*Story Contains Mature and Explicit Content*
[COMPLETED]
"Strangers in the dark can change your life in the light."
"As I reach the front door I can't help the same question swimming around in my mind, what could possibly be on all of those tapes?"
...
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You're either gonna love me or hate me for this chapter.
"The way you make me feel You really turn me on You knock me off of my feet My lonely days are gone"
***
I hope one of these days, I won't be left laying speechless under Harry, but today is not that day.
I wish I could show him how much he thrills and excites me, what his words do to me but it's like my brain shuts down, my shyness cripples my confidence and I feel incompetent in front of him.
For some reason, that only seems to encourage him, like he's trying to drag my reactions out of me, work me up to the point that I'm high out of my conciousness and can react the way I really want to.
I'm not at that point right now though, I'm still disabled by everything he's said and that look in his eye.
It's like staring head on at a freight train waiting for it to hit you.
Harry presses a quick kiss to my lips before pulling off of me, getting off the bed and stands next to it, extending his hand out to me.
"Come here. Now" he orders, the mix in his voice is spine tingling, it's rough and authoritive but he still manages to keep a gentle and caring tone to it.
I gulp, glancing my eyes over him stood there in just those black jeans that haunt me with the way they cling to his hips, the crevices that dip into them accentuated by the tattoos inked into his skin.
I slowly pull myself up, and shuffle to the edge of the bed, and he reaches his hand out to help me stand.
His black eyes give my body a once over, his chest picking up as he does, but I can't miss the affectionate glint in his eyes.
Harry never makes me feel insecure about my body, my insecurity comes from my shyness and lack of experience but I have a hunch he's going to make sure I experience a lot of things - he always does.
Harry moves to sit on the edge of the bed as he grasps my hands to move me to stand in front of him, keeping his eyes locked on mine as he does.
I feel on edge, my mind swimming with the promise of what he's about to do, of which I have absolutely no idea what it is.
I don't think it will matter how comfortable I get around Harry, he will always have me reduced to a bag of nerves over the anticipation of what he's planning or thinking about, because it's so unpredictable.
He tugs my hands so I slot inbetween his parted legs, dropping them once I'm stood there and places his hands on my hips.
I'm trying to control my breathing, but the anxiety in my chest is already making my chest rise and fall rapidly and he smoothes his hands up and down my waist to soothe me.
