Get ready for a delightful romp through the picturesque Scottish countryside with Anna McInroy and the charming Harry Styles in Susan Elizabeth Phillips' latest heartwarming tale.
Anna, a determined veterinarian, is determined to break free from her father's shadow and establish her own practice. Meanwhile, Harry, a free-spirited popstar and house-sitter, is enjoying life without any strings attached.
When fate brings them together for a passionate month-long affair, sparks fly and their lives are forever changed. Little do they know that the mystical Luckenbooth, with its intertwined hearts and crown, has a plan of its own for their future.
As they part ways and return to their separate lives, destiny begins to weave its magic, pulling them back together in the most unexpected ways. With humor, warmth, and a touch of enchantment, WhoopsHarryStyles takes us on a journey where love, laughter, and the mystical power of the Luckenbooth intertwine to create a future they never saw coming. Prepare to be swept off your feet in this delightful romance that will leave you believing in the extraordinary power of love.
The sky is the bluest it’s been in months, and I hear birds singing from the trees surrounding the private course. My clubs have been unused for far too long, and I cannot wait to feel the grass beneath my feet. Spying my grandparents talking to a young man who I assume is the club’s pro, I make my way in their direction, eager to get onto the green. The giddy skip in my step is undeniably partly due to the excitement of playing the game again, but mostly because I’ve not seen my jetsetter grandparents since Christmas.
“Grammy! Gramps!” I call, my hand waving as they turn towards me. Wrapping my grandmother in a hug, I put out my hand for a high five with my grandfather. Gleefully, he obliges.
“So glad you could join us!” Grammy whoops. “Let me look at you.” Taking my hands, she steps back to survey me in that way that must be a full chapter in the Grandparent Training Manual. “Looking sexy as hell,” she laughs, her greeting likely not in that same manual. “Twirl for us.” She makes that motion with her finger, and I oblige.
As I spin around, my skort not moving in any way that would make a twirl necessary, my grandfather applauds as if I were a five year old at her first ballet recital.
“Two of the biggest dorks I know,” I giggle. “I’m so happy to see you!” Excitedly, I pull them in for a group hug, wondering why the golf pro hasn’t excused himself yet. So when I step back, I pointedly look in his direction.
And promptly freeze.
Fuck. Nope. Not the golf pro. Nor the course manager. Not anyone who works at the place.
“Hi. I’m Harry.” He leans forward to shake my hand, his left leg raising behind him as a counterbalance to his inclining body. “You must be Birdy.”
Horrified, I grasp his warm hand, my eyes roaming over his face with that stupid hair clip firmly holding back his bangs and his green eyes examining me, a smile on his face as his dimple deepens. Flustered, I don’t give him my birth name. “A nickname, of course,” I remark inanely.
“I’m just hoping it doesn’t bode ill for my game today.” His gray pants are matched with a dark blue pullover sweater, a white turtleneck underneath.
How my mouth continues to work is beyond me, but I throw my head back and laugh loudly. Probably too loudly as I’m feeling a mixture of terror and arousal, and the laughter is decidedly nervous. “I’ve never been a threat to anyone on the golf course,” I comment.
“With grandparents as young as yours, I expected someone younger.” Harry thinks he’s being coy, but my grandmother responds honestly.
“We’re ancient, Harry, and our Birdie is 31 now. And not getting any younger.” Pointedly, she looks at me as though I had offended her in some way.
“We’re up,” Gramps points, and we haul our clubs to the first tee.
“What’s your handicap?” Harry asks as Gramps swings a few times for practice.
“23,” I announce proudly, on the low end of average. “You?”
“14,” he brags, adding a wink for good measure, an indication that he is aware of his boast. Not that I can complain since I’ve also gloated about my below-average number. He’s too handsome and charming for my comfort, and I engage my attention on my clubs, polishing my driver before withdrawing it from my bag.
Amiable enough, Harry diverts his focus onto my grandmother, and I’m grateful for the respite to catch my breath.
“You must go first, Vivienne.”
I want to interrupt and tell him we always go with the oldest first, which is my gramps, but my grandmother has already fallen for Harry’s charm, and she giggles like a schoolgirl as she makes her way to the tee.
After my grandfather and I have each teed off, Harry prepares for his turn. In those tight golf trousers, his arse is as well defined as the ostentatious naked statue in the fountain at the entrance to the golf club. I find myself unable to stop staring as he bends down to place his tee, and his form when he swings is a thing of beauty. No wonder he has a low handicap. Why couldn’t he be a failure at just one thing in his life? And why couldn’t it be golf?
Noting where his ball lands, Harry removes his sunnies from the vee of his sweater and slides them over his eyes, shielding his expression. With a nod at the three of us, he twists his body, ready to move on.
“Shall we?” Gramps gestures, and I hoist my clubs onto my shoulder again, setting off behind the elderly couple who head for a single golf cart. “Sorry, Birdy.” He casually throws over his shoulder as we approach the small vehicle. “We got the last cart. You and Harry will have to walk. But don’t worry. Your grandmother and I will do our best not to burn rubber.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if my grandparents were trying to play matchmakers. But they wouldn’t have any idea who Harry is. Although maybe it doesn’t matter to them. Perhaps my grandparents just want to pair me up with any Tom, Dick, or ….Harry.
“Mhm. See that you don’t get a speeding ticket, Gramps!” I yell as they take off, leaving Harry and I trailing behind.
“You seem like a chip off the old block,” Harry jokes as we hike towards the hole. “Get it? Cause a chip is a golf shot.”
“Oh, I understood the joke, but it was bad,” I groan. “No ifs, ands, or putts about it.”
His eyes widen. “I see. It’s like that, is it?”
We both giggle, and when he shoves my shoulder at my next golf pun, I wonder if he’s flirting with me. As if Harry Styles needed to flirt with anyone.
It’s on the fourth fairway that my Gramps gets involved with a joke of his own. “Hey, Harry?”
“Yes, sir?” The polite reply comes as I’m replacing my divot.
“Why do the golf pros tell you to keep your head down during golf lessons?”
“I don’t know, Rufus.” Harry withdraws his 3-wood and addresses the ball, shaking his hips in such a way that if my grandparents weren’t around, I’d probably faint. “Why?”
“So you can’t see them laughing.” Gramps guffaws, and Harry shakes his head, the corners of his mouth tilted up as he takes a deep breath and launches his ball closer to the green.
My grandparents always make me laugh, but today they seem in finer form than usual, as they joke with Harry, my grandmother clearly vamping. Before today, I’ve never wondered if my grandfather was anything other than straight, but the way he touches Harry at every opportunity makes the wheels in my head churn.
On the 8th hole, Grammy takes a mulligan after her ball sails into the water hazard, just short of making it across. She sighs, pulling another ball from her bag and muttering goodnaturedly to Harry. “Golf balls are just like eggs. They’re white, round, and you need another dozen every week.”
Harry slaps his knee as he giggles at her pathetic joke. I can almost convince myself that he’s having the time of his life playing golf with these 78-year-olds. He gives every appearance of enjoying the late afternoon game. No wonder no one has anything unkind to say about him. Well, no one he’s met anyway.
As we walk to the 9th hole, I decide to dive in and bravely ask the question that’s been on my mind for the last two and a half hours. “Why did you join us today?”
Startled, he twists his head to look at me. “You had three. I was a late single player. The pro added me to your party. Simple.”
“Okay.” I draw the word out, wondering if I should ask the follow-up question, and when he continues glancing at me curiously, I go for it. “But why do you have a free day today? And why didn’t you bring someone with you?”
He turns his head away from me, but I still see that left dimple deepen as he shrugs. “I decided on a whim that I wanted to golf in this perfect weather, and my manager was busy preparing for tomorrow night’s show.” Turning around, he walks backwards so he can face me. “But I never thought I’d meet such a fun –” his eyes never leave mine, “and sexy companion.”
I can feel the red creeping up from my toes through my body to flush my face. How does he do it? Flirting so openly without being gross? If anyone else had delivered that line, I would have gagged. Instead, I pretend that his comment has had no effect on me – like I’m not going to need dry panties before dinner with my grandparents.
“Harry!” My grandfather yells from where he and my grammy have stopped at my ball. “You better watch where you’re going! Sometimes people don’t replace their divots.”
The musician nods to me courteously as though he hadn’t just made my heart flutter. Turning to face forward, he continues on the pathway where we finish the 9th hole.
“Birdie,” Grammy stoutly announces to me as she climbs back into the cart. “Your grandfather and I are tired. We’re going to head to the clubhouse and have a drink, but you and Harry should play the back nine.” With that, my grandparents wave to us as their cart drives off towards the start.
