Notorious

Tantalize

It's a soft morning glow filtering in through the curtains that wakes me and it's tan skin and a tattooed chest that brings a dopey grin to my face.

I don't bother lifting my head for a while, just tracing his swallow tattoos and one of his nipples –one of his four nipples, as I has discovered last night. A quality that might have wierded me out had it been anyone else but Harry.

But, it is Harry and even if he had a third arm I would find some way to think it was endearing.

And when I do lift my head and place my chin on his chest to I can barely contain myself.

Because his pink lips are popped open with soft snores falling from his mouth and his long curls are tangled and bunched up on one side and his head is tilted down slightly as if he was watching me before he fell asleep and god I hate him.

I hate him because I really don't hate him at all.

And I really, really should.

Everything with Amanda, leading me on, and that comment about my mom last night should make me crawl out of bed before he even notices. Should have made me not get in this bed at all.

But, then I remember his nervous confession last night and it blurs my anger... slightly.

Regardless, I find myself pulling myself from his grip –with great effort because he was holding on like a vice- and scrambling from the bed.

In the light of day I am able to asses Harry's room and how immaculate it is –modern black and white furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows the reveal the city below, and clothes scattered all along the floor.

I blush immensely when I see my clothes strewn along the hardwood, but realizing that they hadn't dried properly from the rain and probably smell like wet dog, I grab one of the many button up shirts surrounded by it.

However, bending over proves to be quite painful considering how sore I am from last night and suddenly I am remembering his darkened eyes and demanding words and harsh thrusts and I am beginning to get myself worked up all over again.

I have to scurry from the room quickly when I look back to see Harry's white sheets hung dangerously low on his hips before I decide to repeat last night.

The rest of his flat is almost exactly like mine layout-wise, except... more cold and empty. He only has the bare necessities –no pictures, no artwork, no personal belongings of any kind and it makes me wonder about Harry's personal life for the first time since I have known him.

I know close to nothing about him and that is a huge problem that needs to be addressed ASAP.

I step into the kitchen –black and white to keep with the theme of course- and am overjoyed and confused –considering his obsession with tea- to see a coffee pot on the island.

At least you did something right, Styles.

While waiting for the coffee to brew I can't help but go over everything that happened last night and berate myself for sleeping with him so easily. After everything he has said and done I fell into bed with him after just one confession.

I am a weak human. Weak when it comes to him at least.

Even though he was so vulnerable and open last night, how will he act today? Will he cast me aside? Pretend his confession never happened? Not want anything to do with me since he already got what he wanted?

I hear a door open in the distance and I know I am about to get my answer.

Harry comes fumbling down the hallway with tangled hair and dressed only in briefs and he's whipping his head side to side, eyes frantic. It's only when he peeps around the corner that he sees me and lets out a relieved sigh.