THE TAYLORS [H.S]

28.

Harry.

I didn't know how many times I needed to tell myself I was royally fucked until I got it through my head, but apparently every two minutes wasn't enough because my thoughts kept falling back to the woman in my bed.

It was 6AM. Six fucking AM and I had gotten less than four hours of asleep. My brain had been going a million miles an hour, too caught up on the thoughts of Annabeth Taylor in my lap, ass up to allow myself to sleep.

My fist collided with the punching bag again, a low grunt falling from my lips as I did. It did nothing to change the direction of my thoughts, but it was the best distraction. I couldn't sleep with Anna next to me. Her smell was wrapped around me like a snake, suffocating me until I felt too winded to even breath.

I hated it.

I needed my control back, I needed to remember my job, my role in her life. As much as I wanted to watch her drop to her knees in front of me, I knew it would result in one of the biggest distractions of my career.

I was both frustrated and intrigued about my attraction to little Miss Annabeth Taylor. I had watched her over the years, grown accustomed to the stories I heard - though never did I think I'd fall victim to her deadly smirk and pretty pouty lips. She was going to get me into trouble if I wasn't careful, and yet, staying away didn't feel like an option.

A Taylor was good at keeping a secret, that I knew for sure, but now thinking about it, I wasn't sure if I wanted one with her. I don't know how I would react if I had a taste of her pretty lips on mine, and then saw her with someone else.

Something predatory was already alighting in me at the very thought. I slammed my fist back into the punching bag, watching it swing back with force from the hit.

What had happened in the late hours of last night was brought down to lapse judgment. My mind was pounding through adrenaline because what had happened at the club, and I wasn't thinking straight. It didn't happen often, but I was finding that every time I was with Anna, half of my brain decided it didn't want to function anymore.

"Damn, what did that punching back do to you?"

I didn't even glance at the door. I rolled my eyes, hitting it one more time. "Fuck off."

"Ease up," Niall laughed, walking into the room.  He purposely put himself in my line of vision. He was dressed in a matching black jumper and sweats, a smirk plastered on his face despite the tiredness of his eyes.

I made a show of staring at him as my fists collided over and over again with the bag, sending the dull ache up my arms. "Did you want something?"

Niall shrugged, glancing around the bare room. "Thought I'd check up on you. Saw Richy Rich in your bed and knew you'd be out here."

I froze, mid-hit. Anna had gone to bed practically naked. My glare shot up to him as he laughed. "You went in my room?"

"Oh, pipe down you barbarian. She had the covers pulled up to her chin, didn't get a glimpse of anything." He grinned wider. "Unfortunately."

"Have some respect or I'll knock some into you."

Niall rolled his eyes at me but said nothing. I could feel his eyes drag down my body, and I could feel the judgment.

"Say it or get out," I told him, stretching my back. I bounced on my feet for a moment, regaining my focus.

"I didn't even open my mouth."

"I can hear your thoughts from here, Niall."

He huffed. "I'm just wondering what the fuck you're doing."