Taste (H.S. / A.U.)

Chapter 66*

ELOISE DUPONT

Falling in love is never easy. Finding a soulmate? Even harder. Life is a never-ending cycle of setbacks, missteps, and lessons dressed up as failures. But every once in a while. if you're lucky enough... you stumble upon something rare. Someone rare. A soul that burns with a light so relentless, it refuses to dim no matter how dark the world gets.

Harry became that light, at least for me.

Of course, I was embarrassed. How could I not be? That's just who I am: flustered, awkward, hopelessly shy when it comes to attention. But I'd take the flushed cheeks, the bone-melting stammer in my chest, the uneven heartbeat, and even the deafening shrieks of a thousand fans if it meant getting to witness the way he looked at me.

That look, when he smiled at me like I was the only person in the room. The way he sang with his eyes locked on mine, like every lyric was a vow. The way he chose me, again and again, in the quiet spaces between the chaos. What we have is rare. Maybe it didn't start off as some fairytale, me drunkenly throwing myself at him for a random hook up in a hotel room as a rebound... but over time, in the sacred in-betweens, I realized something.

Harry wasn't just someone I fell for. He was the person I had been searching for without even knowing it. The soulmate I thought only existed in poems or dreams. The love I expected my parents to have. The love I saw in the films I obsessed over in movies. The love that everyone pines for on those lonely evenings when the night is too long, the silence is too loud, and your thoughts get the better of you. But not anymore, because now, here he was, real, tangible, mine.

His body slowly approached me. His hands rested on the mattress, his frame rising and falling as he crawled toward me. Knelt at the foot of the bed, eyes locked on mine, and pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses up my legs.

Worshipping me.

Every inch of me ached with the truth: I had found my love.

And somehow, impossibly, he had found me too.

His muscles contracted tight in his abdomen, I tried not to stare but it deemed impossible with how beautiful he was. The bathroom light left on illuminated us, mostly him. I could see the etching of his dark tattoos on warm golden skin that gleamed. He was heavenly, his muscles, his smile between sloppy kisses, his moans, the way he practically panted my name. He was ecstasy and I was sucked in.

Our kisses continued deepening, his hand holding at the back of my neck to pull me in flush. He needed and wanted me as desperately as I did him. That's what made us work, the fact it was mutual in every possible way, the ways in which we yearned for one another. 

The transition from standing, where he pried away a majority of my clothes before pushing me back to the bed was quick, his frame towering over mine while he climbed above me still taking off his own layers. Warm hands rubbed over my skin while his moans were vibrating at my skin between kisses and bites that dotted my chest and stomach.

In time I've learned many things about Harry in the bedroom. I learned he is very open sexually, whether it is to try new things, new partners, new positions, anything. I learned he loves pleasing and that gives him more satisfaction than receiving more often. I learned he loves when I am vocal, which makes sense because I appreciate that about him as well. I also learned he is wildly insatiable and wanting to forever be trapped together in this blissful state of tangled together moments.

Hooking a finger of his around the band of my panties I felt a small snap, removing to instead rub his knuckle over me. "You're already wet for me."

It wasn't a question. We both knew how quickly my body reacted to him. I take one look at that smile, those deep eyes, melt into the dimple, hear the accent, any of it was enough to make a girl swoon. I was no better than any other fan girl who fantasized about the hot guy I saw on stage.