MORE (Completed)

Chapter 11

HPOV

Of all the things I expected her to do or say, this was definitely not it.

I was prepared for a slap, a shove, maybe a sharp "What the hell are you doing?" Something dramatic. But not this.

"Harry..." Her voice is low and certain. "Let's go to yours."

I blink. "Are you sure?"

She nods, breathless but resolved. "Yes. Let's go now, before I change my mind."

Before I can process it, she leans in again, gripping my collar and pulling me closer, her lips finding mine with urgency. I curse the fact that we're in a car, this damn partition between us like some cruel joke. Her mouth is soft, warm, greedy — velvet heat and longing. Her tongue meets mine, tentative at first, but quickly emboldened. The fire in my chest roars to life.

Her fingers weave into my hair, then glide down to cup my jaw, lingering there with tenderness. She drags them lower, over my chest, her touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Her eyes stay on mine, pupils dark, drinking me in. She bites my lip gently, then kisses me again, deeper.

God, she's driving me insane.

I've imagined this. Over and over. Since the first moment I saw her — on that sun-drenched beach, her bandana tucked into her windswept hair, Ray-Bans hiding those eyes, that stunning body moving with quiet confidence. And that bikini — Jesus. I thought I might combust when we went diving. My boner was so obvious Niall couldn't stop teasing me for hours.

But when I realized she wasn't just a passing beauty — when I saw her speak about her work, with passion and grit and fire — that sealed it. She wasn't just gorgeous. She was purpose. She had drive. She wasn't impressed by the fame or the flash. She knew how to wield it, how to use it for something bigger.

I knew about the age gap. I knew what people might say. But I didn't care. I've always been drawn to women who know themselves — women who don't play games, who don't waste time with shallow things. Ashley is all of that. And more.

Competing with the ghost of a man she clearly adored? That, I didn't plan on. But she's worth it. Every inch of her. Every breath.

"Come on," I murmur against her lips. "Let's go."

I slide out of the car and rush to her side, but she's already stepping out. I steady her gently, palm at the small of her back. We move quickly. No cameras in sight. I press her against the side of the car, needing another kiss — long, deep, and unrelenting. She moans softly into my mouth, and my hand slides up her thigh, skin warm under her dress.

"Harry..." she whispers, panting. "Let's just go."

I don't need to hear it twice.

We hurry into the lift, invisible in the quiet luxury of the hotel. I glance at her, and there's no doubt left. The hesitation is gone. She's fire now — not the polished professor, but a woman burning from the inside out.

At the door, I fumble with the key, finally get it open, and pull her inside. Her hands are on me instantly. Her mouth, urgent.

"Wait..." I slow her down, gently stilling her hands in mine. "Ash... slow down."

She freezes, flustered. "Okay... sorry."

I shake my head. "Don't be. I just want to take my time with you."

I drop my jacket and slowly pull off my shirt, giving her a moment. Her eyes trace every inch of me, a flush rising in her cheeks as she breathes me in. I approach her slowly, fingers brushing over her shoulders as I circle behind her, pulling her back against me so she can feel exactly what she's doing to me.