Siren

Chapter Eighteen

I THROW MY BAG ON THE FLOOR AND SHRUG OUT OF MY JACKET. This is the second time in two days that I've been here. Harry is putting his keys and phone in his bedroom, leaving me to enjoy looking around his living room. There is no personality and I find myself wondering why. He isn't a dull man and is definitely not short handed when it comes to friends. Plus, there are millions of pictures of him circulating everywhere. He had can easily print out photos of some of the most exciting nights of his life since he's been 16.

"What are you thinking?" His voice is right behind me and I can see our reflection in the large window overlooking the city skyline. His hands go to my hips, his eyes never leaving mine in our reflection.

"Why don't you have any pictures?" I ask him. Harry Styles is a puzzle, one that's never quite been solved and I think my blog is where this complicated person behind me can be figured out.

"Yes I do," he argues. He leaves me and I turn to see him grab the single frame above the fireplace. He hands the frame to me. It's a photo of him with two women, one is wearing black graduation robes.

"My sister, my mum and I at my sisters graduation." He explains.

"You look so proud," I tease. In the photo he is smiling, looking at his sister instead of the camera while his family looks directly into the camera.

"She's my best mate," he laughs, taking the frame back and putting it back in its place in the mantle. He moves across the open space and takes a seat on the sectional, crossing one long leg over the other. He smiles up at me invitingly. I pause, just watching him watching me. I have no idea what this is between us and I'm not sure I want to find out. I'm using him to push my career but there is something more. The combination is dangerous and I have a bad feeling about it all. Too bad I'm not smart enough to pay attention to that instinct.

I cross the room and take a seat next to him as he flips on the television and slings his arm over my shoulders. My head is perfectly level with his shoulder and I lean on him, content being in his arms even though the sexual tension between us is next to impossible to ignore.

The contact between our bodies is too much. Thoughts begin running through my mind. Replays of the other night and the overwhelming confidence his look gives me. Him stepping between my thighs, him leaning against his doorframe watching me as I sat back on his bed. Things have got to move tonight. I don't know if I can handle another night like the last one.

"What are you thinking about?" I throw his question back at him. He's watching whatever is on television but he draws his attention away to look down at me. He seems amused but I can't be too sure.

"Do you really want to know?" he asks, his lips lifting into that half boyish grin, half dirty minded smirk.

I nod.

I squeeze my thighs together. He doesn't fail to notice.

"I'm trying to figure out how to get your clothes off." he says, his light green eyes go dark as his pupil takes over the circumference, leaving only a thin line of green.

My breath catches and deep inside of me, those muscles contract at his words. It's suddenly ten degrees too hot for this leather jacket.

No thinking, Noah.

I sit up and pull my arms out of my jacket before standing up and lifting my shirt over my head. Harry's eyes are huge and I want to comment but this is sexy, Noah. I kick my shoes off, pull my hairtie out, and unbutton my pants before placing my hands on my hips.

"Would you like to finish?" I ask in an innocent voice only I can manage. Harry's jaw is on the ground and the overwhelming surge of power flows through me.

That's right, Styles. Take it in.