Cleo Horan
I came to the conclusion that I could actually hate Harry even more as the days passed.
Being stuck in a hotel room with him, trying to reason and come up with a solid plan, was literally the hardest thing I ever had to do. Mostly because he was an arrogant son of a bitch and very damn stubborn.
And also because he kept teasing me .
Apparently, I was his only source of entertainment, and I had tried to distract him with the television but he had the attention span of a goldfish for anything that wasn't me. He kept staring at me and overanalyzing every little thing that I did, and his eyes were almost intimidating in a way.
We had to wait only until tomorrow so we could go grab the weapons he'd asked Zayn to deliver and the clock just couldn't go any slower. The fact I was trusting him and Zayn on this was beyond my comprehension, but that's when I remembered that Harry didn't know that I knew his friend, and he also didn't know about his relationship with June.
Of course, I didn't say anything, this actually was the safest way for us to get weapons and I hated to admit that it was a good idea, so we had to wait.
I knew Harry needed this time to rest because of his wounds as well, but the painkillers he was taking were helping him and he was taking care of the most serious wound, on the side of his body.
The gunshot wound was too small to even bother him, but the one I was responsible for was definitely going to leave an evident scar behind. It was very confusing how we had gone from trying to kill each other to have to work together because someone else was trying to kill us, life was so fucking unpredictable.
The annoying motherfucker also decided that it was okay to walk out of the bathroom completely naked after every shower, and when I asked him what the fuck he was doing he said he preferred to 'air-dry'. I swear to God I nearly killed him right then and there or bashed my head against the wall.
I knew why he was doing this, he enjoyed having me all flustered and staring at him, I fucking hated that I couldn't help it, my eyes had a life of their own. He knew he was hot, which was dangerous... and spending more time alone with him helped me notice things about him that I hadn't before.
Such as the fact he had four nipples... I was pretty shocked by that. And he had a small birthmark on his ass that I wouldn't have noticed if I wasn't staring like a creep. His body made me think of more forbidden things and I felt like I was going to explode.
And constantly being in the same room as him and sleeping right next to him were making me lose my fucking mind, his scent was borderline intoxicating. His long hair smelled like the hotel vanilla shampoo, but he just had his personal smell that was starting to get stuck on my skin.
That wasn't all, he never missed an opportunity to remind me that he left me a frustrating mess when I was dumb enough to let him take all control, he was seeing this as a challenge or a joke.
Yes, I didn't push him away when I felt his thigh between my legs... I told him to keep going, and that only pissed me off even more because he knew how much he was affecting me. But fuck, it actually felt really fucking good, the most intensity I ever felt in my life.
My bad mood was evidence enough that I would go insane if he kept this up. I had never felt this much tension before and I was about to tell him I would go to a different room on my own when the careless side of my brain had an idea.
Before I went to take a shower, I noticed he was wearing only his boxers to bed tonight, it seemed like there was always a goddamn bulge. I wanted to claw my eyes out because I would end up staring, I couldn't stop myself. The way the ferns tattooed on his hips looked so fucking visually appealing that I'd feel the urge to touch them shouldn't be normal.
