Spotlight |h.s|

Sixty Nine

Aubrey Hart

The shower water runs hot as my back presses to the cool tile of the wall, his lips on mine as his wet hair brushes against my face.

I didn't expect the morning after finally admitting to myself that I love Harry to look like this, but I also never could've expected my night of realization to end with him tied up in bed with candle wax on his chest.

It's like we've been making up for our couple of weeks without sex when I first moved in or something. While what we've been has pretty much always been dating without the legitimate label on it, something about the actual name to it is making us go through that classic honeymoon phase since he asked me to be his girlfriend in his own awkward little way.

I never want it to end, but with the way my feelings for him tend to be growing rapidly, I know I won't be able to keep this from him forever. Despite how much I wish I could, I find the words ready to leave my mouth every five minutes since I first allowed myself to think them. Even before I actually admitted it to myself, I found myself almost saying it on multiple occasions only to be interrupted. Whether I want it to happen or not, I'm going to say it and have to deal with the consequences of it, whether that be him saying it back or running for the hills.

The loss of control the statement gives me is what holds me back from speaking on it, all of this feeling terrifyingly fast and out of my hands. I could have a full-blown panic attack over the mere thought of it, causing the phrase to be pushed to the very back of my mind so I can focus on the kiss he's giving me in the steam-filled shower.

He picks me up in the small space, my legs wrapping around his torso as my arms are tight around his neck for support. The water hits him and splashes onto me every so often, both of our bodies already cleaned of the remnants of last night.

We've been building this moment all morning, something being more sensual about the way we washed each other and touched each other in here. There's also no way to stop thinking of him in a sexual way right now, his entire chest and a good portion of his neck covered in deep red and purple hickeys that he'll now have to deal with hiding for a while.

I'll obviously help him out with hiding them, especially considering the fact that I made them in the first place.

His wet body presses to my own as his lips mesh with mine in a way that leaves my head spinning while standing nearly still. I can feel him fully hard against me, making me moan into his lips at the friction between our cores.

His kisses leave my lips and go down my jaw, then to my throat. My hips shift against his in a loss of control, feeling so incredibly needy even after the events of last night. I always want him. I could never not want him, though, the emotion spilling out of me in rapid waves with each kiss and touch.

I tug at his hair and feel the vibration of the throaty groan against my skin, hips bucking with the pleasurable pain without any control over his actions. I feel him sucking marks into my skin, knowing just how covered in bruises we both are but not caring in the slightest.

As weird as it sounds from someone so used to being independent, I love the idea of everyone knowing that I'm his and he's mine.

There's that word again.

I don't know how to stop myself from thinking it now that it's been put into my head. I love the feeling of his body against mine. I love the look of his calm face when he's sleeping. I love how we always tend to shower together, and not even always in a sexual way. I love the way I feel when he kisses me. I love waking up beside him every morning. I love trying new things with him and trusting him not to judge me in any of them. I love things as simple as the jewelry he wears to things much deeper like the way we seem to be made for each other, meant to collide and become immensely important to each other without warning in a matter of months.