Oh.
Well.
That was unexpected.
This is unexpected.
Harry has put his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels. “Well?” He watches me carefully, and I know the decision to continue is mine.
“I doubt I’ll get to play with someone like you again, so we might as well continue.”
“Someone like me? A celebrity?” Seeming genuinely confused, he removes his sunnies and scratches his head near that damn hair clip.
“A duffer,” I tease.
“If that’s the case, it’s because your beauty has distracted me from my game today.” His eyes twinkle when he makes the comment, and that’s the moment I know the flirting is on in earnest.
When we reach the 12th green, I can’t stand being so close to him without letting him know I am up for more. As he squares up for his putt, but before he pulls the club back to take the shot, I whisper loud enough for his ears only, “If you miss this putt, I’ll let you kiss me.” He doesn’t hesitate, taking the shot that rolls right at my feet where I’m holding the flag. And yet somehow the ball doesn’t go in.
“Does that deal count if I accidentally missed?”
Biting my lip, I tilt my head and observe him. “Hmmm…I’m not sure. It’s kind of offensive that you wouldn’t want to miss it on purpose. I mean, here I am, perfectly kissable. I’m going to say no. It doesn’t count.”
Stalking towards me, he picks up his golf ball and tosses it to the edge of the green. “How about now?” His voice is a growl, and he’s standing close enough for me to feel the heat emanating from his body.
Fuck. He’s so hot. Beyond sexy.
I glance around the course quickly to see if anyone is nearby. Spotting no one, I tilt my head up to him. Harry grabs my chin with two fingers, staring into my eyes before he brushes his lips over mine. The moan that emits from my throat is heartfelt and demands more from him, but he steps back, his hand dropping to his side.
Hooded eyes rake over me, and he smirks. “You’ve never met a golfer with a more delicate stroke than me.”
“Promises, promises,” I tut, holding out the flag for him to take so I can putt.
A few holes later, and all pretense has dropped as Harry rests his hands on my hips while I’m lining up my shot. “Are you sure you know how to hold a shaft correctly?” His voice in my ear is so gravelly that I want to drop onto my knees right there on the fairway and show him exactly how skilled I am at handling a shaft.
“Be careful there, Harry,” I murmur, “You’re like a water hazard. You’ve got me soaking wet.”
“Fuck.” Stepping back from me, he shakes his head. “How many holes?”
“Three,” I comment, and my eyes bat of their own accord, I swear!
“Jesus!” He runs his hand over his face. “You’re like a fairway: short, well-groomed, and a pleasure to hit on.”
“Are you saying you’d like to improve our stroke game together?”
“I’m saying that I’m not going to make it back to the clubhouse at this rate.”
“Well…” I approach him, again searching the nearby greens for golfers, “...my golf coach says I have a firm grip. Do you want to see if it’s true?”
“Birdy…” His voice is strangled as I ease my hand over the front of his trousers, feeling his length where it’s tucked safely high and to the left. The air exits his lungs at a faster velocity than a golf swing. “Get your clubs,” he commands, roughly replacing the putter he’d withdrawn and grabbing my hand.
Yanking me behind him, Harry leads the way towards the parking lot where he uses an electronic key to open the vehicle and throw in his clubs before grabbing my golf bag and more gently placing it on top of his so that the two golf bags look to be spooning.
“Get in,” he insists, and I don’t hesitate to scurry to the passenger side.
“Where are we going?” I ask, my hands in my lap after I’ve buckled the seatbelt. The quivering in the lower part of my body will only be appeased in one way.
“Shit. I’ve no idea,” he sighs, not putting the car in drive. “My hotel is too far.”
“Switch places with me,” I suggest, knowing exactly where we can go.
With a single nod, the two of us climb from the vehicle and pass each other silently and aggressively on our way to opposite sides. Buckled in, I back the car from the lot and drive the two miles to my grandparents’ house.
“I cannot believe I’m doing this,” I state. “Open the garage before the neighbors spot us.” I share the code, and Harry follows my directions. Without drawing too much attention, we’ve sequestered ourselves in the garage, with Harry waiting impatiently for me to get out of the car.
The moment I step from the driver’s side onto the pavement of my grandparents’ garage, Harry approaches me, his hands cupping my face as he devours my lips. I do not hesitate, opening to him as my fingers fumble for the bottom of that fucking blue sweater I’ve been jealous of all afternoon because it gets to hug his curves. As I draw the sweater up, he releases my face to raise his arms over his head, and I don’t hesitate, repeating the gesture with his white turtleneck.
As soon as his skin is free from the clothing, his mouth crashes back onto mine as his long lush fingers make short work of my white polo. He’s backed me almost to the stairs that lead to the house, and he wraps an arm around my nearly naked back just as I’m about to topple over onto them.
“Where?” His breath is scented with the mint from his gum, and I feel the waft of it across my cheek.
My brain scrambles. My grandparents’ house. Quickly I discard the master bedroom and the sofa in the living room. Grasping his hand, I haul us both to the only room that makes sense. Stopping to frantically kiss this amazing man, I reach behind me to unhook my bra, his fingers brushing over my boobs as soon as they are bare.
When I open the door to our destination, Harry pauses, his eyes widening as he takes in the golf trophies, photos of my grandparents with famous golfers on the paneled walls, and the putting green. Shaking his head, he laughs, and the crinkles at his eyes make my panties even wetter.
“I like my men like a sand trap: dirty, challenging, and unpredictable.” Although I’ve attempted to make the joke with a straight face, I fail miserably as I dissolve into giggles.
With a face palm, Harry laughs too, glancing at the putting green. “No way am I fucking on that fake turf. One of us would end up with scraped knees, and I don’t know if I would prefer it be you or me.”
“No question there,” I purr as I drop to my knees in front of him and reach for the button and zipper on his trousers. “I’ve been drooling for this shaft all afternoon.”
“Well, I am known for my lengthy club.” The smirk on his face drops away as I free his cock and give it a few strokes before sliding my lips over the end and applying light pressure. Pushing his pants and underpants down his thighs, I reach for his balls. “Oh, fuck,” he sucks in air. “I had planned to wash my balls after the game today, but you’re welcome to….ahhhhhh.” The way the sound escapes his mouth when I do as he suggests and lave his balls with my tongue has me hotter than a July game at a Miami course.
Returning to his cock, I slide his length as far as my throat will allow, practically unhinging my jaw as I take him in. Closing my lips, I use suction until he grabs my head, pulling my hair to remove me from my current activity.
When I look up at him, I can see the scar under his chin as he’s staring at the ceiling. He takes a deep breath, and I cannot resist scraping my teeth lightly to see his reaction. It’s instant, as his jaw drops and his eyes connect with mine. Just as I get to the end of his cock again, I make a humming sound, knowing he can feel the vibration on this sensitive body part.
“Birdy…” he gasps. “I need…”
Releasing him with a popping sound, I sit back on my knees and grin, rather proud of my ability to reduce this cheeky flirt to two-word sentences.
“What?” I demand.
“I need to feel your fringe. Taste it even.”
Closing my eyes, I shake my head as though I’m disappointed with his golf pun, but it honestly gives a zing to my private parts.
“Fair enough,” I comment, using my current location to remove his shoes and the rest of his clothing so that he stands before me, naked but for his socks.
“Shouldn’t that be ‘fairway’ enough?” He giggles, his shaft pointing straight at me.
I groan. “Oh, man. If I weren’t so hot for you, your bad jokes might just turn me off.”
“Good,” he smiles, and the dimple deepens until I’m confident I could fit a thousand golf balls, each with their own 381 dimples, inside it. That many dimples all in the same space would be overwhelming. “Now let’s put my wood in your golf bag, shall we?” He holds his hand down to me, and I grasp it so that he can pull me upwards, our tongues tangling like a dust devil.
Fingers fumbling with the buttons on my skort, Harry moves his lips to my neck. “Why ‘Birdy’?”
“Seriously?” I scoff. “You want to talk about my nickname now?”
His luxurious fingers shove my panties and my skort down to my ankles, ignoring my shoes completely as he encourages me to kick off the offending clothing. “Yes please.”
Nude, I plant my hands on my hips, glaring at him from where he’s squatting on the floor after removing my outfit. “My grandfather scored a birdie every time he took me out with him on the golf course when I was a baby.”
“Oh,” he pouts.
“Not as sexy as you thought it might be?”
“As a story, you really should work on it.”
