiss like he’s marking me. I bite his lip, and he growls, gripping me harder, one hand sliding lower, daring me to fight back. But I don’t. I can’t. I’m lost—lost in him, in the heat, the mess. The mud, the damn kangaroo—they all disappear. It’s just us, tangled in desire, the tension finally snapping. A car horn blares, and we jerk apart.

Gasping for air, I whip around to see Xavier’s ute rolling up, his window down, eyes wide.

“What the fuck happened?” he yells. Harrison steps away, still catching his breath, wiping mud from his face.

“A fucking roo, that’s what happened,” Harrison calls back. “Car got bogged down, but we’re all good.” I scramble back into the passenger seat, heart racing, fingers fumbling for my phone. The screen lights up with a text.

Isla:Well, that looked cosy.

My stomach does a fucking backflip.

Me:Shut up. You saw nothing. No idea what you’re talking about.

I send it off, glancing at Harrison, who’s chatting with Xavier. Isla doesn’t take long to reply.

Isla:Please. You can’t fool me, Midge. You’ve already fucked, clearly, so why the shyness now?

Isla:Who cares?

I groan, typing a single shushing face emoji. Isla responds instantly with a ‘Haha’ tapback, and I can practically hear her fucking cackling.

Harrison climbs back into the driver’s seat, wiping his hands on his shirt, covered in dried mud. Not a word as he starts the car, but the look he shoots me says it all—this isn’t over.

My stomach tightens—not with excitement this time, but something heavier. Like all the shit between us just sank straight into my gut. As the car jerks forward, rolling smoothly now that we’re free, I stare out the window, trying to shake it. I swallow hard, but it doesn’t do a damn thing. It’s not the baby making me sick this time.

12

12 weeks

The smell of cleaning products and too much hand sanitiser fills the air of the doctor’s clinic.

I watch Harrison out of the corner of my eye, noting the way his knee bounces erratically and how his hands keep fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. It’s like a constant wave of nervous energy rolling off him. Without thinking, I place my hand on his knee, and he stills instantly.

The shift is subtle, but I can feel the tension in his muscles ease beneath my touch.

“Imogen Whitley?”

Harrison’s on his feet in an instant, and my hand falls to my side. Wordlessly, I follow him into the room, nerves buzzing under my skin. The receptionist offers a polite smile.