67. In My Veins

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"Everything will change . . ."

It's in one fluent motion that Harry falls back into the mattress and pulls me along. In an effort to steady myself and save myself from the embarrassment of falling into him, I straddle him with my knees on either side of his waist. He looks to me all the while, as if waiting for my next move. And I imagine this being his way of disconnecting himself from the situation and leaving me to live it out alone for a few moments, giving me time to change my mind, realize what I'm doing and stop. Reality of what we're about to do weighs heavy on my conscious and suddenly, I'm back down on earth.

I let out a shaky breath of air. Soft, tentative green eyes watch me from below. They're full of understanding, and part of me wishes they weren't so, for my mind would be clear of any false doubt and I wouldn't waste my time having second thoughts about something I'm sure of.

Unskilled, fumbling fingers toy at the buttons on the shirt he'd slept in. Inch by inch, the skin of his torso is revealed to me. Harry is motionless and perfectly still throughout. It's not until my fingers brush the trail of hair at his navel that he shifts. My hands still and our eyes connect before I continue what I'd started, popping the final button before pushing the material from his shoulders.

Once I've finished, I put on the bravest face I can.

"Your turn," I say, scooting back on the bed.

Harry raises his back from the bed. As I move away, he crawls after me.

"You want me to undress you?" His voice is low, seductive. "Want me to strip you down and take you right here on this bed?"

My cheeks flush with crimson at his words; they'd sounded so dirty coming from his sinful mouth.

Before I can form a proper response, he rises from the bed and moves to stand at the end. Eyes locked on my face, he instructs me to lie back with my head positioned at the middle of the mattress. Without warning, he takes a hold of my ankles and pulls me to him before coercing my legs to lock around his narrow waist.

He then leans down and attaches his lips to my neck. I gasp at the sensation of his cool mouth against my feverish skin. In contrast, his warm palms delve beneath the hem of my shirt and run up and down along my sides. I feel entirely small in his large, rough palms. They finally decide on my hips and stay on the bare skin there while the rest of him sinks down and out of view. The urge to raise my head is present, but his hands pin my hips to the mattress and keep them there before latching onto the hem of my shorts.

Hooking into the elastic band, there's a brief pause and then, the material is at my ankles. Back pressed flat against the mattress and legs dangling off the end, I don't know what to expect. The cool air that hits my newly exposed skin is quickly contrasted with a hot puff of breath that meets my center. I've proven that old habits die hard when my legs threaten to close but Harry is there, prying my knees apart to make way for his head between my thighs.

I feel painfully exposed lying there in broad daylight, blind to his actions. Everything we'd done before had been lived out in the dark. I'd found that the lack of light was comforting, for it'd concealed all of my insecurities. Made it less intimidating staring back at the boy whom had done it all before. This is different, though.

This is raw.

My thoughts are cut short when he hooks a finger into my underwear and tugs them to the side. A shock runs up my spine when he drags his tongue where I want it most, back arching and toes curling against the mattress. Searching desperately, my fingers find his mop of curls and tangle themselves inside. I'd always known that he'd found pleasure in having a pair of hands in his hair. I'm reminded of my revelation when he lets out a low moan against me.

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