“I promise I’ll spice up the story with the next single that joins our foursome,” I simper. A look crosses his face that could be construed as jealousy if one were so inclined. Which I’m not. Because he’s just an afternoon fuck.
As I start to step past him to the leather sofa, he grabs my thighs and buries his face in my crotch, sniffing deeply. Flabbergasted, I pause, my balance off.
“Widen your stance,” Harry demands, and when I follow his direction, he uses both hands to part the petals at my entrance. Just before his tongue dives in, he blows a puff of air, and I shiver at the sexiness of the move.
“Fuck, Harry,” I grab for his shoulder so I don’t sink to the floor. Between his tongue and his teeth, I nearly tip over the abyss, but when he uses both hands, inserting one finger in each of my body’s lower entrances, I come, screaming his name as I yank his hair, accidentally dislodging that damn hair clip which skitters across the wood floor. My orgasm continues as Harry rises, one finger still teasing my clit.
“You were right,” he whispers to me as I gaze at his glistening face, “three holes left. Now taken care of.” Capturing my lips, he delves inside my mouth, his tongue and finger below taking turns, setting a rhythm that would do well in one of his songs.
Fuck. I’m weak.
When my body stops shivering, I use both hands to shove him onto the sofa where he lands with both feet out and his driver in the air.
“Birth control?” he asks.
“Taken care of,” I grin. “IUD. But if you want double protection or you don’t trust me…” I gesture towards the rest of the house, trying to figure out where a condom might be hidden in my grandparents’ house.
“I trust you. No one with that nickname and those grandparents could lie about something like that.”
With a grin, I concede his point. Besides, my grandparents would flip their lids if I got pregnant without a commitment.
Slowly, as if I’m lining up a putt, I slide onto him.
“Mmmmm…that’s a hole to be respected,” Harry murmurs as I descend, and I would laugh if not for the fact that I’m gearing up for my second orgasm.
“Are you up for some stroke play?” I query as I settle completely on him, my insides stretched but happy.
“Stroke that stroke, babe.”
With the steady beat of that Billie Squier oldie in my head, I follow his instructions, lifting myself off his shaft before plunging back down as hard as I can. Just when I’m getting closer, panting as I look to the skies, Harry taps my butt cheek. “Turn around here, love.”
Settling on the sofa with my rear in the air, I am startled when Harry’s finger circles my asshole, and I wonder if I’m in for a different experience than I had originally expected. He’s too big for my back door without a lot of preparation, and it’s clear he knows it as he settles on wedging a finger there while his cock invades my vagina. Between his cock and his inserted finger, I’m so close to exploding that I slam my body backwards into his until he finally removes the finger, grabs my hips, and pounds into me.
“Drive into me, Harry!” I scream, recognizing the golf pun after it’s already left my mouth. Biting my lip, I reach in front and play with my clit just as Harry shoots his load into me, and I writhe with my second orgasm, his name on my lips as he falls onto my back.
Seconds, minutes, decades later, Harry disengages from me.
“That was pleasant,” he smiles, and I wonder if this is it. He’ll leave me here, his cum dripping from me onto the furniture in my granddad’s golf room. “We should probably get dressed and get back to the course. Otherwise, they’ll send out a search party. If we get back quickly, they’ll think we just took our time on the 18th.”
Agreeably, I laugh. “I can see it now.” Imitating my grandma, “‘But our baby girl is out there with a handsome stranger! They must be exhausted after 18 holes!’”
Together, we dissolve into giggles at the innuendo as we sort through the discarded clothing and dress ourselves, making our way back to the garage as we locate our shirts.
“You better drive us back. I’m likely to get lost in your tall bush.”
“Oh, please,” I roll my eyes. “My grass is perfectly trimmed for the game.”
“Mhm,” he smirks, “Who’s your caddy?”
We pull into the parking lot, laughing at our ridiculous puns. Removing our golf bags from the trunk, we make our way into the clubhouse where we quickly locate and join my grandparents.
“How were the last few holes?” Gramps asks.
“Pretty good,” Harry grins, glancing over at me. “I got both a Birdy and a hole in one.”
I want to laugh at his comment, but any suggestion that we did anything other than play golf would get me in trouble, so I simply smile, nod, and announce, “It was quite the round. The best I’ve had in a long time, by par.”
When everyone at the table howls with mirth, I feel Harry’s hand on my knee as my grandfather speaks up with, “Harry? I think you might be missing a number on your scorecard.” When he winks and gestures towards me, I groan, but my latest lover takes advantage of the moment, holding out his scorecard to me.
“If you wouldn’t mind…I might need another hole in one the next time I come to town.”
OFC character x Harry || AU || Bartender Harry
Rating: +18
Warnings: Mental health (anxiety), angst, explicit sexual content and explicit language.
Chapter 7: 9,7k words
A/N: please be gentle with me, it took me a long time to convince myself I should post this one lol
MASTERLIST
On Sundays, Lia usually spent most of her mornings in bed. She liked to have breakfast sitting by the window and entertain her mind with a book, or journal her thoughts away, or relax herself with some knitting.
Whatever she chose to do, it never lasted longer than a couple of hours. Then, she would take a shower and get comfortably ready for the rest of the day.
After lunch, she always forced herself to do the dishes right away, followed by doing any chores that could've been left from the day before (Saturdays were exclusive for all of her domestic duties, by the way). Once her place looked all tidied up and pretty, she would sit on the floor, in between the couch and the coffee table, put some comfort tv show to play in the background, and go over all of her lesson plans for the five days of the week ahead.
That routine not only kept her motivated to start a new week, but it also highly reduced her anxiety, so she held onto it tightly. If for some reason one weekend she did something different — like going back to her parents, or seeing her friends — she'd learned to plan herself in advance and make sure to find some other time to, somehow, still do all that. Which is why her weekly planner had become her best friend, along with her calendar and her task lists. They helped her to live her days without the feeling of being constantly running behind, or late, or forgetting about something.
Nothing digital, though. No. Lia was a huge fan of paper, of holding a pen and scribbling down on notebooks.
In the past, Cole had tried — and tried, and tried, and tried — to get her into digital planning. He'd even shared his own google calendar with her, and encouraged her to use matching color shades when creating her own appointments.
And, to be fair, Lia had tried as well. She had followed every advice and restarted several times, in each one of them convincing herself that she would try harder than the last. She liked the idea of it, to be honest. She liked how pretty it looked, and what an organized life they had together. She could never stick to it, though. For a week or so it would work, but in the end it always felt overwhelming and restricting, so she gave up. Over and over again.
Until, of course, therapy came along. Which, if she thought about it, was silly… Why couldn't she think of notebooks and pens by herself? Why did she need to pay someone to tell her that, if digital planning didn't work for her, she could try "in the good and old fashioned paper way"?
There were many things about her therapy process that Lia didn't understand, but she was deeply thankful to it anyway. She'd managed to redefine a lot of things thanks to her therapist's patience and knowledge.
Anyway… What was the topic again?
Oh, right, Sundays.
Well, on that particular Sunday, her entire routine changed before Lia even had the chance to properly open her eyes. Waking up was hard, but probably because not even falling asleep had been an easy task in the first place. As she'd laid in bed the night before, all she could think about was Harry, and all she could do was stare at her phone and wait for Harry to text her back.
Harry, Harry, Harry.
He had asked for her number before kissing her goodbye and leaving her apartment, and he had also followed through with his promise of texting her later (a conversation that had started with him saying hello so she could have his number as well, and that had quickly turned into him sharing the many bizarre things people were ordering at the bar). He was working, though, so there were moments when he would take longer to reply.
Lia didn't mind the waiting itself, because of course she understood the context and of course she didn't expect him to stop working to give her attention, but she hated not having anything to do while waiting for him to text her back. For some reason, it made her feel insecure and childish, so she eventually let him know she was going to bed, and wished him a good rest of the night. Since that still didn't stop Lia from waiting for him to reply, she took her phone to the bathroom and left it on the counter, determined to avoid any temptation to check her screen again, and determined to fall asleep early, like she normally did.
In the morning, when she woke up with heaviness in her head and blurry eyes, there was a brief moment in which she completely forgot all about everything, and in which she tried to reach her phone on the bedside table to simply check the time. As soon as she couldn't find it, she held her body on one elbow and rubbed her eyes with her free hand, then looked around her bright bedroom and let information sink in.
Next thing she knew, her heart was racing and (although she would never tell anyone about it) she was running to the bathroom, hopeful to find a message, and also scared to not find any.
She'd grabbed her phone and groaned when the screen remained dark, even such a tiny step like adjusting the brightness getting in her way of calming the loud and rapid beat inside her chest. When she was finally able to see her notifications, her entire body froze.
