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"Just because you've been sleeping with me, doesn't mean you know me," I snap.
His entire body tenses and his brows draw are downward by his frown. but all I can see in his eyes is hurt.
Hurt that I put there.
My stomach clenches. “Harry, please…”
"Is sleeping together all you remember us doing for the last three weeks? Do you have amnesia?" His sarcasm stings.
“Harry, please. Let’s not do this,” I plead and I wrap an arm around his waist. I want to rewind the last ten minutes.
I’d lie. I’d say whatever he wanted me to if we could just be back in bed, enjoying each other instead of having an argument that neither of us can win.
He pulls my arms off his waist and steps away from me. “You can insult yourself all you want, but you won't fucking insult me.”
I stand there, and watch helplessly as the fire I’ve been playing starts to burn out of control. The flames of ruin lick at me. This bridge is burning.
"I have feelings for you." He says this quietly, regretfully.
I should tell him that this won’t end well. That he shouldn’t have feelings for me because I don’t have more than my body to give him. But those are lies. I may not be able to give him more, but it’s not because I don’t want to.
So, I tell Harry the truth. I cup his hands in my face and whisper, “Me, too.” Right before I start to press lingering, clinging kisses to his mouth.
His fingers thread into my hair slowly. Without warning, he grips a handful of it and pulls my head back. He scatters kisses down my neck, across my collar bone and nips my shoulder. My head lolls, and I suck my lower lip into my mouth and whimper when his tongue swirls into the hollow at the base of my neck.
"I don’t want this to be goodbye," he whispers against my throat as my hands wind around his neck to hold him close.
Moments like this one are ones that most people only ever dream of.
The tacit connection, the way our paths crossed, our physical chemistry - all of it feels so rare, beautiful and completely impossible to predict or tame.
And right now, it refuses to be denied.
When he lays me back down on the bed, he asks me what I want.
“Everything,” I answer.
“Okay, baby, ” he says before he slips inside of me. As we make l
ove, I wish that I could rearrange the universe as easily as his teeth and tongue could say those word. Because I want to live in a world where this amazing man could be mine.
I will never experience anything as magnificent as the way he has adored me. It’s like the sun shining on the darkest parts of my insides, disinfecting and cleansing.
But, there are some stains that nothing can remove. And the one on my soul is one of those.
I bury my face in his neck and fuck Harry like I’m never going to see him again.
"I'll be back in the morning," I whisper into Harry’s broad, hard chest. I press my nose into the fabric of his shirt, praying that I won't forget his clean mint and clover scent. We're standing outside his hotel. Ken's waiting in the car, and every few seconds he sticks his head out of the window and coughs anxiously. We have to stop for Porsha, and there isn’t much time to do that and get home before her mother wakes up to find us gone.
"Okay. My flight's not until the evening, so we'll have all day," he says, and my heart squeezes painfully. I tip my head up and raise a little to press a kiss to his mouth.
"Thank you for tonight. It was amazing," I whisper against his mouth when I make myself pull away.
"It was. I can't wait to do it again. We'll figure things out tomorrow. Okay?"
"Okay," I whisper, and we walk to the car. Ken is s parked under one of the fluorescent lights that dot the hotel's parking lot. Suddenly self-conscious, I run my hand over my hair and down my face. I must look a fright in the harsh, artificial light.
"You look beautiful," he says, as if reading my mind, and I look up at him.
