All That You Are

Chapter Six

It's been hours.

Stefano flew back to England after the incident, claiming he didn't feel too hot and the Saccaro's hopped on their jet back to California. Harry's been left with the mess to clear away paperwork and a shaken-up wife.

She's sitting on the kitchen counter, thighs parted in her flowy dress as she watches Harry rummage through the freezer. They haven't uttered a word since they left the warehouse and Y/N did well at pretending she didn't hear him tear into Mike over the phone when they took a couple detours so he could put things in place.

He's wrapping a bag of frozen peas in a thin dishcloth as he makes his way back over to her and she struggles to breath in his presence again. Harry stands between her thighs, peas in one hand while the other reaches up to brush her hair from her face to get a better look at her eye.

It's swollen just a little but there's a dull, purple marking that's starting to stain the skin.

"This is gonna sting a little," he warns in a soft tone.

She lets him raise the clothed peas to her face and gently press the frozen fabric to her eye. She winces at the foreign feeling and he coos, keeping her softly in place.

Her eyes flutter open to look back up at him. His brows are knit in a gentle frown and she can feel his warm breath fanning across her face; mint and cinnamon. He brushes hair from her eyes again and Y/N decides that out of all the men she's ever known, ever met, he's by far the kindest.

No man has defended her like him. No man has threatened her father for her.

Maybe it's because the situation has finally had a chance to sink in and she's grateful, or maybe it's because what happened opened her eyes to what she wants and what could be. She doesn't know, but something wills her to drop the peas and lean forward until her soft lips smear against his.

Harry's eyes are wide in slight shock. He gives her a couple of seconds to pull away, to take it back -- but she doesn't. So he lets himself sink into her touch and kiss her back, just as soft and tenderly. It's as innocent as their first and last kiss, on their wedding day, but so much more is said behind it.

She pulls off him bashfully, cheeks tinted pink as she clears her throat and blinks down at her hands.

"Thank you," she breathes.

Harry's eyes are glued to her partly-shielded face and his hands reach for her cheek, forcing her to meet his gaze.

Y/N's eyes are wide, lips plump and glossy. He kisses her again, lips parted as he envelops hers. She hums against him, lips closed and he licks at her bottom one, coaxing them open. When her mouth parts the slightest, his tongue slides against hers.

Harry's got his hands on her hips as he takes the lead of the kiss, allowing her hesitant tongue to explore his skilled one. Her own hands are trembling against his chest at the new form of intimacy between them but she can't get enough. His taste and touch is intoxicating and she wants more.

Harry's no better; his heads swimming and he's trying to will himself not to fucking ruin her there and then on the kitchen counter. She's sweet on his tongue and it's fogging his senses. One hand leaves her hip to grip at her thigh and he manages to coax them around his waist, tugging him impossibly closer so he can smell her sweet perfume.

Y/N wants to tell him that she knows. Knows what he really did on their wedding night, that he faked the sheets. That while she remembers what he told her that night, she doesn't fear him. That she knows he didn't mean it. That she knows he will protect her.

She thinks she's got the courage to tell him, to open up and learn who he truly is but there's a harsh vibration coming from beside them as his phone rattles on the counter. He pulls away from her with a groan, lips swollen and pink and Y/N looks royally fucked and flushed.