Wedding Dance (Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Part 3

I raise my eyebrows. She's being quite forward, and I wonder if she's had too much wine. But then I remember that her last glass of wine ended up soaking into the tablecloth and my trousers. With held breath, I wait to see what she will do next. When she tentatively brushes her lips over mine, I hold very, very still. When she repeats the gesture, I breathe out, and then I feel her tongue trace my lips. My eyes, which have drifted closed, open to her eyes searching my own, seeking an answer to her question. But I don't know the question. Or the answer. All I want is to taste her.

When she once more cautiously grazes her lips over mine for a third time, I give in, capturing her bottom lip between my teeth, worrying it a bit before I soothe it. And when she introduces her tongue into my mouth, I have had enough. With fierce energy, I meld our mouths together, thrusting into her mouth relentlessly, my left hand wrapped around the back of her head while my right hand reaches for her breast. Fuck. She is not what I was expecting to find at this wedding, and I'm at a loss of what to do now.

I have to leave in the morning. There is no question here. Tomorrow afternoon I have to be on the last flight out to Los Angeles from Heathrow. It's a given. There are too many things in play, and I was lucky to get time off to come to Allen's wedding. But staying longer just isn't an option.

So now I don't know what to do. My head is racing. I want her. So fucking bad, and it seems she is willing. And yet I know that she's not the one-night-stand kind of gal. The kissing, though. Fuck me. The kissing is everything I ever imagined it should be. Our lips are melded together, our tongues fused in a dance as old as time. My hand on her breast caresses her until I feel her nipple bead up, and it's all I can do to not reach around and unhook her bra. I want to feel her cool skin against my lips. I want to know that she's mine. Completely.

But we've just met. We don't really know anything about each other, despite my earlier pronouncement and joke. But oh! How I want to know her on a deeper level. To be able to hold her close night after night, feeling her pliant skin against mine on a regular basis. Why does real life have to get in the way of love? Whoa. Love? Who mentioned love? Casually, I bring our kiss to a close, as I smooth her top over her bra once more, wondering who I've become in the last several hours.

God! His lips on mine! I never had such a kiss in my whole life! No man could kiss me like that, and I remember what I said once to my old friend as we were sitting in my flat in the kitchen drinking wine. "Everything stands and falls with the first kiss." I raised my glass of wine, and we laughed. But yes, this was a perfect kiss on a perfect night. Suddenly I have the lyrics of "Strangers in the Night" by Frank Sinatra in my head. Yes, we're strangers and we met here. Two lost souls longing for someone. Someone who understands the other, someone who can fill the emptiness. The void. My eyes fly open, and I see that his eyes are closed, his lips still on mine. His hand strokes tenderly over my breasts, and I want to give in for one night. But what if I fall in love with him? Oh god. What if I'm already in love with him? Panic rises in me, and I detach my lips from his. His eyes open immediately, and I have to swallow. I don't like playing games. I know I will lose miserably....

My flat palm rests on his chest as I look in his green eyes, which look at me with such an intense glance that I want to cry. I want to curl up and pull my duvet over my head. Why am I so complicated ? Why can't I relish this night?

"Listen, Harry," I start, fixing his eyes with mine. I can feel his warm skin through the shirt under my palm. The tingling in my stomach is still present. His strong hands slide down my silhouette. Biting my lip I look down. Opening my eyes shyly, I look up.

"It's late, and I guess I... I... I have a double room." The words are out of my mouth faster than I can think. What did I say? Oh my god. I invited him into my bed. What if he says no? Maybe I'm not attractive enough, maybe I'm too forceful. I shouldn't have said anything. I don't want to look at him. I can't look at him. I start to move. I want to leave. His hands hold me and I have to look at him. His eyes sparkle, and I maybe see a glimpse of joy. Pressing a kiss on his lips, I feel his breath in my face. It's like a warm summer breeze which tickles tenderly at my soul. I'm lost. Yes, he has me. He has everything.