Harry Styles, a secret service agent working for British intelligence is tasked with finding the killer after a series of brutal but calculated murders across Europe. His mind is sharp, he's smart, arrogant and works with a precision that leaves no...
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Winter.
Harry and I couldn't keep our hands off each other.
We were like magnets. There was this inescapable feeling that constantly pulled us together with a force I didn't know was possible. I couldn't be away from him. I'd never felt anything like it before. Being apart, even if we were just across the room, left me feeling hollow, like a part of my body had been carved out and taken away with him. It was consuming. I wondered if I'd finally lost my mind, if I was truly insane. This couldn't be normal. How could a person need someone else like this?
But I wasn't alone in it. He felt it too. I saw it in the way he always reached for me, touched me, pulled me into his arms like he couldn't stand the idea of there being a space between us. Like there was nothing worse than being in a different room.
We returned home from visiting his parents a few days ago, and since then, the world had gone terrifyingly still. Like there was a deceptive sort of peace that hung in the air. Everything was too quiet and too calm. Like the sky before a storm. But I didn't want to think about it, I couldn't. I only focused on him. For once in my life I was happy. Truly, overwhelmingly happy. And every time I looked at him, I felt so stupidly lucky that every fear and worry in the back of my mind faded into nothing.
It was naive, irresponsible probably, to let myself get swept away in this warmth and this feeling when there was a danger that was still very much present, circling us like prey that hadn't yet pounced. But I didn't care. I didn't have time to spiral because I didn't have time to be alone with my thoughts. We woke up together and fell asleep together and we spent every second of the day wrapped up in each other like the world didn't exist beyond the other person.
This morning I awoke into the soft brush of his lips against my shoulder. His body was curled around mine with one arm tucked across my waist, and his breath warm against my skin. I stopped wearing his shirts to bed. Instead, we both just slept in our underwear. There was something about filling his bare skin against mine that neither of us could resist. Made us feel closer even when we were both asleep. It was so strange. I used to crave solitude. I used to believe that I wasn't made for closeness, I'd never shared a bed, my mind, nor my heart with anyone. Six months ago I would've completely recoiled at the thought of being this vulnerable and close. Of letting someone see me in my quiet soft moments. Of letting someone see me exist. I didn't think I was capable of this, whatever this was. But now I couldn't imagine ever going back to the way things were before him.
Harry kissed along my shoulder with lazy affection until he noticed that I was awake, and I tilted my face towards his so that our lips could meet. I could never get enough of the way that he touched me, the way that he looked at me. And soon, his kisses trailer down my collarbone, my breasts, my stomach. Eventually I'd spent the first part of my morning with my legs over his shoulders and his head buried between my legs.
Afterwards we showered together taking turns to wash each other's hair, our fingers danced across each other's skin. It was so perfectly intimate in a way that made my chest ache. Until I found myself down on my knees for him, wishing to hear him in pleasure in the same way he'd had me only an hour before.
