Dead Flowers | H.S.

Chapter Nine

My world was dark, peaceful. I was consumed with slumber, tired bones resting and sore muscles recuperating. Rain drizzled on my bedroom window and I kept my eyes closed, too warm, too complacent to move.

Beside me, like each night since we had met, Harry was lying on his side, one arm trapped under my neck and the other freely ghosting over the exposed skin of my thighs. His fingers were calloused, long and they felt good against the cushiony parts of my legs.

The fan churned humid air around my room and somewhere in the house, the dishwasher hummed. My home was empty-all except for Harry and I, who ritually were the two who occupied it.

"How did I live before this?" Harry's voice roused me from a film-like dream playing before my closed eyes. I listened carefully, not moving. "How did I live so long without you?"

The gentle fingers that had been grazing over my thighs moved up to my face, where they swept across my cheeks and the tip of my nose. I wanted to move into his touch, but I stayed in my place, wondering if he would say more.

"You're everything. You're everything." Then his lips had replaced his hands and he was kissing my jaw, my cheeks so gently that his kisses wouldn't have even disturbed a sleeping infant. My throat constricted-I wondered how long he had been speaking without my recognition.

The thought of Harry staying up after I had already fallen asleep was intoxicating to me-someone loved me enough, someone adored me enough, someone cared about me enough to watch me rest, to tell me their secrets while I dreamed.

Perhaps I should've woken up and pressed my lips to his, feigned innocence. For a moment, I thought about reaching between his legs, touching the one place on his body I had yet to hold. I thought of the way his breathing would hitch and the grip he would hold on my wrist. I thought about gently kissing his throat and breathing into his open mouth as he melted into a goo in the pit of my hand.

"I want to be yours. Maybe for eternity."

I didn't move, but still thought about it. Maybe if I stayed still enough, he would tell me that he loved me.

"I wish I knew everything about you," he whispered, "but we have the rest of our lives for that, don't we?"

Yes. We do.

"I'm in love with you."

Every nerve end in my body was set aflame, goose bumps flooded my skin, my throat ached, and I wanted to scream that I loved him too, but I slept on.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," Harry muttered to himself, kissing my shoulders tentatively, "it feels so good to finally say."

I stirred, burrowing myself into his chest, inhaling him. He froze for a moment, unaware of whether or not I was awake. I held him against me, tight, secure, safe. I tried to remember the last time I had held someone, tried to remember the last time someone had spoken to me while I was sleeping. Then I realized that less than six months ago, I had held Ryder to my chest-yet, I had not felt the way then that I felt about Harry. The shred of admiration I had for Ryder shriveled in comparison to the gargantuan affection I had for Harry.

"Jane?" Harry's voice was hardly above a whisper.

Again, I thought of reaching between his legs, giving him back every ounce of pleasure he had ever given me.