"Styles, meet FBI Agent Caroline Forbes. She will be on your case and with you every day until she gathers more evidence and can turn you in, or you confess," the Sheriff informs me as I glance from him back to her, and she gives me a polite smile...
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"And, you can't," I breath out between kisses, Harry's hands roaming freely on my body over the console of the car, "you can't tell anyone what we did yesterday."
"Does that mean," Harry pulls away from my lips, eyes half lidded with lust, "I can't tell anyone what we're still doing right now? And what we haven't really stopped doing all night and this morning too?"
I cup at the inappropriate man's cheeks and squish them so he'll shut up, his lips pursed out involuntarily as his face is distorted, looking really cute. He begins to make obnoxious kissy sounds, and I let out a giggle as I press my lips on his once more, keeping an eye around our surroundings to make sure no one is watching.
"Now go, you'll be late for your therapy appointment and I'll be late for the sheriff's meeting," I tell him, letting go of his cheeks and pushing away at his chest for him to get down from the car, the smile from yesterday still plastered on my face.
Though this morning, the smile is partly masking some angst I've been carrying ever since the sheriff called me for a meeting without explanation, and he sounded a little odd. I don't want to worry Harry, and I don't want to come off like I regret anything we did, but I don't see how I can handle the mess in my head alone.
I almost wish I was the one going to therapy.
Harry's lanky limbs carry him out of the car, but before he shuts the passenger door, he pokes his head through, leaning his arm on the open door, scanning his surroundings then studying me with a growing smirk.
He makes sure to whisper just in case anyone is around, a mischievous thrill in his eyes as he confesses again, "I love you, Agent Caroline Forbes."
The anticipation he has every time he's told me that makes me want to hug him and never let go from how sweet he is about it. He gets so excited every time he says it, his face priceless. It's something I never thought I would see; it's the real Harry underneath the many layers of asshole, under his façade. He's more like a cuddly teddy bear, and I'm the only one who knows about it.
"I love you too, Harry," I mean it, radiating up at the first guy I've ever said I love.
You think that saying those three simple words will just slip out in any long-going relationship. You think that, yes, when it's the first time, it'll mean a lot and bring you closer. And every time you say it afterwards, for most people, it comes out in such a casual way, it's normal. At least that is how I imagined it would be when the right man came along.
Yet, saying with Harry and repeating it makes my heart swell every single time, it hasn't gotten to that casual phase and I hope it doesn't. To be honest, I didn't even know how extensive my feelings for him were until he told me he loved me. That's when I could finally match words to describe my what my feelings are for him.
