Malefactor [H.S.]

23

I wake up to an annoyingly bright light shining on my face. With a groan, I pull the comforter over my head and roll the other way in an attempt to block it out. My eyes are still closed and my brain is mostly asleep, so I don't question my ability to keep moving without hitting the wall my bed is pushed up against. I sigh in contentment, enjoying the comfort of the memory foam mattress beneath me.

Oddly enough, that's what sends my eyes flying open.

I shoot up, my sleepy brain fighting to process the room I'm in. For a few seconds, I relax and think that I'm in the spare room in Niall's house that I've been sleeping in for the past week. But as I take in the floor-to-ceiling windows that display the blurry New York City skyline that also clues me into the fact that I'm at least fifty stories up, I realize that's not the case.

I'm in Harry's bed.

The knowledge of last night slowly begins coming back to me, the events hitting like an avalanche that leaves me buried underneath a pile of unwanted memories.

I got myself off in front of Harry while he got himself off to me.

My cheeks burn as I recall the time on his couch, a faint tingling occurring between my legs as I, more importantly, recall the names he called me; the things he said to me that I tried not to react to but inside was screaming at because holy shit.

I don't know whether to be filled with instant regret and shame for ever letting a man who threatened my life numerous times see me in such a vulnerable state, or be instantly turned on again at how incredible he made me feel without ever once touching me there.

No, that's giving him too much credit. It was my hand that finished the job, not his.

But his words...

I shake my head, physically trying to throw the thoughts out of my mind. My hand slaps around for my glasses, but of course, they're not there. Just as I remember the events of the early morning, I also remember the more PG events from earlier on in the night. I wore my contacts out yesterday.

With a groan, I get out of bed and creep out into the hallway, squinting as I fight to see any semblance of a person that would have to be Harry himself. There's nothing, but I do hear noise coming from the main floor, so I move towards the stairs.

Harry is the one talking, I realize. I peek my head over the railing to see below into the living room. Although it's blurry, I'm not blind and can tell he's not there. His voice travels from further on the main floor. My head is still too heavy with sleep to understand what he's saying, carefully heading down the gigantic staircase to make it into the living room. I make it almost fully down the stairs when I freeze, a second voice that I've never heard before carrying through the open space.

A woman's voice.

Followed by the unfamiliar sound of Harry laughing, in a completely innocent and not at all malicious way.

I wish I could say this surprises me, but it doesn't. He's always struck me as the type to sleep around with as many women as possible, possibly because he told me so himself in so many words, but I'd be a liar if I said it didn't sting. I mean, seriously—he couldn't have at least waited until I left before bringing another girl back?

I'm about to turn back around and hide up in his room until the coast is clear, but thanks to my impaired vision from my lack of glasses or contacts, I completely misjudge my footing and go tumbling backward down the few remaining steps.

"Fuck!" I curse, my body slamming into the ground with a loud thud.

"Is someone else here?" the same female voice asks, sounding like they're getting closer.