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*****

SHERRY:

"I am not fucking fired, Harry," I huff as I wrestle his good hand back against his pillow. "Take it back! I'm not fired! Say it, Harry!"

Our eyes meet briefly and his smile fades. Good. He needs to—

Harry's good arm quickly pulls me in and his lips are on mine in a desperate kiss. My senses are overwhelmed in such a way that the only thing I can do is respond. He deftly parts my lips with his tongue, and despite the current situation, I do not consider stopping him. His tongue fills my mouth and I suck on it, crawling into his bed to accept his hungry kiss. My hands lightly stroke his cheeks, and then drop to his neck before finally sliding around beneath his long hair.

A muffled moan escapes Harry's lips and he pulls back. Breathless, he says, "I've missed you."

*****

SHERRY

His words accelerate both my heartbeat and the pulsing in my vagina. Harry's gaze is pained and passionate, and it appears he is fighting an internal battle of which he is not the victor.

"Harry?" My mind races with questions concerning Paige's visit and my firing, but I'm not sure if this is the time.

Harry glances down, watching his fingertips kneading the hem of my t-shirt.

He's quiet as I put my hand over his, but he spreads his fingers so I can slide mine inbetween.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask.

"No . . . yes . . . I don't know." There is a lost sound to his voice that it pains me to bear witness to.

"Do you wanna make out some more?" I ask, biting my lip.

Harry looks at me wide-eyed, and I see a hint of a grin before his eyes cast downward in . . . avoidance? How can this be after such desperate kisses?

I touch his cheek, lifting his face so I can look at him, but his eyes remain closed. I place feather-light kisses on his forehead, his nose, and his cheeks.

Suddenly his lips are on mine again, this time slow and searching. There is an anguish in his kiss that he pushes past as his soft lips consume mine, nibbling hungrily. My mouth opens in a moan and Harry wastes no time pushing his tongue between my lips to circle mine in a strong rhythm. His kiss is dominating, and I am all too willing to submit.

His hand slides beneath the bottom of my t-shirt easily, fingertips drift across my stomach before moving to my side, gently squeezing into my flesh. He's strong and eager, his right hand functioning remarkably well despite his broken arm. I guess tits can provide quite the motivation.

Harry drags his tongue along my jaw line to my ear, tugging on my lobe with his soft lips. My fingers are so deep in his hair I wonder if I'll ever find my way out, as his hands slide up to my breasts and squeeze them firmly in ownership. His warm mouth nips and bites at my neck, leaving my skin wet and then licking it away with a soft tongue. Fuck.

My desire for more kisses is overpowering, and I palm his cheeks to bring him back to my lips. "Harry," I breathe his name softly in want as my eyes flutter open to meet his, which are red and glassy with tears. My thumb strokes his cheek as he hesitates.

"I'm not ready to let you go yet," Harry confesses. Blinking back tears, "I should, but I can't."

"Why would you have to let me go? I'm here to take care of you. On one level, it's my job, but beyond that we're friends, and . . . I don't know what we are, really. I thought we were kind of figuring that out?"

Harry is silent and a sweeping realization washes over me. "Did you get back together with Paige?"

"What?" His nose wrinkles. "No. I am not remotely interested in Paige, but she did say a few things the other day that I've been thinking about." Harry takes a deep breath before he continues, "Sherry, I'm not my normal self right now in so many ways. Emotionally as well as physically. I mean, look at me. What do I really have to offer you?" He searches my face for an answer, struggling to hide the glimmer of hope in his eyes.

Oh, baby. What did she say to you?

"Harry," I take his hand in mine, fiddling with his fingers. "It's easy to think of only the bad things and get sucked into your own head. Don't overthink. Look, right now you're physically at your worst, but the good thing is from here you can only get better. How much longer til you get the cast off your arm?"

"Three weeks. And they'll do new scans on my back then too."

"See? Once your arm is functional, you'll have more mobility. You'll be zipping around in a wheelchair wreaking havoc in no time," I laugh. "You'll feel more independent once that happens."

"But there's still so much other stuff. I just—"

I put my finger to his lips to shush him. "Just focus on one thing at a time, Harry. Don't make it hard for yourself. Unless . . . unless you don't want me to stay."

"Of course I want you to stay," Harry pulls me closer, but the look of concern hasn't left his face. "I just don't want to waste your time, or annoy you with neediness. I don't want to get so attached to you that I'm destroyed when you leave."

"Silly boy. I would never leave you because of your situation. You'd have to be, like, an asshole or a cheater or something. And regarding what you have to offer? Well, your kisses are fucking incredible. I mean, my Monday panties are definitely compromised."

There's that megawatt smile. "No kidding? Show me." His hand moves to my waist as my temperature skyrockets.

"I'm not showing you shit. You tried to fire me. What the fuck, Harry!?"

"Okay, okay," he relents. "You're not fired."

"You're damn right I'm not fired. Fuck."

"Such a dirty mouth for such a beautiful girl," his fingertips brush lightly over my lips.

"Yeah, well there's gonna come a time when you like that," I tease.

"Do you like it?" Harry raises his eyebrows.

"Dirty talk?" I verify, imagining things he might say in the thick of it. "Maybe . . ."

A soft groan falls from Harry's lips as his mouth finds mine once again.