Black Temptation

Chapter 24

*KENZIE'S POV*

Still ecomopassed in darkness, I feel around the bedding. Everything feels the same, but I don't. My head hurts like hell. Eyes flutter open and I subtly yawn into it.

"Good Morning, Princess." Harry says, legs manly crossed, looking above the newspaper before folding it up.

"Yep, right back atcha....Wait-What are you doing in my house?"

"..This is actually my house." He laughs. My vision is still blurred but I can make out the difference. A dark blue color backs his plasma that hangs high in the wall. Black wood dresser and grey tile floors give his room a mysterious feel. And he doesn't have a balcony. White sheets and white pillow cases, all stiff and comforting. Empty picture frames make me scrunch in confusion, I freeze at a sudden thought, scrambling out of the covers.

I pat myself down to see that I still have my clothes on, sighing in relief.

"Don't worry. You didn't give yourself to me, well you wouldn't let me have you. Even as drunk as you were." He pauses. "I'me making breakfast and got you a trashcan. I didn't take you home because I've heard that dealing with a hangover is better when you have someone to hold your hair while you throw up...many, many times."

I hesitantly smirk and he nods.

"I guess my approach wasn't so responsible." I slur.

Susan's exact words. Uh, Susan. I said I wouldn't drink in remembrance of what happened to her that night. Well...I can say I resisted. Right?

I sloppily drag my feet to the the mirror and check my neck to see if anything cut the skin, if I'm marked as number six, but all I see is the silhouette of a patch of hickeys.

"So, food downstairs. You. Good. Ok. Leaving." Harry says, walking out. He comes back and grabs the door before it closes. "You can change into some of my smaller things if you'd like to get out of those clothes." He smirks and makes his way downstairs, the door closing.

I rub my eyes and saunter towards his big, black wood dresser. Opening the top, I pick a white button up and some shorts.

Minutes later, I'm washed, groomed, and lively half-awake, some alcohol still draining from my body. I quietly make my way down the large silver, spiral steps, five of me could fit the length, to see Harry flipping pancakes and grilling bacon. The mirrors that cover the entire grey wall to my right greet my wobbly body when the aroma of food slides me into a mere state of unconsciousness but that is soon replaced by the view of Harry's muscles, tensing and relaxing as he adds batter, flips, and takes the baked batter out. That tank top does him injustice.

Now, my cravings aren't bacon...

Licking my lips, I try to calm my racing pulse. He is delicious...

"You're even cuter when you stare." Harry says, looking back at me, smiling. I shy away from his gaze and walk on the equally grey tile floors, passing a grand chandelier that hangs above black specced granite counter tops harboring black cases that hold empty necklace placers. Weird. I continue to walk, my reflection following me until I hit the gourmet kitchen, taken aback by its beauty. Similar granite tops surround only two sides of the massive island counter top while the same flooring welcomes the same color walls.

Turning my back, I take the opportunity to take some of his convenient Tylenol and OJ, pouring it into a clean glass from the basket.

My waist is soon embraced in strong arms, almost making me choke on the juice.

"Who said you could have any?" He whispers into my ear.

"That empty bottle you left at my house."