Sympathy for the Devil | harry styles

Chapter 6

I'm really sorry for the late update !!! I'm living now in New York :D i feel happy though. But anyways. Enjoy!

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The air was thick in her small lungs as she tried to breathe normally while his long fingers stroked her cheek, salty from dried tears.

He couldn't understand her. He would give her everything she wanted, yet she was scared of him; but he couldn't deny, a part of him liked the fact that he frightened her.

"Angela?" he spoke oh so slowly and gently, extremly mesmerized by the beauty in front of him, by the softness of her skin he couldn't stop touching.

"Huh?" She raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows at the sudden sound of his husky voice, changed into a sweet melody just for her.

"Kiss me baby," he whispered with his sugary breath blowing on her pink lips since he was so close to her; ready for her kiss.

No. She didn't want to even look at him, especially not kiss him. She remembered the crashing kiss he shared with that girl at the party when Barbara was God knows where. And now he selfishly wanted to kiss her, but she wouldn't let that happen.

Her head moved to the right side to avoid his lips, swallowing a hard lump in her throat.

"I don't want to kiss you," she spoke silently, playing with her fingers nervously.

She could hear him taking a sharp breath in through his nostrils, as he was trying to calm down, as he took a step back, away from her.

Who the hell was she to deny him? Who the hell was she to move her lips away from his when he wanted to be close to her?
His fists tightened at his sides, knuckles cracking and blood boiling, he wanted to control himself better. He didn't want to hurt her...yet.

"Why?" he growled extremely interested in finding a good reason behind her refusal. Why was she denying him? Angela of all girls?

"Because I respect your girlfriend and I don't want to be like that girl at the party. I'm not someone you can control," she answered honestly and confidently, arms crossing on her small chest, dark brown eyes finally looking at him.

He was furious, and a suddden urge to hit something, anything sprouted lethally into his system. He wanted to hit her, to hurt her.
The veins started to appear on his arms and neck, muscles tight under his t-shirt; his raspberry lips pressed into a tight line.

"Stop. Talking. About. Barbara," he snarled at Angela, hating to hear things anything that concerned Barbara.
She didn't mean anything but good fuck whenever he needed it, and he hated the fact that Angela mentioned her every single time he tried something with her.

She didn't want him because of Barbara.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't."

He came closer to her again, reaching with his big hand to grasp her cheek. Cupping it gently, he watched her lean into his touch.

She gave in. Finally.

Harry only wanted her lips on his, her sweet breath mixed with his, tongues dancing, skin sticking together. He wanted her so badly, she was the reason he stopped thinking about everything that had plagued him before she came into his life, lighting it up.

He leaned in to crash his lips onto hers, but her fingers pressed against his soft lips, stopping him.
If she had to kiss him she'd do it slowly, unlike the girl at the party; she wanted to be different.