Ignition [h.s]

18

ELISE ROSEWOOD

When I wake up in the morning, a foot is pressing into my shin. Where it would usually panic me to wake up with someone in bed, I don't immediately freak out. I've grown used to the sensation of sleeping beside Harry several times during our travels by now. Whether we share a room in a shitty motel with stained ceilings and spill drunken secrets to each other, or we sleep on the hard ground of his Texas art studio after painting all day, it seems that no matter where we are, Harry and I can crawl into the recesses of dreams hand in hand.

I slowly peel my eyes open and watch the way his chest rises and falls as he snores softly in his sleep, his mouth lulled open just a fraction. His arm is wrapped over my waist and his fingers gently brush up and down the skin of my spine with the sway of the boat. The distinct curl which rests above his right eyebrow continuously flops in his face, tickling his skin and making him scrunch his nose up subconsciously in his sleep.

Gently, I lean forward and sweep the curl out of his eyes. Last night floods back to the forefront of my brain in embarrassing tidal waves as soon as I touch him. One thing led to another, and we went from being invited to a foursome to Harry getting his own special treatment from my throat. I can't decide which is more embarrassing.

"What're you thinking about?" His gruff voice startles me as he blinks his green eyes awake accompanied by a kittenish yawn, extending a finger and pressing it into my cheek like it's the most natural thing in the world. I can't help but smile and push his wrist away, "Nothing."

"You're clearly thinking about something," He pouts, his lips turning downwards at the same time as his brows dip inwards. "Your cheeks have gone pink."

My cheeks only continue to flush more now he's noticed, and I pull the duvet partially over my face to hide my embarrassment. Even if we have woken up together a few times, I don't think I'd ever get used to this. It feels so... domestic and intimate.

His ringed fingers are in front of my eyes as he laughs and pulls the bedsheet back down, a hint of amusement on his own face. "I think I could make a pretty good guess of what you were thinking about."

"You haven't got the faintest idea," I lie, though he probably does know and is likely thinking about it too. Sometimes it feels like he can pry into my brain and know my every thought without even trying.

"Oh really?" His smile widens and he rolls flat on his back, glancing up at the ceiling. He scratches his head like he's pretending to think, raising the volume of his voice a considerable amount. He begins to basically shout, "You were thinking of last night, and how you befriended my dick which was down your—"

"Harry!" I shout in utter mortification, rolling over top of him and clamping my palm over his big mouth. The walls on this deck of the cruise ship are paper thin, and we've already annoyed enough people on the cruise already.

He jiggles his eyebrows, knowing he successfully got under my skin. I roll my eyes and try not to think about how I'm on top of him and how his arm is wrapped around my body. I try not to think about how it'd always be like this if we woke up together. If I focus hard enough, I swear I can feel the thrum of his heartbeat in time with mine.

A few silent moments pass and looking into his eyes this close up is like looking into an aquamarine pool speckled with golden leaves. Then he licks the inside of my palm, sending me rolling off the top of him and wiping my wet palm on his bare shoulder in disgust. "Way to ruin the moment. That was disgusting."

He barks out a laugh and sits upwards against the headboard, pulling his toned arms up to rest behind his head. The sheets fall down his tanned and inked skin but I decidedly don't give him the satisfaction of letting my eyes linger there for too long. No matter how much I want to.