No Control (Book 1)

63. Don't Forget Where You Belong

I woke up the following morning to Harry pressed up behind me, softly kissing my neck. I lay there with my eyes closed, enjoying the softness of his lips on my skin. He slid his arm around my waist and I felt him poke my back with something that had definitely not been there a few minutes earlier.

"Harry," I murmured, and I felt his hand creep up the front of my vest top. "Someone might walk in," I protested.

"No one will walk in," he whispered, and I closed my eyes again and let his hands do as they pleased.

When he reached into his bedside drawer for a condom I started to roll over to face him but he stopped me. "Stay where you are," he murmured, and the sound of his first-thing-in-the-morning voice sent a shiver down my spine. I stayed facing away from him and a minute later I felt him slowly push into me and I buried my face in the pillow. He was hitting just the right spot, and when I felt his hand slip between my legs I lost control and bit down on my own thumb in an attempt to keep quiet. A few thrusts later he stiffened and groaned softly into my neck, pulling me tightly back against his chest as he finished.

I could feel his heart thumping as he breathed deeply into my hair, and I found his hand under the covers with mine and twisted my fingers into his.

"I don't think I will ever get tired of doing that with you," he said softly.

"I should hope not," I teased, and turned my head so I could kiss him.

"I mean it," he said.

"So do I," I replied, and he rolled his eyes and laid his head down on the pillow beside me.

I squeezed his hand. "Sorry I can't be serious when you want me to be," I said. "I think it's an illness or something."

He chuckled softly and I felt his hot breath on my neck. "I'll get over it."

"You shouldn't have to," I sighed. "I'm a dick. I'm sorry."

He squeezed my hand back. "You're not, don't be silly."

I brought our interlocked hands up out of the bed and lifted his fingers to my lips and kissed them, before holding them out in front of my face and studying his hands.

"You have really sexy hands," I remarked.

"Do I?" he said, sounding confused.

"Yes," I nodded. "Not that that should come as a surprise, considering everything about you is sexy."

"Shut up," he said in an embarrassed voice.

"Oh my God are you serious?" I mocked. "Don't pretend you don't know."

"I know what people say, but I don't get it," he said into my hair, his voice shy and muffled.

"Course not," I said, rolling my eyes. "Cos you didn't have a clue what you were doing last night, giving me those intense looks that near enough made me collapse." I lifted our hands up in front of my face again and gently played with his fingers, softly stroking them with mine.

"Yeah I know that works on you," he said. "You're my girlfriend - I'd be worried if it didn't."

I turned my head to look at him. "No one else has ever had this sort of effect on me," I said. "This isn't normal. Well, maybe for you it is. The Harry Styles effect. But it's not for me. I shouldn't be reduced to a quivering wreck every time you look at me."

"But you are?"

"Harry - you got me to beg for it last night," I stated. "What more proof do you need?"

He smirked at me and I turned my head back round and laid on the pillow again.

"That's enough now," I said. "I'm not stroking your ego any more today."