ambit. [hs au]

Chapter 27

A/N: Of course I wouldn't rob you. <3 

*** 

Harry furrows his eyebrows, looking down at me, hands still on my waist. His lips quirk up on a crooked smile, eyes scanning my face.

"So let me get this straight," He speaks, voice barely above a raspy whisper. "Are you not mad at me for gatekeeping your phone?"

"No, I am," I say matter-of-factly, shaking my head. "You had no right, Harry. To answer or not, that's not your decision to make."

Lifting my hands to his shoulders, I graze my fingers on his collarbones, watching the way it raises goosebumps on his skin, and my stomach clenches hard with the sight. It's mesmerizing how he seems to react to my touch the same way I react to his.

Well, maybe not the same way, he's still breathing normally, but you get the drill.

"Still, you want me to distract you," Harry checks, taking a step closer, the warmth of his body now engulfing mine, his hands traveling up to my neck. "Even though you're mad at me."

He wraps one hand around my neck, slightly tight, just enough so he can feel my pulse hammering in my veins with his thumb. The air is so heavy now, I can barely breathe, and the proximity of his body doesn't help - it's overwhelming, steamy hot and so fucking tempting. His other hand goes to the back of my head so he can fist my hair, tilting my head up so my nose grazes softly onto his jaw; that's how fucking close we're standing.

"Yeah," I breathe out, darting my tongue out to lick my lips, my mouth suddenly going bone dry, "Even though I'm mad."

"Why are you mad, tho?" He asks raspily, cocking his face to the side, just enough so his parted lips can reach my jaw, humid breath ghosting over my skin, "He deserves to be left unanswered."

"I don't care," I close my eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath, my heart literally skipping beats in anticipation of his touch. "I don't like being told what to do, Harry, and you keep trying to boss me around with my pho—"

The words get lost in my throat as Harry scoffs, suddenly tightening his hold on my neck, at the same time he pulls the roots of my hair that hard it propels me to take a step further. A pathetic little yelp manages its way out of my mouth as he all but drags me towards the bed with him, a twisted smirk playing on his lips.

Once we're at the foot of the bed, he turns his eyes to look at me, and they're darker than ever, menacing even, which for some reason, only makes my insides clench harder.

Something is seriously wrong with me.

"Don't like being told what to do, huh?" He tuts, voice dropping to an octave as he jerks his chin towards me, "Get on your fucking knees, Birdie."

For a brief second, I just pause, looking at him completely astonished. It doesn't last long, but it's enough for his grip around my jaw to get tight, and the thrill it sends shooting throughout my body is enough to make me more certain than ever that I should really, really, consult with a therapist the moment I leave his house tomorrow.

His eyes shine, some deep kind of satisfaction flashing behind them as I lower my body, dropping down to my knees. The conversation we were having a second ago is now completely gone from my mind - I'm not even angry at him for keeping my phone away from me anymore.

I shoot my hands up, going to his muscular thighs, but before I can reach for the waistband of his boxers, the grasp of his fingers on my hair gets tighter, while his other hand goes to my wrists, pulling them away from his legs. He yanks my head backwards, forcing me to look up at him, very submissively might I add.