Captive Of Lies Book 2(Imprisoned in my Heart trilogy...Larry)

Chapter 1

There was nothing like waking up in bed beside someone you cared about more than anything – even if you had been awoken by their loud snoring. When Louis opened his eyes to the soft sound of Harry snoring right in his ear, he just smiled fondly and curled up closer into his side. On some mornings, when he was tired, Louis would have grumpily poked him until he rolled over and stopped making the noises, but he was in a good mood that morning, and the sound brought him a weird sense of comfort.

“I love you, you idiot,” he whispered fondly.

Harry’s only response was a particularly loud snore that sounded like the kind of noise a pig might make, and Louis choked, clapping a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. He traced a few circles on Harry’s bare back, down his spine, spiralling across his ribs and forming intricate patterns on his stomach. He played join the dots with Harry’s ribs, leaving invisible lines and feeling his hand tingling wherever he touched the warm skin.

He’d been doing that for about five minutes when Harry caught his hand and held it, stopping him in his tracks. Louis jumped, shocked, and then felt a smile sprawl across his face.

“If you don’t mind,” Harry murmured sleepily, “I’m trying to sleep, and that’s incredibly distracting.”

His morning voice was low, tired and ridiculously sexy, and Louis couldn’t help but grin at him. “Oh, it just so happens that I do mind. Come here, you.” He reached for Harry’s hips, grabbed them, and hauled Harry towards him, kissing his neck lightly several times.

“Louuuu,” Harry protested, eyes still closed, weakly trying to push him away. “I’m asleep!”

“Wake up, then, sleepyhead,” Louis teased, “because I’m not stopping for anyone. Or anything.”

“Don’t do this to me.”

“You have to, Harry. I know it’s hard, but if you love me, you’d leave your bed for me. Which of us means more to you?” Louis slid a hand suggestively down Harry’s spine.

Groaning, Harry swatted him away, rolled over and buried his face in the pillow.

“Charming,” Louis muttered. “I’m getting breakfast. You want any?”

Harry made an indistinct noise into Louis’ pillow.

Tutting fondly, Louis slid out of bed and pattered barefoot into the kitchen, wincing at the feel of the cool tiles underneath his toes. Once he was in there, he started attempting to make a piece of toast without burning the kitchen down, although he met with limited success. The toaster itself didn’t catch fire, but the bread did, and when Harry came rushing through wearing only his boxers, with his hair standing on end, Louis was walloping a flaming piece of bread with a wet tea towel and crumbs were flying in every direction.

“Louis!” Harry shrieked, reaching for a glass of water and pouring it messily all over the bread, which extinguished with a hiss.

Louis gave him an injured look. “What? I was putting it out.”

“Yeah, of course you were. That’s why the tea towel is also on fire,” Harry said pointedly.

Yelping, Louis hurled the smoking towel into the sink and turned on the tap, water thundering down and knocking the flames out of existence.

“It’s official: you’re the world’s worst cook,” Harry announced dramatically. “How did you ever cope without me?”

“I don’t often set my breakfast on fire,” Louis retorted crossly.

“No, you usually just throw it all over the room.”

“That was one time – I tripped!”