Stranded with the Rockstar (Rockstar #1)

16. Harry

He pulls back, because he has to. It was so unexpected. He was just getting ready to apologize for getting too close, and she decided to bring them even closer.

But there's no way he's going to miss this chance.

After taking his half-step backwards, he spares a quick glance at her face before returning and continuing their kiss, her full lips on his once again. Fuck, they're even softer than he imagined and seem to melt into his, molding into perfect synchronization.

At first, she seems nervous, her body stiff and unmoving, but when he lets go of her hand—the hand that he had no intention of letting go of until she made him—and places it in her hair, he can feel her relax. She brings her hand to his forearm, squeezing it gently, like she's afraid to let go.

Although they are always alone, it seems even more so up here on this hill. There are no sounds save the mild wind, a few chirps and caws from nearby birds, and his beating heart. It's just them, just two people. One of whom happens to be mildly obsessed with the other.

He has wanted this. He has wanted it and her for longer than he'd ever admit, even to himself—maybe more than he's ever wanted anyone. She talks to him, she listens to him—really listens—and she has taught him so many new things, and she makes him laugh, and she makes him happy.

And damn, she can kiss. Whether it's from experience or beginners luck, Harry doesn't know, but he would assume it's the latter.

It doesn't matter. As she parts her lips, allowing him to taste her, it doesn't matter. Nothing else matters. 

The earth is spinning, and seems to be spinning faster by the second, around them. He holds on tight to Sunny, so he doesn't float away.

He has no control as his hands release her face and his arms wrap themselves around her waist, pulling her against him. He's amazed by how perfectly she fits. Her arms circle around his neck, and he's never known a better use for his shoulders. He feels trembling but doesn't know who it's coming from. He thinks he hears a quiet moan but can't be sure. It might mean that she's enjoying this as much as he is, though.

It's a warm day, especially in the sun, but every inch of him that's not pressed against her feels cold. He doesn't want this to end, ever.

And for a long time, it doesn't. Everything they had been holding back, holding inside, has to come out. His hands seem to be everywhere and nowhere. As much as he touches her, he wants more. Her hands move from his shoulders, to his hair, to his back.

This isn't a kiss, this is an experience.

But alas, as raindrops start to fall, Sunny pulls away. He has no idea how long they've been up here. It simultaneously felt like seconds and hours. He can see that the sun has changed position in the sky, skimming just above the tree line. Sunny keeps her eyes closed for a second longer than necessary, and it makes him smile.

"Truth," she says when she looks at him. He rests his forehead against hers, indicating that she should continue.

"Did you only kiss me because it's my birthday?"

He wasn't expecting that. "Of course not." He runs his thumb back and forth on her back. "Why would you think that?"

"Because why—" The rain starts to pick up, and quickly. It captures Sunny's attention. "We should go back."

He starts to argue. A little rain won't hurt them. But then he remembers that getting out of the rain would entail going to their tent, where it's impossible to not touch each other. "Okay."

She gives him a warm smile as she releases her arms, but he doesn't let her go all the way, grabbing first her wrist and then intertwining their fingers once again. And as they descend down the zigzag path that Harry had first stumbled upon weeks ago, he has a realization.

Despite their current circumstances, he has never been this peaceful in his entire life.

There are no cameras blinding him, or managers calling him, or lyrics to write—all the things that he was raised to see as important.

Today, what was important was ensuring that Sunny enjoyed her day, and that was it. She may have still wished to be home, but he doesn't think so.

He looks back at her and catches her staring at him. Her eyes dart away as a blush creeps up her neck.

"You look really beautiful today," he says, slowing his steps to walk backwards through a flat stretch.

She shakes her head, but he sees the pink in her cheeks deepen. He's not surprised when she tries to make a joke instead of accepting the compliment. "Just today? I suppose I look like a dog every other day?"

He stops, and since she is trying to avoid his eyes, she runs straight into his chest. He brings his hand to her cheek and tilts her face up. "No. You always look beautiful. It just finally feels okay for me to tell you."

She starts to smile again but gets cut off when he brings his mouth to hers, light as a feather, before pulling away.

"This may be my best birthday ever." Her eyes widen like she just said something she didn't mean to. "But don't let that go to your head."

He chuckles, leaning down to her level once more. And as it turns out, a little rain didn't hurt them...because they didn't make it to the tent until long after the sprinkle had passed.

And then they didn't leave it again for a long, long time.