Olivia
By the time I leave Harry's room, I'm fuming. To think, I actually felt bad for him. I felt sympathy that he's had to harbor these feelings on his own for so long. I wanted to talk to him and try to figure out how we can get past this. How we can make his feelings for me go away and go back to being friends. But then he has the nerve to try to tell me how I feel? Arrogantly telling me that I'm staring at him? Please. If anything, I was uncomfortable. With a 6 foot tall, muscular, tattooed, half naked guy in front of you, where are you supposed to look? Last night he immediately put a shirt on and covered up. He was respectful. But today he was definitely flaunting himself. He knows how he looks. He knows the effect he has on most girls. Hell, women of all ages. He broke out the dimples and the smirk, thinking I would immediately melt at his feet. But that just shows how little he actually knows. He thinks he's some expert on me and my relationship with Liam for some reason. That we're rushing into moving in together. But if he thinks he can make me betray Liam that easily, he clearly knows nothing.
By the time I get down the hall to my room, I'm still angry but I try to push it away the best I can. Liam can read me like a book and I don't have it in me right now to come up with a lie. Part of me just wants to say fuck it and tell him what Harry told me. It would serve him right for being such a conceited asshole. But from the conversation we just had, he'd probably just try to twist everything that happened last night to make it look like I did something wrong. That I led him on. No. I have to keep this to myself.
When I open the door I call for Liam but I he's nowhere in sight. I take in my surroundings a little more and notice that the bathroom door is closed and I can hear the water running. Immediately it gives me an idea. I walk into the bathroom confidently and see that he's facing away from me, rinsing shampoo from his hair and softly singing to himself. I don't even pause to undress before I open the door and step inside. He looks back at me, a pleasantly surprised look on his face but he doesn't have time to say anything before I grab his jaw in my hand and pull his lips down to mine. I slip my tongue into his mouth and press my body against his, making it very clear what's on my mind. He gets up to speed quickly, pulling my soaked t-shirt off roughly and tossing it in a ball on the floor of the shower. I take a little satisfaction at the act, showing just how little I care about that damn t-shirt Harry was so convinced meant something. Liam's hands run down my body, brushing the side of my bare breasts before moving down to the waistband of my shorts. He reaches his hand in and I back up against the wall so I have something to brace myself against while his rough fingers rub my middle. I don't even try to control my moans. Who cares if someone hears.
After what feels like a very short time he stops his movements, making me whine at the loss of contact. He just gives me a grin before pulling my shorts and panties down the rest of the way. He wastes no time after I step out of them and kick them to the side before his mouth is back on mine and his hands are planted firmly on my ass. He keeps one hand on my hip while letting the other trail down my leg. When he reaches the crook of my knee he pulls my leg up to wrap around his waist. I take that as my cue to wrap my arms around his neck and put my other leg around him so now he's holding me. I think he's going to take me right there but he surprises me by opening the shower door and leading me back out into the bedroom, dripping water all the way. The couch is closer to the bathroom than the bed so he deposits me there, still leaning over me and kissing my lips hungrily. When he finally pulls away he quickly goes to get a condom from the nightstand, ripping it open roughly with his teeth and rolling it on. He practically dives back on top of me and I wrap my arms and legs around him so we both fit on the small couch. He plunges into me, his movements torturously slow at first. I move my hands to his hips, indicating the pace I want and he easily obliges. When I let go, he keeps going and I move my hands to hold onto the couch to steady myself. Again, I'm not shy about my volume. The steam of curses, moans, and his name doesn't end until we're done, leaving us both in a wet, panting heap.
