Muse

Chapter Twenty Three

"Just admit it, you care about me." He growls, pulling away from our kiss. The air has shifted and I can't quite pin point the exact tension that's building. It's a mix of multiple emotions but the only one I can decipher is lust.

"No, shut up." I push my head forward to reconnect our lips and he gladly obliges, smashing his body into mine.

The bone crushing kiss quickly heats, my body tingles and dampens with sweat. Our breathing is nothing but short breathes when our lips part for only seconds. His tongue never pushes into my mouth and I don't force mine to maneuver into his either, the kisses are long, hard and sloppy, but passionate and sweet at the same time. I'm not sure how that works, maybe it's because he admitted something I had been dying to hear since the first time he touched me or maybe it's because I really do care about him.

"Addy, baby." He whispers against my lips. My eyes flutter open when I feel him kiss along my jaw, littering soft, open mouthed kisses, my favorite kind. His mouth is warm against my neck and I gasp at the feeling.

Any anger we both had has now vanished into thin air and I can tell now, he's showing me he really does care, in one of the few ways he knows how.

His teeth softly graze under my ear and he pushes my hair back with one of his hands, the chilling touch of his fingers brushing against my skin sending goosebumps all over my body. He sucks gently, but hard enough so it leaves a mark and I moan as he breaks the blood vessels beneath the soft skin.

"Harry, please." I whine, wanting more than anything for this frustration to subside. I need him.

My body is still trapped against the wall and his hand holds me at the hip, his other on the back of my head. He continues his gentle assault and my hands reach up and pull at his hair, the feeling even better than it's ever been before. I go from tugging on his hair to a tight grip on his shoulders, frantically pulling him closer, needing his body more than I ever have before.

"Patience, baby." He coos.

I feel butterflies under his touch and can't seem to catch my breathe. This might just be a simple make out session to him, but to me, it feels like a lot more. I can feel this new feeling bubbling up inside me and tugging at my heart, begging to be noticed. It's a foreign feeling and I can't help but assume it's the feeling you get when you're starting to fall in love.

Just imagine if I were to tell him I'm falling in love, he'd run away in the other direction, and truthfully, I wouldn't blame him. It's so soon, too soon to feel this way. We've only known each other for two weeks, but it feels like a lot longer. I warned myself dozens of times since the day I met him, I wouldn't do this to myself, that I wouldn't let things happen this way, that I wouldn't fall for him. But here I am, pressed against the wall by a boy with tattoos whom I'm starting to love.

I push his shoulders away and he looks at me with confusion. I go over the words I'm about to say in my mind at least twelve dozen times before I dare speak them. I'm ready to sleep with someone, to have sex with him.

"I- never mind." I smash my lips back into his too nervous to say the words out loud.

He doesn't question my sudden pause. His hands slide down my sides, curving along my body and cupping under my ass. I jump and wrap my legs around him, his hands under my thighs now and pressing me against the wall. Our bodies are meshed together and I can feel him rub against me between my legs, he's already hard.

"Take your shirt off." He begs and pulls away from my neck. I hook my fingers under my tank top and pull it over my head, throwing it onto the floor.

Our lips connect and once again and I scratch my nails into his upper back. He moans into the kiss and his hips buck into mine and I can't help but weaken at the feeling, a frustrated cry rumbling in my throat. My head tosses back and leans against the wall until he pulls me away from the support and walks us over to the bed laying me down.