The bright light is blinding me as it shines through the sheer curtains; I try to keep my eyes screwed shut to fall back to sleep, but the headache erupting in my head is making it hard to fall back to sleep. I ball my fists up, and I rub my eyes to help them adjust to my surroundings. I look down at my body, and I notice that I am still not wearing a shirt or bra, and the strong, tan arm is holding me tightly, making sure I don't go.
I can feel a layer of sweat connecting my back to his chest; it's scorching in this room, even with the lack of clothes I'm wearing. I try to move, but his grip on me only hardens. I reach for my phone that's next to my pillow, and the time reads almost 11 in the morning already. I look down at the top of Harry's wrist, and I trace the anchor tattoo that's residing there. His hand jerks with my sudden movements, and I smile softly.
He moves his heavy arm off of my body, and I'm able to move freely. I move on my other side to stare at him, and he's stretching his arms over his head; his abs peek through his torso as he flexes. Fuck, he's so hot. My mouth falls open as I continue to look at the muscles contracting all over his body, and I wet my bottom lip with my tongue. His mouth opens in an exaggerated yawn, and he runs one of his hands through his messy curls. I scoot closer to him, placing my head on his chest.
"Good morning, beautiful." His voice is extra deep in the morning, with a hint of raspiness underneath the tone. My whole body raises in temperature with the compliment, and I throw the comforter off my body to get some coolness. I roll out of bed, softly padding into the bathroom that's connected to his bedroom. I look at myself in the mirror, and I notice new, small light purple marks over my chest. I look under the sink, and I find an unopened toothbrush; I use it on myself, trying to get rid of the morning breath I woke up with. After I finish freshening up, I walk back out into the room where Harry is flipping through channels on the television.
"Good morning, handsome," I finally reply. He flashes me a bright smile, and I walk over to my clothes from yesterday that are on the floor. Strapping on my bra and putting on my white v-neck, I hop onto the bed next to him. He leans in to kiss me, but I place my hands in front of me, pushing his chest away. "Uh, no way.. You have morning breath," I giggle.
"So?" He snaps.
"That's gross.." I scrunch my nose up.
He looks at me, dumbfoundedly as if I'm the only person in the world who is not okay with tasting his foul breath. "You're such a child," he blankly says, and my jaw falls open. He removes himself from the bed, stomping into the bathroom. His condescending words have pissed me off. That is one of my pet peeves: when someone calls me childish or thinks I'm immature just because I don't agree or have a different opinion on something. It's ridiculous. Instead of rushing out of here and slamming the door behind me "like a child," I decide to make him pay for what he said. I remove my shirt and his boxers from my body. I'm left in my black lace bra and underwear set from Victoria's Secret. I lay flat on the bed and spread my legs slightly, waiting for him. I hear the sink in the bathroom turn off, and I focus my attention on the television in front of me. The door opens up, and I can see his lean figure through my peripheral vision. "Holy fuck," he groans as he looks at me.
I move my eyes to him, and he's adjusting the growing bulge in his boxers. I smirk as I take in his uneasy state. "What?" I ask, trying to act innocent.
He rushes over to me, getting on the bed in front of me. He runs his thick hands up my legs, goosebumps erupting on my golden skin. "You look so sexy.." He kisses my calves and moves up to kiss the inside of my thighs. He bites down softly on the skin, but I keep my hard glare on him, trying hard to suppress the pleasure enveloping my fibers. "So soft.. so sweet.." He growls against me, continuously pecking my skin.
