Mr. Styles (H.S.) [COMPLETE]

Thirty-Four

"Katherine," she heard Mr. Styles say quietly. She looked up to see him standing there in her now open doorway.

"Get the fuck out of here, Harry," she snapped, feeling so exhausted. She didn't know if she had the emotional and mental strength to fight with him.

"Katherine, I'm sorry," he apologized, looking remorseful.

She stood up quickly and walked toward him at the same pace.

"I don't care! I don't care how sorry you are. You are fucked-up. You need fucking help," she yelled in his face.

His expression fell into a look of anger and a split second later he gripped her arms and slammed her up against the wall. She cried out, fearful of what he might do to her. He had already choked her the night she crawled into his bed, albeit unknowingly. But still, she knew what he was capable of.

"Don't tell me what I need, little girl," he growled at her, his hold on her arms tightening.

She whimpered from the pain, and then she saw his tense shoulders fall. His grip on her arms loosened and his hands slid down to her wrists.

"I'm sorry, Katherine. I'm sorry," he sighed, his eyebrows knit together from guilt.

Her body shook with tremors, her tears temporarily subsiding. He looked so fucking broken, so fragile. She was so confused by the feelings flowing through her. She should be scared of him, of his aggression. But she somehow wasn't.

"I don't want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you. I'm sorry," he apologized again as he stepped back from her, his somber eyes staring at the floor.

"Harry..." She whispered, pushing her body off the wall to stand of her own volition.

His eyes looked up into hers, two green orbs full of vulnerability and she knew she wanted to comfort him. She leaned in, kissing him softly on the lips.

It only took about two seconds before the fire was ignited in both of them. His hands tightening on her wrists, bringing them above her head as his mouth worked over hers, his tongue swirling against her own. Her desire for him was back after its temporary lapse. She wanted him so badly. She wanted only him.

"Oh, god," she gasped, trying to catch her breath as Harry's kisses trailed down her neck.

His left hand held her wrists tightly above her head as his right hand slipped into her shirt, caressing one of her breasts. At that point, she was certain she could come from just his touch.

"Fuck me, Harry," she pleaded desperately.

A guttural moan rumbled up inside of him and he let go of her wrists. Her arms came down, wrapping around his neck as they continued to kiss. He gripped her around her waist, picking her up and her legs instinctively circled around him.