Free Magenta Mine: An Invertary Novella by janet elizabeth henderson Page A

smell like freaking Christmas? Did he bathe in mulled wine? It made her want to lick him and taste him. Maybe lying next to Harry wasn’t such a great idea after all.
    Harry’s laughter vibrated through her body before she heard it. “You’ll never get to sleep if you don’t relax.”
    “How am I supposed to relax when you’re this close to me, genius? This doesn’t exactly feel natural. I’m not used to touching you like this.”
    “We used to cuddle all the time when we were kids.”
    Her cheeks heated at the thought. She’d spent many an evening curled up against Harry watching Star Trek on his bedroom TV.
    “It isn’t the same. You’re about twice the size and you’re a whole lot firmer. Hotter too.”
    “You think I’m hot?”
    She heard the grin in his voice and rolled her eyes. “I meant body heat. Not attractiveness.”
    “Whatever you want to believe.”
    She frowned as she wriggled against him, trying to get the perfect comfy place to sleep. She suspected that position might be her splayed on top of him.
    “Lie still.”
    “I’m trying. This is weird. I can’t help that it’s freaking me out.”
    He sighed. “What would make it un-weird?”
    “Is un-weird even a word?”
    “Magenta.” It was a warning.
    “Nothing,” she said. “Nothing will make it less weird, not until I get used to being near you like this.”
    His body tensed for a moment. “You’re telling me that you need to become more familiar with me in order to sleep?”
    “Yeah.” She resisted the urge to pummel his shoulder much like she’d pummelled her makeshift pillow. This wasn’t going to work. She wriggled in an attempt to get out of his hold.
    “Stop that,” he ordered. Seriously, the guy needed to get over his ruler-of-the-world mentality. She opened her mouth to tell him so.
    “If getting used to me will help you relax,” he said, “then that’s something I can help with.”
    She heard it in his words—a low, rumbling sensuality that made her blood fizz with excitement. She stilled, going over the conversation in her head to see what she’d missed. Harry’s arm stayed tight around her waist as he turned towards her.
    “By the time I’m finished you’ll be so comfortable around me, you won’t even notice I’m here.”
    “Harry?” She hated that she sounded more breathless than confused.
    He moved over her in the pitch-blackness. She felt his face at the curve of her neck. “It’s all about familiarity.” He trailed his nose up her skin, breathing deeply. A low growl of approval. “You had no problem sleeping around me years ago. Remember, we’d sit on the hill not far from here? You’d put your head on my knee while I worked on my laptop.” She remembered. He’d been fifteen. She’d been twelve and falling in love for the first time—for the only time—with her best friend.
    His breath against her ear made her shudder, and she found herself clinging to Harry’s shoulders, her nails digging in. She willed her fingers to uncurl, but they wouldn’t. They couldn’t. “I’d stroke your hair,” he whispered. “It was longer then, the colour of manuka honey. And soft.” She felt his fingers in her hair at the back of her head. “I’ve never felt anything softer.” His body was over hers, pressing against her. A heavy blanket that made her quiver with sensation.
    “I like it black too.” She couldn’t see him. Only feel him, which somehow made each touch more electric. “It would look even sexier with a hint of blue. Yeah,” he said, his fingers twirling a lock of her hair. She knew he couldn’t see her any better than she could see him, but she could tell by the way he spoke that he had a picture in his head. “Blue, not pink. Blue-tipped hair, blue silk dress. Ankle length, sleek. No frills, just like you. Thin straps so I can see your shoulders.” Gentle fingers trailed over her shoulder, pushing the wide-necked tee along with it until her skin was exposed. Harry curved a