Siren

Chapter Eleven

"WAKE UP GORGEOUS." I can hear his voice and I know I should wake up. But in my dream his lips haven't left mine and his arms are wrapped tightly around me.

"Noah, movies over." I feel his lips on my forehead and my eyes popped open. My legs are over his lap and mine arms are wrapped around his torso. He's smiling at me, his one arm wrapped around my back and those green eyes are inches from my face.

"I wasn't asleep." I say and my head falls back onto his shoulder. He chuckles and I can feel his chest reverberating against my back. I open my eyes again but don't lift my head. He's still looking at me, as if he can't take his eyes off of me and I have to sit up.

My dream was perfect. Lots of kissing. Lots of touching. I put that out there for him tonight. Made it pretty damn clear what I wanted. So now, he is going to have to work for it.

"What time is it?" I ask, reaching my hands above my head to stretch out my back. I can feel the soft pop in my spine and I feel so good.

"It's almost midnight." He answers, rubbing his palm into my lower back. Dark and dangerous Harry is back. His eyes are hooded and dilated and he's giving me that I'm taking your clothes off with my eyes right now look. Oh damn it's hot.

"I need to get home." I say. I have a long ass ride home and I'm exhausted. Why couldn't I have just agreed to get a flat with Emily and Jonathan? Then I wouldn't have to go all the way back out to my mums.

I try to stand up but his hands wrap around my waist even tighter. He keeps me in his lap, giving me that evil little smile.

"Noah, it's so late. Stay here. I'll take you home tomorrow." His argument is too valid. I fall back into his arms lazily. Honestly, I have no problems sleeping right here.

Suddenly his arms are under my legs and I'm holding on for dear life as he stands. I'm holding on for dear life. He isn't even watching where he is going! Instead he is looking at me in his arms with that damn smile of his, those dimples are enough to distract any girl from her long term goals.

He brings us into his bedroom and finally puts me on my feet.

"That was uncalled for." I mutter under my breath.

"You would have fought me." He counters. He walks over to the dresser on one wall and pulls two different items out of two different drawers.

"Would not. I have to sleep somewhere."

"You would have gone to the guest room." He throws whatever he just pulled out of his dresser at me. It's a tshirt and a pair of boxers. I flush as I hold the items of clothing and even in the dark I think he notices.

He disappears into his bathroom. I quickly change out of my jeans and shirt and into his plain black boxer briefs and white tshirt. Thin white tshirt. He walks back into the room; now wearing only a matching pair of black boxer briefs like mine. He stops for a second when he looks up at me and instinctively I cross my arms across my chest. No bra and thin white shirt aren't exactly leaving much to the imagination.

He clears his throat and throws himself onto his bed. I stand awkwardly. He has a point: I could go sleep in the guest room and avoid any and all temptations. But, as he rolls over and pats the empty side of the bed next to him I know I want to sleep next to him.

I climb into bed next to him as he pulls the white comforter down.

"That was a bad choice." He says, his eyes trained on my breasts through the see-through shirt I'm borrowing.

I flip onto my stomach.

He chuckles.

"What to do with you." He mutters, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me against him. I can feel him, all of him, pressed up against my side and it feels so good. His body is rock solid, long and lean. I turn my head to look at him and am pleased to find him looking at me.

His smile falters.

"Go back to sleep, beautiful." He presses those lips against my forehead again and then his green eyes close. I stare at him like that for a few seconds, wondering what is going on underneath that long curly mop of hair. I thought I knew exactly who he was but as it turns out, I don't know what kind of guy he is at all. He's sweet and kind. Unfairly attractive. Arrogant and humble. And he can cook!

It's a whirlwind of traits I have never experienced and I want to get to the bottom of it. Not only for myself but for my blog. He is one of the hottest twenty-one years olds in the world but-at times-it's almost as if he doesn't know it.