She had seventeen unread messages.
17!
All from Harry.
All of them!
(11:15 pm) Harry: sorryyyy. its too crowded here
(11:15 pm) Harry: saturdays are the worst
(11:16 pm) Harry: i'm jealous tho, wish i was in bed too. have a good night, love. sweet dreams :) xx
(01:15 am) Harry: heyyyy
(01:16 am) Harry: it's me again. i just switched shifts with sage and i have the night off tomorrow so…
(01:16 am) Harry: do you have any plans? x
(01:32 am) Harry: because i would really like to take you out
(01:32 am) Harry: on a date :)
(01:44 am) Harry: how do you feel about it? x
(01:45 am) Harry: i'll probably sleep all morning
(01:45 am) Harry: but let me know if you're free
(01:49 am) Harry: and if you want to, of course
(01:49 am) Harry: it's totally ok if you dont
(01:49 am) Harry: of course
(01:52 am) Harry: sorry for the amount of texts btw haha hope i didn't wake you xx
(01:52 am) Harry: and that you're sleeping well xx
(01:53 am) Harry: good night xx (im done now. promise.)
Lia read all of them once. Then twice. And then multiple other times. They made her stomach flutter, and a stupid smile grow on her face.
That was how, later on that same Sunday afternoon, Harry ended up back at her place. Less than 24 hours after he'd left. Wearing a dark gray t-shirt, black flared pants and a striped cashmere cardigan. Noticing how nervous she was and suggesting they could stay in instead of going out. Smiling and pulling her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles when she blushed and asked if he truly wouldn't mind. Reassuring her with words, but also by taking his black vans off and making himself once again comfortable on her couch.
They ordered a pizza, and the first season of Superstore played quietly in the background while they ignored every episode and solemnly focused on each other.
Opposite from everything she'd seen at the bar so far, Harry was great at keeping the conversation going. For as long as they'd been there, he kept asking all kinds of different questions about her work and family, making sure to ask for more details when her answers remained too vague or timid. There weren't any traces of the grumpiness and annoyance she'd previously seen on him (and even received in the few times they'd directly interacted). Probably that was one of the reasons — if not the reason — why, just like the day before, and like the day before that, all of her initial hesitancy slowly but surely faded away. It was easy to tell how she went from acting shy and insecure around him, to feeling more and more at ease and casual. Especially by how physically close she got to him.
Lia wasn't sure how, but after she was done eating and while he carried on emptying the pizza box, she'd ended up with both of her legs spread across his lap and her chest almost touching his side. It was way closer than she probably needed to be, but he never complained, so she never pulled away.
"Well…" Harry said, holding her ankle with one hand and leaning his upper body over her stretched legs. "I like that. Sounds like a really nice family to be a part of."
She placed her hand on his back, holding herself while he moved. She watched as he put his empty plate on top of hers, then tossed the wrapped up napkin into the pizza box. At some point, he'd taken his cardigan off, and their proximity allowed Lia to watch every arm muscle flexing and relaxing, as well as admire the delicate traces of his many tattoos. It also allowed her to smell his strong and musk cologne, and to feel the warmth emanating from his body.
Harry really made her feel something. It wasn't just about how kind and nice his actions and words were, but it was also about how physically attracted to him she was. She had been in a serious relationship for five years, with someone she had wanted to be with — someone she'd been in love with — and yet she couldn't recall one single moment in which she'd felt so intensely and so deeply for him. Physically, at least. To the point where her mouth felt dry, her skin tingled, and her fingers twitched.
Slowly and calmly, as if he had all the time in the world, Harry returned to his previous position, relaxing against the back of the couch and gripping her knees with both hands. He turned his head to face her, immediately meeting her eyes, then curved his mouth into a cheeky smile and asked, "What?"
Lia blinked.
"Uh… Nothing." She shook her head, withdrawing her arm back to her lap and clasping her own hands together. "I… Yeah. They're great, and we're just… We're all very close."
Harry narrowed his eyes. Wrinkling his brows, he mapped her stare curiously, as if trying to read inside her mind, and heat quickly spread through her cheeks. She didn't want her face to get red in front of him, so she looked down to her fingers, and waited for him to say something. Anything.
After a moment, he finally asked, "Do you miss them?"
Lia nodded.
"Mhm…" She closed one hand into a fist, squeezing her thumb into her palm, and rubbed her knuckles with the other hand. "But I visit pretty often, so…" —she shrugged— "It makes it easier."
Harry hummed, shuffling and spreading his legs wider. He brushed his thumb across the fabric of her jeans, right over her knee, and although she couldn't see him, a smile was clear on his voice when he murmured, "I bet it does."
And then, in what felt like the first time in hours, Harry didn't ask nor say anything else, and let silence engulf them.
So far, their conversation had purely focused on her. Lia had waited for him to willingly drop some personal information while she answered all of his questions, but the only things she'd been able to figure out were that Harry was an older brother and that his entire family still lived in England, which wasn't anywhere close enough to ease her curiosity.
There were so many things she still wanted to know about him. How many siblings did he have? Was he the oldest? Or was there an older sibling than him? When had been the last time he'd seen his family? Did he talk to his parents often? Did he miss them? Was he planning to go back any time soon? How long had he been living in the US?
Also, why hadn't he kissed her yet?
Or, well, why hadn't he kissed her again?
He had pecked her cheek earlier, when he'd arrived, and the back of her hand minutes after that, but that was all she'd gotten so far.
How long would it take for him to kiss her again?
Could he tell how much she wanted him to kiss her again?
Did he even want to kiss her again?
"Hey," Harry called. He turned his upper body slightly, facing her, and tilted his head to the side. "What's on your mind?"
With several blinks, Lia darted her eyes up to his, then to his forehead. He didn't have any curls hiding his skin, or that she could run her fingers through and pull away from his face. Actually, his hair was perfectly messily styled. It looked soft. And pretty. He looked pretty.
She swallowed.
"Nothing."
Harry snorted. He placed one hand on top of hers, then sneaked his fingers in between her palms, breaking the tight grip she had on herself.
"Has anyone ever told you," he asked, holding her hand and tugging it to his chest, "that you're not very good at lying?"
Lia's mouth twitched up. She dropped her weight to the side, resting her body against the cushion and her free arm on top of the backrest.
"To be honest, no."
A smile lit up his face. He skittered his fingers into the spaces between hers, intertwining their hands.
"Are you telling me that you've been getting away with that shitty lying your entire life?"
She gasped. "It's not shitty!"
The amusement all over his face only grew bigger. "Yeah, it is."
"You're rude."
"'M just saying." He shrugged, then slid his free fingers down her leg, stopping by her ankle and giving it a light squeeze. "You're not fooling me, darling."
The way the words rolled out of his mouth in such a low tone and British accent left her speechless, and she rolled her eyes, kicking his hand away. Harry laughed, dodging her foot and taking his hand up to her face.
"C'mere," he murmured, holding her jaw and leaning in.
And just like that, Harry kissed her again.
He didn't give Lia any time to think or prepare herself, and she melted into his touch. She closed her eyes and slid her hand to his neck, enjoying the way his lips felt against hers and letting him kiss her however he wanted to kiss her. And he did it softly. Sweetly. Pressing their mouths together gently, then pulling away slightly and leaning in again. And again. And again.
Short kiss. Innocent kisses. Kisses that were not even half closer to everything they could be, but that were enough to make her mouth tingle. To make her belly flutter. To make her fingers twitch. To make her quietly wish for more.
Which is why, when Harry pulled away, she stood frozen in place, and furrowed her brows.
"Sorry," he murmured, pressing their foreheads together. He brushed small circles on her cheek with his thumb, and added, "Didn't ask if I could. Was that ok?"
Still intertwining their fingers on his chest, he tightened and loosened the grip on her hand, as if making sure she understood the question was for her to answer.
Taking a loud and heavy breath in, Lia opened her eyes. She rolled her lips in, licking them, and shook her head.
Harry frowned, stopped moving his thumb, and flinched his head back. "No?"
"No," she repeated, staring into his extremely close blurred eyes. She pulled her hand away from his, and took both of her arms around his neck, hugging him. "Why did you stop?"
A smirk reappeared on Harry's lips. He sighed, dropping his shoulders and arms down, then circled her waist, pulling her chest closer to his.
"I don't know…" He brushed the tip of his nose with hers, stroking her skin up and down on one side before sliding over to the other and repeating the movement. "Guess I was trying to be nice."
