1 week later...
I could feel the heat of his body on mine beneath the sheets. It was nearing 7pm, the light outside dimming gradually as time went on and another icy, winter night set in beyond the walls of my heated apartment.
Although I was in my warmest woolly pyjamas and he was fully clothed, I felt closer to him than I ever had. I felt like his best friend, as we spent the entire day cuddled in my double bed watching corny Christmas movies, eating Chinese take-out and talking about everything, anything and nothing in particular.
"I fucking love hot chocolate," Harry sighed as he gulped back his mouthful, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the top of the bed. "I love this movie, too."
I nodded, curling closer into his side, my fingers wrapped securely around my warm mug as I tried to focus on the large plasma screen on my bedroom wall.
I couldn't pay attention properly. Harry had his hand around me, his grip resting lazily on my hip, his thumb stroking little patterns into my skin where my vest had ridden up slightly. He was making my skin tingle, and that familiar dull ache had already begun between my legs.
"Have you ever been there?" he asked, pointing at the screen. Little Macaulay Culkin, dressed in his anorak and bobble hat was making his way innocently through central park, before spotting that weird bird woman who had always freaked me out a little bit. Home Alone 2 - 'incredible, absolute classic' as Harry had described it.
"Of course," I replied, trailing my fingers gently down his torso over his Jack Wills t-shirt, trying to inconspicuously communicate my want for his body all over mine. "It looks beautiful in the snow."
He nodded, taking another swig of his hot chocolate, my touch going seemingly unnoticed. I'd have to take it up a notch.
"You've really got a lovely place here," he said politely, glancing around my large bedroom, the huge bay window that overlooked the city now blocked out by thick, purple curtains, sheltering us off from the rest of world. It made the room feel closed off, private, and a little cosier.
"You know," I murmured huskily, my voice thick with frustration at his ignorance of my need, "this is the bed where we had sex for the first time..."
A devilish smile broke over his features. "So it is." He exhaled as he recalled the unforgettable night as our drunken bodies had come together, colliding perfectly, gracefully. The start of everything between us. "Great night, that was."
I grinned, letting my fingertips pad up his front, over his pecks, and down his arms. I brushed my touch gently over his exposed biceps, and to my delight he shuddered visibly, tiny goose bumps arising under my contact. I smirked with satisfaction.
He seemed to latch on to my mood, his fingers trailing up my back in a heavenly teasing way, his touch more fervent than before. He was driving me crazy. I could feel myself get wetter for him as he licked his lips temptingly.
"Are you doing much over the holidays?" he asked, a wicked smile tugging at his lips. He knew I couldn't stand it when he made me wait, so he teased me with small talk, prolonging it for as long as possible before finally granting me the physical contact I craved.
"Nothing," I snapped in reply, "I'll probably spend it by myself, like usual." I blurted out the truth without thinking, my mind whirring, hurrying my responses on so we could cut to the important parts.
His face fell a little, his gaze becoming concerned, his hands no longer teasing my skin. "Why on your own? Won't you go back to New Jersey to see your family?"
I froze, my stomach churning uneasily as I realised I'd brought on all the questions I didn't want to answer. I hadn't wanted him to query it. I hadn't intended to tell him. The familiar stinging behind my eyes erupted as it did every time this topic came up. I shifted uncomfortably in his arms, sniffing to stop myself from sobbing.
