𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓! | harry styles

𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈

I can't explain it.

It's like a switch has turned on and my whole world brightens again. Even though I know it's wrong, deceitful, probably against the law and definitely against anything moral, I can't deny I want her back.

All of it back. Regardless of Lydia, my family - any of the reasons I shouldn't just don't exist. But I'm stronger than giving in right away. My pride is larger than my hard-on.

I make her wait, not answering her second text for a few days.

Okay, it's more like two days.

I answer her I want you with a Why?

She doesn't answer, and I wonder if I blew it, but the ulcer stays quiet so I tell myself this is probably a good thing.

Loading the dishwasher that night, I feel smug, knowing my phone is across the room in my coat pocket, not glued to my side like in months past. Lydia chooses two new shows she wants to watch, and I feel victorious as I watch both, my attention not focused on the phone that I'd watch like a hawk if this were a few weeks ago. We lay in bed with me being the big spoon, and I don't listen in the dark for the vibration coming from the nightstand, and I think I'm better than I am.

After my shower Monday morning I give myself a pep talk in the mirror, reminding myself how the last twelve days have been the proper twelve days. Not a pot-infused fantasy life filled with juicy lips and tight thighs.

I'm ready when I see her.

I'm not, however, ready for the daggers shooting straight at me.

Shuffling play folders and forms for new equipment around on my desk, I'm completely shocked when she comes storming into my office - the glass cage in the boys locker room. She shuts the door behind her and walks to my desk.

"Evelyn, what are you doing in here? You're going to get us both in trouble." I glance out the windows to see if anyone is lingering. It's not a gym period for me, but sometimes the guys come in to grab stuff from their lockers.

"What the hell does 'why' mean?" She sits on the desk edge, on the play book, and crosses her arms.

"It's a simple question."

Her look is disbelieving, morphing into a pout. Her leg moves across my knees, her butt sliding over the desk, creasing and folding the pages beneath her until she's semi-straddling me.

"Evelyn not here."

"Yes, here. Don't you remember one of the fantasies you told me about?" She toys with the whistle around my neck, her red nails making sure to scratch the shirt underneath, a feeling that makes me shiver in excitement.

I swallow hard. "Fantasies are just that. This is really, really stupid."

"I don't see you trying to get away from me."

I stand. And then back away.

My back is pressed against the cold cement, and she doesn't look upset, or dumbfounded. She looks determined.

She gets up slowly, crossing to me, my hands starting to sweat and my dick starting to rise as she puts that bottom lip between her teeth like she knows I like.

Two hands press to my chest and I'm done. I swoop down, kissing her like I've been denying myself it's exactly what I wanted. She is sunshine, the best, always sexy and making me want more instantly.

She is fantastic.

She is dangerous.

She is back.

We meet that afternoon, hungry and thirsty like camels in the desert.

It's cold out so we've found a new place, the heated hunting cabin my grandfather left my father that he barely uses.

Under musty blankets we fuck ourselves silly, Evelyn over me and under me and me behind her and next to her.

I hold her head as she goes down on me, her fiery eyes not leaving mine as she licks and takes me all in. My girl loves to suck cock, she's always been enthusiastic, but this is the first time she's kept my gaze. Her eyes roll back a bit as I pull on her hair, a bit rough the way she likes it. I rub the spot I pulled, my affection for her overruling the hard way she likes to keep it. I'm amazed when a small smile plays over her swollen lips as she sucks me into oblivion.

After, we're sweaty and spent. She surprises me by not leaning away when I pull her into me. "I missed you," she says quietly, like if she doesn't say it out loud it won't be true.

I shift my head back to look at her, auburn hair bright in the ray of late day sunlight breaking through the dirt-streaked window. One eye is smudged black underneath lashes as she looks at me, a hint of vulnerability on her perfect face.

"I-" She presses a finger to my lips.

"Don't. I know it was my fault." When I don't say anything as instructed, she continues. "That's all you're gonna get out of me."

"You told me not to say anything," I laugh, giddy with her.

"When did you ever do what I say?"

My eyes widen. "Evelyn, it's always been what you say." She just hums, moving her cheek down to slide against my chest. Knowing it's not going to get any deeper, I chuckle and run my hand through her hair. "I guess I'm taking up smoking again."

"For now." The shifting of her body against mine suddenly feels like sandpaper where silk usually lies.

For now.

I guess I'll take it. For now.

* * *

Lydia's glare from across the kitchen island does nothing to dampen my Evelyn induced high.

I raise my hands up, ready for a fight. "What?"

"I can smell it on you." Her fingers gesture towards me, the first two out in a 'V' like someone holding a smoke.

I bet that's not all she'd be able to smell, my mind flashes. "You said you weren't going to bug me about it until after the wedding."

Her shoulders slump slightly. "True. Fine. Just know that I was proud of you for quitting on your own." Now I get her back as she flips the chicken.

It hurts a bit, but not enough to not take full advantage of the excuse it gives me. "I'm so glad that's all you're proud of me for." Low blow, but I'm angry she's in front of me and not the hot as fuck brunette I've fallen so hard for.

I retreat to the garage to putter with some tools that should've been organized months ago, before Evelyn.

Tossing wrenches too loudly, I take out my frustration on inanimate objects. I'd be stupid to think this thing with Evelyn is long-term, but I can't deny that the feeling I have when I'm with her is something I haven't felt with Lydia in a long time.

There's the right thing – Lydia, marriage, kids, a home, having a companion.

Then there's the wrong thing – ditching it all to ride the Evelyn train as long as I can.

These two thoughts tell me what I've known far too long but haven't admitted.

Both things make me a complete shit.

Because Lydia deserves better, even if I don't.