Notorious

Femme Fatale

This is crazy. You are crazy. You are an insane evil temptress idiot. Take it off.

The minute that I slipped on the white, lacy lingerie that Harry had picked out for me I knew I was certifiable. And as I my thumb presses 'send' I know that I need to change before I am put into a loony bin.

Door is unlocked. Let yourself in. I'm changing and no one else has come yet to let you in.

Yeah, no one else has showed up yet because I told him to come at an earlier time than everyone else.

Again, seriously bat shit crazy. Crazy for revenge.

And as I hear the doorknob twist and the door squeak open, I know that it is way too late to back out now and that I simply need to put on a confident façade. Even if I have no idea what I'm doing –I hadn't exactly thought this all out.

Liam had just so graciously informed me that my mother wants us over for dinner at her house Sunday and I found myself desperate for a distraction. But, not it seems to be blowing up in my face and I am left to wonder how one go about making a man crumble to his feet and then laugh in their face?

Ever since the ice cube incident, Harry had been relentless in his attempts to wind me up: constantly touching me –on the shoulder, on my thigh, on my lower back- whispering things that porn stars would blush at whenever given the chance, and always making sure to catch my eye from across the room and level me with a heavy stare that made my knees weak.

And I so very desperately want to tease him to the point where he finishes in his pants just at the sound of my breathing.

It honestly shocks me that the band hasn't noticed Harry's intentions as of late because he wasn't exactly subtle. But, then again, this is his usual flirty behavior, so they probably think nothing of it. That thought alone only makes me more determined to give him a taste of his own medicine.

"Munchkin?" Harry calls out and I hear the clicking of his boots on my hardwood as he makes his way down the hall.

I quickly turn around to face my closet, pretending I didn't hear him. I begin to sort through my clothes to make it seem as if I was in the middle of changing and not waiting for him to walk in on me in the lingerie he had picked out and no idea that I had actually bought.

The sound of his scuffing boots comes to an end abruptly and I know that he is standing at the doorway to my bedroom. My skin begins to heat instantly when I feel his burning gaze scanning my figure up and down repeatedly. My heart is practically jumping up my throat, but I swallow it down quickly as I spin around to face him and feign surprise.

You can do this, Aspen. You are a confident, sexy, clev-

"Oh, Harry. I-I didn't hear you come in."

Okay, maybe you can't do this.

The awkward laugh that escapes my lips is almost pitiful and the way I fumble around trying to act surprised to see him would win about as many Oscars as Leonardo Dicaprio.

But, the way Harry gawks at me inflates my ego beyond comprehension. I have never seen a man so encompassed with desire and awe and I try not to smirk too heavily.

The once emerald green in his widened eyes has shifted into a dark abyss as they rake over my scantily clad figure over and over and over, his jaw sweeps the hardwood until his teeth appear to capture his bottom lip, and his jeans have become noticeably tighter.

I can tell that he isn't sure where to look first as his eyes jump around every inch of my skin, lingering slightly on the clothed bits. He looks completely shocked, but very pleased at the sight of me wearing his lingerie. I can only stand there and watch as he blows out a breath of air and finally settles his gaze on my eyes.