The Beacon [h.s]

30

Nyla West

I could barely breathe, completely consumed by Harry's words, his touch, his breath hitting my face, his stare, and I craved every single one of them.

His hands reached down my back, arching me against him as I sat on his lap, his hands cupping my ass, patting it gently to get my attention.

"Can you do that for me, Ny?" He whispered close to my face.

That nickname always got me, almost making me moan at his sultry air hitting my face. I slowly nodded once I'd left the inside of my mind. "Yeah, I can do that." I managed to mumble, moving my hands to hold his shoulders in order to slowly lift myself off him.

I hadn't realized my legs would feel this wobbly as I stood onto my feet, Harry's hands gripped my hips, keeping me straight as he smirked up at me. I huffed out a breath, slightly annoyed that he had this effect on me, he knew it too.

I slipped out of his hold, taking the steps to the room's door and turning the lock on the knob. I took this moment of facing away from Harry to try and compose myself, breathing in to regulate my labored breaths as much as possible, the anticipation of what's to come ate me alive.

I must've been too in my head to even listen for any movement in the room because once I finally turned around after locking the door, Harry was standing right in front of me, making me jolt in surprise and lean against the door.

"You okay?" He asked, his hands already finding their way onto my hips, his thumbs tracing circles onto the small part of exposed skin between my cropped shirt and the waistband of my jeans. His touch left shocks of heat, the ache between my legs only growing stronger.

"Yeah." I blurted out, not even thinking about my answer.

Though Harry's face then contorted into concern, his eyebrows creasing as a small frown is on his lips. "Did he hurt you?" His eyes left mine, now scanning my body.

It took me a second to understand what he was asking. "You mean Zach?" My own brows furrowed.

His jaw clenched, hands tightening around my hips. "Don't say his fucking name. He doesn't deserve it." He loosened his hands a bit before mumbling again, "Did he hurt you, Nyla?"

My lips parted, but no words came out, I wasn't sure what to say by the look on Harry's face. I wasn't used to him caring about my well being, let alone caring about me at all. A few moments passed, words finally spilling out of my mouth.

"No, he didn't."

"Are you sure? Because I'll fucking kill him if he made a mark on you. I should've just killed him downstairs the second I saw him sit next to you in the kitchen." He grounded out.

I hovered my hand over his chest, catching his eyes before fully placing it on him, feeling the breath he let out as soon as I did it. "He didn't hurt me, I didn't like his hands on me, but I took care of it. I know self defense, remember?" I tried assuring him with a weak smile.

But Harry shook his head, not buying into my joke. "He could've hurt you. What if I wasn't watching? He could've taken you, and done things—"

"Hey—" I cut his overthinking off, now placing both hands on his chest, leaning into him, "—that didn't happen though. I'm okay. I'm here."

Harry stared down at me, slowly nodding his head. "You're here." He repeated like it was more of a reminder to himself than for me.

I forced the incredibly huge urge I had to hug him down, squeeze him tightly to let him know that I'm really here, to not worry. But I refrained from it, not wanting to cross his boundaries, settling with a smile up at him instead. Finally his lips quirked up, his hands travelling up my waist.