in which joelle d'amore is completing her final semester of university in the grand city of los angeles, california. when she finds herself in the presence of harry styles, a piercing man with dangerous agendas, she is permeated with fear. she saw s...
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My eyes flutter open to see the room in bright daylight. I inhale then hum softly as my arms lift for a quick stretch. When I look over, I'm surprised to see him sleeping right next to me.
So I wasn't dreaming.
I bring my hands down, sitting myself up. He's lying on his front and I could hear his gentle snores. Facing the other way, I can't see his face but only the heap of messy curls. I want to run my fingers right through them, but I'd hate to wake him.
I didn't think the man slept at all until now.
I can hear the birds chip through the open window where a breeze comes through. As the thin curtains wave, my eyes remain fixated on him. I remind myself, Harry showed up in the middle of the night for some reason.
For me? I doubt that. I'm sure there was a reasonable explanation for him to crash at Zayn and Sutton's when I so happened to be there.
I watch the morning sunbeams shine over his bareback. I then think, I've never seen a back as good as this one.
Is that weird?
Chiseled-by-God shoulder blades, no tattoos, and without a blemish in sight, I almost want to rest my cheek on top of him just to see what it would feel like. I desire the closeness we shared at two in the morning again. I don't remember when I ended up falling asleep or when I pulled my underwear back on. I just remember holding him, growing sleepier by the second after experiencing such a high. And for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel alone in the world.
He held me, too, and I swear I can still feel the traces of the shapes he'd made still linger like heat on my spine.
Harry wakes up. With a small snort from his abrupt wake, he lifts his head from off the pillow.
I press my lips to keep from laughing.
He then turns his head, looking right at me as he remains flat on his belly. With a forming frown, he then says, "What are you looking at?"
His voice is so hoarse and so groggy this early in the morning. I scrunch my nose a little. "Apparently not a morning person," I say for a light tease.
I bite down on my lip when he begins to sit up. He groans a little as he lets his feet touch the floor. His back is towards me and I let my eyes wander all over again. He cracks his neck when tilting his head to the side. He then stands. "Get ready, D'Amore," he simply says and leans down to pick up his clothes from the day before off the floor.
I keep watching him. The way he moves intrigues me. I feel like I have to hold my breath the moment I catch a glimpse of his front.
As he's putting his t-shirt on, I notice his boxer briefs hang a little too low. I don't want to look, but my eyes can't seem to peel away. Then, I see that damn tiger tattoo.