Lia closed her eyes, enjoying the way his nose kept caressing hers. "It wasn't very nice… To stop."
Harry smiled. "'M sorry, love. Should I make it up to you?"
She licked her lips, and nodded.
"Ok," he murmured, dipping his head down and initiating a new kiss.
A torturous kiss.
His fluffy lips fitted perfectly with hers, caging her bottom one between his as she mimicked the action with his cupid bow. They parted for a moment, only to tilt their heads a little and meet again. He caressed her lip with his tongue, and she sighed, opening her mouth to grant him access as she dragged her hand to the back of his head and closed it in a fist around his curls. Harry held her tightly by her waist, and their warm and wet tongues met slowly, lapping against each other, over and over again, with patience and tenderness.
Harry uncrossed his arms, and slid his hands to her thighs, then back to what he could reach of her bum. He broke the kiss slowly, but never really pulled away.
"Better?" he mumbled into her lips, already diving in for a new kiss.
Lia nodded, squeezing her hold around his neck and her grip on his hair. And then, something switched, and things heated up. Leaving all mercy aside, he captured her lips and devoured her mouth, and Lia could do nothing besides moan into him and uselessly grind against the couch. She opened her mouth, giving him access to do whatever he wanted to do, and he slid his warm and flat tongue against hers, pushing and pushing her body until she was laying down and he was on top of her. One of his hands rested on the top of her head, and the other went down to her waist, and to her thighs, and back to her hips, and waist. She whimpered, and squirmed, and both hands roamed around his back as his weight cautiously crushed her body. They parted and reunited again. And again. And again, and again. Wet, noisy and desperate kisses. All over again.
It was delicious, but it was also too much, and Lia really needed a moment to catch her breath and blink her eyes open. So she held him by his curls, and pulled his mouth and face away from hers. Blinking her eyes open, she found his stare already fixed on hers.
He had furrowed brows and parted lips, and he kept breathing deeply through his mouth. He seemed… Completely lost in thoughts, and everything inside her—her feelings, her thoughts, her nerves—quivered.
Had she done something wrong?
Was he okay?
What was she supposed to say?
What was she supposed to do?
She couldn't find any words inside her mind, and even if she could, she didn't trust her voice. She felt too weak to speak. So, moving her hand to the back of his neck, she tightened her fingers and gave him a gentle squeeze.
His eyes fluttered shut before blinking rapidly.
"Uh… Shit. Sorry." He shook his head, and cleared his throat. Dropping his weight down on her, he placed both elbows on each side of her head, caging her in, then pressed their foreheads together.
Biting the inside of her cheek, she furrowed her brows. "Is… Everything okay?"
With a nod, he dipped his head and nudged her jaw with his nose, prompting her to tilt it to the side.
"Everything's great," he murmured, lowering his lips to the corner of her mouth. He barely touched her, though, trailing the softest kisses down her cheek instead. "You are great."
Was she?
He traced a path of kisses to her ear, then to her jaw, and then back to her chin.
"Bloody hell." He grunted deeply against her skin. "I want to kiss every inch of you."
He pecked the small crease at the edge of her lips, then moved down to her neck.
Lia swallowed. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out, and she quickly closed it. Between dinner and kissing, Lia had no idea how long they had been there. The living room seemed even brighter than before, all lights turned on, including the TV. Harry's hand sneaked under her sweater, and she bit her bottom lip.
She wanted to…
She was just…
Shit.
Was she supposed to… To… Shit.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
Her mind was blank. Things became blurry, kind of foggy. A trillion things out of control. Slipping through Lia's fingers. Throwing her off.
She didn't see it coming. She didn't know what triggered it, but suddenly she couldn't stop it. She couldn't stop them. The questions… Millions of them.
What was she supposed to do?
Was he expecting her to do something specific?
Shouldn't they maybe move to her bedroom?
Wouldn't they be more comfortable in bed?
Would he leave if she suggested they moved somewhere else?
Would she kill the mood if she asked for him to turn off the lights?
Shit. That… That wasn't going to work, was it?
No, it wouldn't.
Harry wasn't like her.
Clearly.
Obviously.
Harry was a beautiful man. A fantasy coming to life. He didn't think before knocking on her door, kissing her or sleeping with her. He didn't seem to plan on surprising her with a mojito, nor going back to her apartment after his shift. He didn't seem bothered about cooking for her, or about inviting her for a date. He didn't seem to be preoccupied about what all that could mean. He didn't seem aware it could even mean something in the first place. He just… Went for it. He invaded her space, her mind, her body, her apartment, her soul, and… Made himself comfortable. Just like that.
What was he even doing there? With her?
Why… Why her?
What could connect them?
What did they have in common?
What about them, and between them, made them a good match?
What about her could be that interesting to him?
To make him want her?
To make him stay way longer than he needed to?
To make him go back a day later?
Why did she have to think so much?
Why couldn't she just enjoy things?
Why did she have to be like that?
Why couldn't she just be… Normal?
"Lia, hey," Harry grabbed her chin, pulling her head to face him.
Lia blinked.
Shit.
She blinked again, and again.
Shit.
"Lia." Harry squeezed her hips, and Lia jolted. He dropped his body on the couch, by her side, holding his weight with one arm while his other hand held her waist. "What's wrong, babe?"
"Oh my—" She covered her mouth, shaking her head and shrinking under his caring touch and worried gaze. "I'm—I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry. I— I don't— I'm sorry, I—"
"Hey, hey. It's fine." He squeezed her waist. "Everything's fine. Breathe, okay? Just breathe…"
Yes, Lia. Breathe…
Just breathe.
She couldn't, though. Her heart was racing, and the way he looked at her… She blinked again. Heat spread through her cheeks, and body. Her sight got blurry, and her eyes burned, so she shut them off.
"Look at me," he almost whispered, grabbing her wrist and pulling it away from her face. "Lia, hey, c'mon. Open your eyes babe."
She opened them, meeting his stare through warm and thick tears. He cradled her cheek, wiping the wetness falling down her face.
When had she even started crying?
"There you go… Now breathe with me, ok?"
Lia nodded.
Leaning into his touch, she followed his lead. When Harry breathed in, she took a deep and long breath in as well, as slowly as she was able to. And when he exhaled, she exhaled too—through her nose, loudly and heavily.
Then, he breathed in again, and she breathed in again…
And again…
And again…
And again…
"Yeah…" Harry smiled, moving his thumb and drawing circles on her cheekbone. "There you go."
Stuck in his green eyes, she took one hand to his wrist and wrapped her fingers around it. "Thank you."
The softness he carried all over his face warmed her heart.
"Of course." He nodded, then leaned in. Kissing her forehead, he murmured into her skin, "Are you good?"
"Yeah..."
"Good." He pulled away, and blinked slowly. "'M gonna get you some water."
"You don't have to—"
"I know," he said, sitting and shifting to jump over her legs. "I will anyway."
He got off the couch, and Lia took the opportunity to sit as well. She rubbed her palms on her cheeks, her face all sticky and stiff from the dried tears. God, what had just happened?!
"Here," Harry said, getting closer and handing her a glass of water.
She grabbed it with a soft thank you, and drank half of it while he smiled and took a seat next to her. Minutes of silence passed before any of them said anything, but Harry's presence kept soothing her constantly — whether it was by the way he placed his hand on her lower back, or the way he rubbed small circles on the exact same spot, or by the way he silently waited until she was ready to mention anything about what had happened.
"Can we talk about it?" he asked, tilting his head.
Lia drew her brows together. "I don't… I mean, yeah… But I— I don't know what happened."
"Ok…" He nodded.
"I mean, I usually see it coming but… I'm sorry."
"You don't need to apologize, Lee."
Lee. That was new. The nickname made her heart skip a beat, and she looked down at her knees, holding back a smile and focusing on what she needed to say to him. "I do, though… You barely know me, you shouldn't have to deal with me like that."
Moving his fingers up her spine, he hummed.
"That was the whole point of tonight tho, wasn't it? To get to know each other?"
She shook her head, and a humorless laugh left her chest. "Right…"
He didn't need to see her melting down right away, though, did he?
Or maybe it was better that way… Maybe it would scare him off before she got too attached and—
"I…" Harry cleared his throat, and pulled his hand off from her back. "I need to ask something… Did I, uh, do something wrong or—"
"What?" Lia shifted, turning to face him. "No."
He frowned, and worry flashed through his eyes. "You sure? You can tell me, y'know? I don't want to make you uncomfortable. So if it gets too much, or anything, we can stop, ok? You can tell me. You have to tell me."
Lia shook her head.
