Poppy/H.S

Chapter 36

I thought I was dreaming, but the feeling of Harry's hands wrapped around my waist as we danced, felt extremely real. His warm breath was tickling my neck, making me gasp for air, as we swayed our hips together what I've now learned was Harry's favourite song by Britney Spears.

I look him in the eyes when the song ends, trying to shake away all the dirty thoughts that are running through my mind at the pure sight of Harry's messy hair, and I can't help myself as I run my hand through the soft curls, making his breath hitch at my sudden, confident behaviour.

The fact that I'm not wearing my high heels anymore, standing barefoot in the hallway of the club, makes me shorter than I usually am, I can tell Harry's noticed the new height difference, too, when he smiles in my direction as his eyes travel up and down my body.

I stand on my tip toes, leaning closer to Harry until I reach his ear, "Thank you for the private concert," I tell him, giggling as I take his earlobe between my teeth, gently sucking on it.

For the duration of the catchy song, Harry sang the lyrics so passionately, I couldn't help but smile at the sight of him doing what he really loved. I would sell my sould to the devil if it meant I could see Harry perform this song live on tour, the screams of his fans echoing through the venue.

"Anything for my favourite fan," he says flirtatiously in return, his hand travelling up and down my back, and I can't help but wonder how it would feel, if he let his hand wander even lower, beyond all the boundaries we've set.

I pull away from him, giggling, as I tuck a messy strand of my hair behind my ear, reaching for the pair of my broken Manalo Blahnik pumps laying on the floor. I can tell his eyes are focused on me as I bend down to grab the shoes, my ass now on display. I cheekily raise my eyebrows at him when I stand back up, making him suddenly act so innocent, looking around the room, trying to pretend he didn't look.

"You ready?" I ask him, trying to get his attention, as he seems so concerned on checking the wallpaper in the room.

"Yeah," he nods his head, clearing his throat.

He walks over to the elevator and presses the button, which opens the door, "After you," he says, holding the door open for me as he waits for me to enter the elevator.

"Thanks," I give him a warm smile as I walk past him, waiting for him to join me in the fancy elevator with mirrors all around.

He just nods his head in acknowledgement as he walks into the elevator, looking over the list of the floors available here before pressing the button to the garage.

The door closes, and the two of us remain silent for the rest of the ride, knowing very well there's a camera placed in every corner of the lift.

When we reach the garage, the door opens with a beep. Before I can walk out of the door, he grabs my wrist, "Wait," he says, confusing me.

"Did you forget something at the club?" I ask him, wondering why he wants to stay in the elevator for longer than required.

"Nope," he says, popping the p, as he comes closer to me, bending down a little until he reaches for me, one of his hands on my back, keeping me stable as the other one finds home under my knees.

"What are you doing?" I ask him rhetorically, shocked. It's too late to wave my legs around in the air now, his grip on me way too strong, carrying me bridal style.

"I'm carrying you to my car," he replies to my question smugly.

"Put me back down, Styles," I warm him, tugging on his hair, which only makes his grip on me tighten.

"Not happening," he shakes his head, smiling ear to ear, "You're not walking barefoot in this dirty fucking garage. Wanna catch something?"

"Harry," I groan, not liking the idea of him carrying me, "I'm way too heavy, you're gonna hurt yourself. Put me down, please, I'm perfectly capable of walking."