The Maiden in Winter // Harry Styles Series #4

TWENTY FOUR

~A~

"Alex?"

"Here."

He wore flannel pyjamas, dark blue printed with yellow rubber ducks, and big fuzzy pink socks. His hair, flat on one side from sleeping on it, stuck out in loops and tufts on the other. Creases from the sheets and pillow crisscrossed his cheek. He reminded me of a little boy, but six feet tall with a few days' scruff on his face.

"Come sit." I patted the cushion beside me and he tucked into a tight ball, leaning against me, his head on my shoulder.

"I'm glad you didn't run away this time."

"I didn't kiss you then vomit last night."

"No, but you got more than you bargained for. I wouldn't have blamed you for going."

I handed him my mug and he took a long sip, staring into the middle distance, eyes unfocused.

"Harry?"

His eyes reflected the day, a bit dull, the blue in them showing as flat grey.

"Yes?"

"It's ok. That you told me. It's all safe with me. You're safe with me."

He set the coffee on the table and wrapped his arms around me, squeezing tight. "I believe you. I feel better today. Like something's working itself free in me. Like something good might happen."

His hold on me loosened and I leaned back, happy to see a growing clarity in his gaze. I didn't have long to look, though, as he leaned in and kissed me.

What began as a soft press of lips, chaste and sweet, deepened quickly. When I pulled his lower lip between my teeth, sliding my tongue along its soft edge, he made an almost imperceptible sound, somewhere between a sigh and a whimper.

Hands roamed up and down backs, through hair, cupped faces as our mouths moved against one another, breath coming in gasps. It was as though we were desperate to connect, to share something tangible after hours of emotional outpouring.

With a move both assertive and fluid, he lifted me onto his lap, facing him, his thighs between mine. As he left a burning trail of kisses down the side of my neck I leaned back, my hips tilting against his, the press of his arousal between us.

I was going to have sex with Harry Styles.

I froze as all of the questions about expectations and experience exploded in my brain.

"Alex, what is it?"

"What if I'm not good enough? What if I'm boring? What if I can't compare to other women you've been with?"

"That's not how it works, love. Everyone is different, everyone is different with different people. You either find your way or you don't. And you can't know until you try. Tell me what would make you comfortable, where you'd be comfortable."

No one had ever asked me that before, not specifically. I had to think about it a moment before I could answer. He was patient.

"I'd really like to be naked with you. To feel you, to know your body. Somewhere warm and quiet and close."

"Would my bed work?"

"Absolutely."

He picked me up, still facing him, my legs around his hips. I felt him tremble before he spoke, "I'm sorry, Alex. I can't carry you. My leg just isn't strong enough yet."

"It's ok," I whispered in his ear as I slid down to my feet, "I can walk." I took his hand and lead him down the long hallway and into the muted light of the bedroom.