Oh God. That was so embarrassing.
"I… I know. I promise you didn't do anything… At all… I just… I— I started thinking too much, that's all."
"Ok…" Harry nodded. Sitting side by side, silence settled between them, until he spoke again. "Should I… Should I go? Do you need some space? To be by yourself? Just tell me."
Lia sighed. Damn, Lia. She rubbed her forehead, then dropped her hand back on her lap.
"Honestly? The last… The last thing I want right now is for you to leave… I mean… I don't want to hold you here… So, if you want to leave it's fine… I just… I don't know…"
Harry placed his hand on her back, and Lia exhaled.
"I want to stay… Just making sure that's what you want, too."
She nodded. "I do, yes. Please."
Harry's mouth slowly turned into a smile.
"Ok…" he said. "Then I'll stay."
— — —
Except for the street lights getting through the window, her bedroom was completely dark. Lia watched the sky silently, waiting for Harry to come back to bed without giving too much attention to the butterflies in her stomach. It only took him a couple of minutes to walk out of the bathroom, and when he did — and his steps in the hallway were the only sound she could focus on — she turned her head to the opposite side, and waited for his silhouette to show up.
She'd seen him taking his clothes off, and assured him she was okay with him sleeping wearing only his boxer briefs, but her heart still skipped a beat when he walked back into her bedroom, as if the sight of his tanned and inked skin was a shock to her.
Approaching her bed, he pulled his hair back and smiled. "Hii… Miss me?"
He kneeled into her mattress, and Lia rolled her eyes. Of course she missed him. He pecked her cheek, and slid under her quilt, shuffling until he was laying on his side and facing her. She turned around, too.
Hiding one arm under the pillow, he threw the other around her waist, pulling her in. He nuzzled his head on his pillow, and smiled into her eyes.
"Hiii…" he repeated.
Lia smiled, too, loosely grazing the fabric of her pillowcase. "Hi…"
"So… Where were we?"
"You were, hmm, telling me about your sisters…"
"Oh." He widened his eyes and nodded. "Right. Yeah, they're crazy. That's all you need to know."
Lia giggled. "Harry…"
He chuckled, locking his ankle with hers and drumming his fingers over her arm, stopping to stroke her elbow. "I'm kidding, I love them. I mean, they are crazy, but they are great. Nora is the youngest, then there's Faith and Hope, who just turned nineteen."
"Are they twins?"
"Mhmm… They look completely different to me, but yes."
"I have twins in my class and now they look completely different to me, too… But I couldn't tell them apart at first. I felt so bad about it…"
Harry chuckled. "Yeah they definitely took advantage of a lot of teachers during high school. Can't imagine how they're surviving apart at uni right now."
Lia smiled. "And Nora is… The one with… The one you mentioned earlier?"
"The one with anxiety? Yeah..." He pulled the corner of his mouth up. "Also the wisest of the family. She wants to be a doctor, and I'm sure she'll find a cure for something or… I don't know, something big like that."
Her smile turned into a grin. Listening to Harry talk about his family had turned out to be one of the greatest moments of their date night. She still was trying to get over the fact that he had googled how to handle anxiety attacks after his little sister started having them, and that he had driven her and picked her up from therapy for as long as he could before moving to the US. It shocked her, to realize that there was such a huge part of his life that she'd absolutely no idea about, but it also soothed her… Because it explained so much.
She knew he couldn't be so good at understanding her struggles out of nowhere. Not because she didn't think he could be a nice person, but because people weren't as accepting and patient unless they had seen or lived what was behind her actions and reactions. And Lia didn't blame them for that, she was aware of how exhausting it could be to handle her behavior — she exhausted herself with her own behavior.
"That's nice. I mean, that you believe in her."
Harry shrugged. "I'm his brother… I mean, it's the least I can do."
Lia wasn't sure her own brother had ever believed she could be capable of achieving something, but she wouldn't tell him that. She also wouldn't tell him how Patrick had absolutely no idea how to stop an anxiety attack, and that he would never be able to calm her down like Harry had done it earlier. After what had happened, she was determined to not bring more sadness or drama into the night.
"Still, I think you're a good brother."
He looked down, but she didn't miss the way his mouth twitched upwards.
Silence settled between them, and Lia breathed calmly while mapping the details of his face with her eyes.
She was lucky, wasn't she?
She licked her lips, gathering enough courage to say what she wanted to say.
"I… I didn't mean to kill the mood earlier. I'm sorry."
Harry drifted his eyes back to hers. He furrowed his brows, even slightly. "What? Don't be silly, you didn't kill any mood."
"Yeah right." She snorted. "We were… You know… And then I… Well, of course I killed the mood."
Harry smirked.
"We were… Huh?" He shuffled closer, but not close enough. "Y'know, I can get in the mood again really quick for you, so that's not a problem."
Hiding her face into her pillow, Lia giggled. Harry dragged his hand up her spine, then back down again, stopping by her waist.
She breathed in deeply, letting her chest rise and fall back down slowly. Pulling back, she searched for his eyes. When they met, they both smiled.
"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you tomorrow?" he asked, softly in the quietness of the night.
"Yes, I'm sure." She nodded. "I already feel bad enough you'll have to wake up so early."
He rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth still up. "Told you I don't mind. I'll just get home and sleep again."
"I know… But I'll feel better if you don't have to drive me to work first."
"Ok." He sighed, drumming his fingers on her back. "Ok. Fine. One step at a time. I'm making you breakfast, tho. That's not negotiable."
With a giggle, Lia nodded. "Okay."
Harry snuggled under the quilt and closed his eyes, but the movement of his fingers on her back were proof enough that he wasn't any close to falling asleep. It took Lia a couple of moments until she finally murmured his name.
"Harry…"
"Hm?"
"Isn't this… I don't know," she said, drifting her gaze all over his face. "Too fast?"
He blinked his eyes open, and furrowed his brows.
"I… Don't know? I mean, doesn't feel fast to me. Is it too fast for you? We can slow—"
"No! It isn't… I just... I guess I don't understand, that's all."
"What do you mean babe? What's there to understand?"
"Well… I mean… I don't know… Why… Why me? Y'know... Out of nowhere… I just… Why?"
He looked into her eyes for a moment, then smirked. "Are you asking me why I fancy you?"
Lia widened her eyes.
"No! What? No, I… I mean… I don't know… I just… Ugh." She dropped her gaze to his chest — his bare chest — and shook her head. "Forget it."
Harry chuckled. He grabbed her hand and took it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles before taking it to his own neck and leaving it there.
"For your information," he said, shuffling a little closer and hugging her waist once again. "I think you're beautiful. Really beautiful."
Lia's belly fluttered, and she bit her lip.
"And… You're also really cute when you blush."
Fighting back a smile, she spread her fingers on his neck, and played with a couple of curls she could reach.
"You fancy me because you know you make me nervous?"
"Oh, so I make you nervous?"
Lia rolled her eyes. "You know you do."
"Good nervous, I hope." He squeezed her waist, and murmured, "Do you really wanna know why?"
She breathed in deeply, then exhaled. Did she? Well, of course she did, but also, what if—
Ah, you know what? Fuck it.
"I— Yeah." Lia nodded. "I do."
He dipped his head in, kissed the tip of her nose, and pulled away. His voice was still a murmur when he met her eyes and spoke again: "I always thought your ass looks great in those tight jeans you were wearing today."
What?
"What?"
He chuckled, and shrugged. "Saw you wearing them at the bar plenty of times."
"You did?"
"Mhmm…"
"But… How? I mean, when? I mean…" She shook her head, and he laughed. "Don't laugh!"
"Sorryyy… Told you you're cute when you blush."
Lia rolled her eyes, and covered her cheek with her hand. "I thought you didn't even know my name… How was I supposed to know you noticed my jeans?"
"Oh, I didn't notice your jeans, babe… I noticed your ass in those jeans."
"Harry!"
"What?!" His enthusiasm was palpable in his voice, and Lia couldn't help but smile — his body vibrated next to her, and the soft chuckles coming out of his chest as he spoke turned the night brighter somehow. "You told me you always wanted to see my tattoos, didn't you? Well, I always wanted to see your ass."
"Oh my God!" Despite the joy bubbling through her body, she pulled away from him with a groan.
Harry laughed even louder.
"I'm joking, I'm joking." He grabbed her waist and threw one leg over her knees, locking her in. "I mean, I'm not... But I am."
With a sigh, and her elbows pressed on her chest, she placed her hands on his jaw. His facial hair felt soft under her fingers, and she stroked his skin attentively.
He brushed their noses, their breathing mixing together, and slid his hand down her back, reaching her bum and—
"You're not wearing shorts?"
Oh…
Lia shook her head, although she wasn't sure if his words were a question or a statement.
"Jesus Christ," he breathed out, dropping his forehead to hers. He spread his fingers open, filling his hand with her flesh before giving it a squeeze and pushing her forward. She yelped a chuckle, but quickly molded around him, circling his hips with her leg and tangling her hand with his hair. "Tryin' to get me into the mood again?"
Biting her lip, she shrugged.
"Lia…" Her name rolled out of his tongue with a mix of playfulness, frustration and determination. It made her shake inside, unsure if her move had been the right one or not. To be honest, Lia thought she knew what she was doing when she took her shorts off, and she was hoping he would do something about it when he finally noticed. If he finally noticed.
Earlier that night, when they finally went to bed — after having some tea and talking some more in the living room — Harry had laid next to her in nothing but his red boxer briefs, whilst she had put on a large old t-shirt and shorts to cover herself. It'd started as a way to feel more comfortable around him, however, as time went by, the need to feel his skin against hers grew louder and louder, which is why the moment he walked away she didn't think twice before grabbing the opportunity, as tiny as it was.
(Well… Maybe she thought twice about it — or more than twice — but eventually the fluttery inside her body spoke louder than any fear or doubt.)
He shook his head from side to side, the tip of his nose stroking hers. "Don't tease me..."
"I'm not… Teasing."
"Mhm… But you were wearing pajamas when we got into bed, weren't you?"
"Yeah…"
"And you took them off at some point."
She nodded. "Yeah… Should I… Put them on again?"
"Fuck no," Harry snorted, and pressed his mouth to hers. There was no asking, no teasing, no moment to prepare for it. Their lips brushed and immediately parted, and their tongues tangled without hesitation, finding and tasting each other with the hunger of a first touch, but also the easiness of a lifetime.
There wasn't any hurry between them, but there also wasn't any holdback.
He dug his fingertips into the back of her thigh and slid his leg between hers, pressing exactly where she wanted him the most.
Her insides twisted, and a whimper escaped from her chest. A new fluttery in her stomach spread through her entire body, warming her up. Her grip on his hair grew more intense, and he hissed.
He moved his knee down, brushing his hairy leg with her recently shaved one, then moved it up again, pressing his thigh between her legs, then rubbing it up and down.
"Shit," she breathed out, swallowing and rolling her hips on his thigh to keep the feeling flowing through her body. They had been in a very similar situation just nights before, but things felt different since then. She felt different. Whilst that other night their interaction seemed to be the result of a long build up, at that moment it felt more like the beginning of… Well, the beginning of something. Something different. "You're good at this."
Harry smirked. He removed his other arm from under the pillow and held his weight on his elbow, pushing her body until she was laying on her back and he was on top of her. He kicked the quilt away, but instead of feeling colder, Lia only felt warmer.
Hotter.
Sweating.
"You think?" Dropping himself onto his forearms, he stroked her head with his fingers, and stared into her eyes.
His question sounded innocent, almost timid, but when he lowered his hips and pressed his bulge between her legs, there was no denying that he knew exactly what he was doing. And that he was being blatantly intentional about it, both with his words and his actions.
Surprisingly, his confidence didn't bother her. If anything, it only turned her on even more — her heartbeat pounded inside her chest, and wet heat dazzled between her legs.
She hugged his neck with both arms, and lifted her head to peck his mouth.
"I do, yeah," she said, falling back against her pillow.
His smirk turned into a soft smile.
"Good," he murmured, leaning and pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth. "But just so you know… You haven't seen anything yet."
And with that, Harry kissed her again.
A new kiss. A reckless, demanding kiss. A kiss that burned. That sent the pit of her stomach into a wild swirl.
He shuffled as he kissed — as he devoured her lips —, holding his weight with one elbow on the side of her head and taking his other arm to lift her leg and hook it around his waist. He moved his hips back and forth, and Lia parted her mouth to breath out a moan while he nibbled her bottom lip, and then sucked and then kissed her again.
Everything between them became fast, and hot, and desperate. Lia didn't have time to think, and the only thing she could do was feel.
Feel him. All over her.
She felt his hot skin under the palms of her hands, and his facial hair brushing her here and there. She felt when he moved his mouth to her neck, and when he parted his lips and tasted her skin with his shameless tongue. She felt when he sucked harshly, and when he sunk his teeth before rolling his hips roughly. She felt when he moved back to her mouth and kissed her harder, and when she kissed him harder as well. And as they moved and moved and tangled with each other's bodies, she more than definitely felt his bulge getting harder and harder, pressing between her legs, and her waist, and her lower stomach.
And Lia was wet — oh boy, she was wet.
He sneaked his hand under her t-shirt, lifting the fabric and palming every inch of skin until he met her breasts. She breathed heavily as he helped her take the item off, and she didn't wait for his instruction or questioning before getting rid of her bra next.
Bare chest and exposed to him, she breathed in and out deeply. He cursed quietly, almost to himself, then dived in and attached his mouth on one side while his hand worked on the other one. His hands were big, rough, and firm. He touched her gently, but also passionately. Same as his mouth. He kissed and brushed, sucked and squeezed, and sucked and squeezed harder, and even harder, and she arched her back and moaned while tangling her fingers to his hair.
Letting her breast go with a loud pop, he hummed and scooched down, pressing wet and open kisses down her stomach.
He slid his hand down, palming and covering between her legs. "Can I?"
Lia's muscles tightened, and her skin prickled. Heat already radiated from her, and it only intensified with his touch, as if by keeping her covered he didn't allow the feeling to go away.
She nodded, and swallowed.
"You sure? Gonna tell me to stop if it gets too much?"
"Yeah…"
"Promise?"
Lia smiled. "I will, I promise… Just… Kiss me? Please? Before I start thinking too much or—"
Harry answered with a kiss, as she asked, not missing a beat nor wasting anymore time. Lia sighed, hugging him tightly, and he slipped his hand under the lace covering her heat.
Fuck.
Lia hummed into the kiss, and he sucked her tongue.
He slid his middle finger between her folds, and moved it curiously at first, as if to get to know her. Up and down, up and down. In circles. Spreading all of her wetness and desire for him around. Making her shiver, and moan, and throb.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"You're so wet," he mumbled, and Lia did nothing but scrunch her face in pleasure and hum again. He brushed his finger over her clit, and Lia jolted. Breaking their kiss with a smirk, he pressed his finger over the same spot, then rubbed mind-blowing circles. Lia's belly trembled, and her thighs clenched. His movements built up a sensation she wasn't prepared to feel, but had definitely longed to for a long time.
She rolled her hips up, silently begging for more, and he slid another finger between her folds. He soaked them with her arousal, and nibbled her lip before pulling away from her.
With her mouth parted, she watched as he took his hand from between her legs and up to his mouth. Keeping his eyes on hers, he sucked his own fingers, tasting every drop of her desire.
He fluttered his eyelids and hummed, and although it seemed impossible, Lia's underwear got even more soaked.
Removing his fingers from his mouth with a pop, he returned to his previous position, but instead of sneaking his hand under the lace like before, he took the item off.
Lia helped him, and once he was settled half on top of her, he slid his fingers between her folds again. He stroked her clit a couple of times, then pressed one finger at her entrance, and she froze.
"Hey," he said, soothing the words into her lips and turning them into a kiss. "You're amazing."
She dragged her fingers across his back, kissing him back and relaxing under his weight. Harry took the opportunity and went all the way in with his finger, at the same time pressing her clit with his thumb.
"Oh God," she breathed out, knees buckling. That was it. She was obsessed. She was ruined. She would never be able to get over how fucking good he tasted, and how fucking good he kissed her. And how fucking good he touched her. "Oh."
Harry worked his magic on her. He moved his fingers in the right places, with the right amount of pressure, and switching at the right moments. In and out, in and out. Curling in, hitting deep inside her. In that exact spot that had her squeezing her eyes shut and pulling her eyebrows together, toes curling and mouth parting as they breathed in and out from each other.
A moan escaped her mouth, and she jolted, hips getting away from the intensity.
Getting on his knees, Harry held her down, never stopping his movements in and out of her.
"Feels good?" he asked, the tone of his voice so low that resonated directly into her core. She bit her lip and nodded, arching her back.
Out of the million things Lia would never be brave enough to tell Harry — or anyone, for that matter —, her inability to come was probably her top number one. She rarely did, unless she was the one in control of the situation, something that never happened besides when she touched herself.
On Friday night, when they fooled around on her couch, despite Harry doing the majority of the job, she knew she'd gotten herself there. She'd been on top, so she'd grinded on him and drove herself to climax on those last few seconds.
It was embarrassing, really. She just couldn't get out of her own head, and instead of letting herself go in the moment, overthinking took control of the situation and faded the feeling away. After dating Cole for so many years, of course she'd learned how to fake it, and she'd learned how to live with that. She didn't expect anything different to happen, not anymore. There were other things about having sex that she could enjoy.
And yet, for some reason, Harry made it all different. She could feel him getting her closer and closer to climax, the tension low in her stomach and the quivering between her legs. She also recognized the way her thoughts drifted her away from the moment, so before she ruined everything, she let the words out of her mouth.
"Kiss me, please."
He crawled back to her in a blink of an eye, meeting her mouth while his fingers kept working in and out, in and out. Fast. Urgent. Tender. Rough. Careful. Desperate. Hot. Precise. She threaded her fingers on the back of his head, tightly, holding herself together while also letting herself come undone. A low grunt echoed from the back of his throat, and the sound was the last push she needed to let the bubble burst.
Her muscles tensed, and she trembled. Ears ringing while shocks of electricity bolted through her body.
Harry guided her until the last wave, smothering kisses all over her while whispering soft words of encouragement.
"You're incredible… Can't wait to kiss you all over… Can't wait to taste you… Actually, there are so many things I wanna do to you right now…"
Her mouth curved into a smile, and as she focused on catching her breath again, she distracted herself by stroking her fingers on the back of his neck.
Carefully, Harry hovered her body, his forearms caging her head as he placed one on each side.
"Hiii…" He smiled, and she hugged his neck. "Was that good?"
Lia bit her lip, and nodded. "Mhmm… Better than good."
His smile turned into a grin, and he dropped his head down, nuzzling on her neck.
"Good," he said, and pressed a gentle kiss to her sweaty skin. "'M happy to please."
With a chuckle, Lia raked her fingers through his curls.
He dropped his weight on top of her, relaxing his body, and the hardness of his arousal was impossible to ignore. It brought a new rush to her, flushing low and deep in her stomach. Wet where she was still sensitive between her legs.
"Do you…" She swallowed, and cleared her throat. "Do you have a condom?"
Harry pulled away from her neck, meeting her eyes.
"I do, yeah… You sure, tho? There's no pressure. I'm good."
"You don't want to?"
Harry smirked. "I'm sure you can feel how much I do."
"Then… Condom?"
Chuckling, he pecked her mouth. "Ok, yeah. Condom, yeah."
He rushed out of bed, and Lia bit her lip to contain her giggles. She turned on her side, watching as he crossed the room and searched for his pants. Through the darkness, and thanks to the street lights, she admired his toned and strong body. His red boxer briefs were tight around his thighs, and his length was visibly thick and still ready for what (Lia hoped) was coming next.
"Ha!" He dropped his wallet to the floor, and Lia blinked. "Here it is."
Running back to her, he stopped by the side of her bed. He grabbed the hem of his underwear, a foil packet hidden under his palm, and stared into her eyes.
"Are you sure you want—"
"Harry," — Lia sighed — "I appreciate your concern, really, but the more you ask, the more I doubt myself. Or how much you want me— this. How much you want this."
"Shit, sorry," he said, taking his briefs off in a swift and quick movement. "Sorry."
He kneeled in bed, and crawled closer, stopping by her side to rip the foil packet open. She tried not to stare as he pumped himself a couple of times, but at the same time she didn't really want to look away. He closed his eyes and dropped his head down, and Lia was sure she had never been attracted to every single part of a man's body before — Harry had easily become an exception for everything in her life, apparently.
After rolling the condom down his length, he once again dropped his body over hers, placing his elbows on each side of her head. He kissed the tip of her nose, and then pecked her mouth.
"Just to be clear," he said, "I want you. And this. I want this with you. Ok? I'll say it as many times as you need me to believe it."
Lia breathed in deeply, and slowly out. Out of words, she launched herself forward to kiss him, placing her hands on his shoulders before wandering them across his back. Harry hummed and kissed her back, humming and grunting when her tongue took the initiative to meet his.
The kiss slowed down, though, turning into something much gentler and careful than it had been before. It was still hot, and still sensual, but intense in a different way.
He lowered his waist, his legs on each side of hers, and the moment their bodies met, grunts and moans left both of their mouths. He pressed and pulsated between her thighs—so hard, so warm, and so needy for her.
She wanted to do something, but she didn't know what, and she didn't want to get overwhelmed by trying to figure it out.
Harry must've sensed something, because he whispered into the kiss, "Just breathe, yeah?"
When she nodded, he held his weight with one arm and took the other between their bodies, spreading his legs wider to tease between her folds with his tip. Her jaw fell open, and she parted her legs as well, giving him access to push just a little bit inside her. A loud and deep moan of pleasure bursted out of her, and Harry guided her to move her legs and wrap them around his waist.
They kissed and sighed together when he pushed inside, and she squeezed her eyes shut when the stretching caused her to clench. The sound of his pleasure was incredible, though, and the encouragement she needed to breathe in and out and relax for him to go in, and in, and in. A hint of pain flashed through her, and she held on tight on his shoulders, sinking her nails into him. He kissed her, and pushed the last inch in, fully entering her. They both deeply moaned against and inside each other's mouths, and Harry's expression quickly changed — lips pursing and parting as a frown took over his face.
He thrusted in and out once, as if he was testing the movement, and then…
And then there was no going back for them. What started as a tender and relaxed pace, both of them setting to a rhythm that felt comfortable and affectionate, gradually became hungrier, frantic, erratic and desperate.
Hard, rough, steady strokes filled her in. Deeply, completely. She arched her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust, and Harry took care of her at every single moment. Never allowing her to think too much about it, or to hold back from her instincts.
She roamed her hands around his chest, and back, and she tightened them around his curls as he held her bum and slammed into her. The sound of their flesh smacking against each other drove her crazy, just like the sound of him sliding in and out of her — she was so fucking wet for him.
She kissed him again. A wet, sloppy kiss as they moved as one. Louder, quicker. A moan inside of his mouth. Panting. Almost out of breath. He squeezed her breast, then pinched her nipple, and she grabbed his jaw and turned his face away from hers. Pushing his head closer to her mouth with her other hand, she kissed his neck and slid her flat tongue across his skin, pressing her lips and sucking and sucking until she created a harsh and painful mark on him.
"Fuck me," he grunted. "Shit, Lia. Fuck."
Deeper, faster. Everything burnt. He was so, so deep. Her heart raced, and their bodies met with an unrelenting tempo. He squeezed her and pressed her together. Moaning. Panting. Louder. Her name felt from his lips like a song, and she held onto him as if the world would end the next morning. And when she came, she came moaning loudly inside his mouth. She came hard, soaking around him, exploding from her stomach and releasing through her entire body. She shivered and clenched and, when she closed her eyes, the stars lightened everything up. She felt him moaning her name, grunting her name. Releasing everything into the condom and then grabbing her face to kiss every single inch he could reach.
"Amazing," he mumbled, kissing her tired mouth and burning cheeks. "Bloody fucking amazing you are."
Another kiss, still hugging her, still pulling her closer. Like he didn't want her to go away. Like he couldn't believe what had just happened between them. Like he couldn't believe what that night had turned into. Like he had just had the most amazing sex of his entire life.
Or maybe that was just her, because those thoughts were exactly the only ones flooding her mind.
Two people finding each other. Two people creating a new story for themselves. Two people dealing with their own individual stories from the past. Two people dreaming about a story together in the future. Two people messing every single story up. Two people learning how to let stories go. And two people and every other story in between all that.
Or…
It is a story about mojitos, a white t-shirt, thinking too much, laughing out loud, whispered moments, caramel ice cream, too many kisses, taking a deep breath, unspoken words, cuddling, cooking, feeling, intimacy, and, above all, about really, really, really wanting to be with someone.
Rating: +18
Warnings: Mental health (anxiety/social anxiety), explicit sexual content and explicit language.
Wattpad
Chapter 1 - 7,2k words (17/nov/22)
Chapter 2 - 5,4k words (18/nov/22)
Chapter 3 - 4k words (18/nov/22)
Chapter 4 - 4,6k words (18/nov/22)
Chapter 5 - 9,6k words (18/nov/22)
*This story’s been rewritten. Lia and Harry’s one shot was originally posted on February 4th, 2022, and deleted on July 4th, 2022.
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