Siren

Chapter Twenty One

I WAKE TO THE SUN SHINING IN THROUGH LARGE WINDOWS. I'm somewhere unfamiliar, wrapped in a plain white duvet and a man. His arms are wrapped around me, his head resting on my chest.

Holy shit. I slept with Harry Styles.

A smile finds its way onto my face. Memories from last night flash across my mind. Harry's body against mine, Harry's mouth...everywhere. His inked skin wet and slippery as we got lost in each other.

No one has ever made me feel like that. The Noah that's with Harry is sexy. Confident. Fearless. She's the kind of girl that strips out of her clothes and makes it clear that she's wants her guy naked too.

But then we finished and something changed. Right now he's wrapped around me. But what happens when he wakes up too? Will he be the fun, playful Harry from earlier last night? Or will he be distant, lost in his own mind like he was before we fell asleep?

I really shouldn't be debating this right now, there are needs that need to be attended to and I have to figure out how to get out of the grasp of Harry Styles. I move slowly and ever so gently, somehow managing to get myself free from underneath him. He stirs slightly, mumbles something incoherent, and rolls onto his stomach.

God he's even perfect when he's drooling.

I make my way into the bathroom. The huge open space would be gorgeous, obviously designed for some of the elite of London. However, Harry's bathroom is a messy. Clothes are strewn about, black skinny jeans and an assortment of black and white t-shirts litter the floor. So he's not so perfect.

The vanity is also littered with various products. A few different shaving creams, about ten expensive looking colognes, along with a tray of rings surround the double sink. The mirror basically takes up the entire wall behind the sinks.

And he has a retainer! I smack my hand over my mouth to keep me from laughing out loud. I shake the box and the retainer rattles inside. I wonder if he ever wears it.

And then there is my reflection, staring back at me completely naked and, honestly, glowing. There is a stupid grin that seems to have been permanently etched across my face. I look around again and reach for a white discarded t-shirt. I put it to my face and inhale. It doesn't smell bad, which is annoying but perfect at the same time. It's all Harry, there isn't even a combination I could describe this with. If they could bottle this smell, however, it would sell better than any of the designer bottles on his counter top.

I slip the t-shirt over my head and blush. I can see all of my curves through the thin material and I love it because I want to see Harry's wide-eyed reaction.

Done with my snooping, I pad back into the bedroom to find him exactly where I left him. Asleep and drooling onto the pillow. I debate climbing back into bed with him but realize that I'm wide awake. And it's only nine in the morning.

Oh so silently I make my way to the living room to find my purse. I find my pile of clothes in front of the couch and I can feel my face heating up. In the light of day, and outside of his bedroom, that no longer seems like my best idea.

And neither is wearing his see-through freaking shirt. Shit.

I need to get back in there. Confident Noah has left the building. What was I thinking, stripping out of my clothes last night to get him to have sex with me.

Harlot is the word I'm looking for. One small step for woman, ONE GIANT LEAP BACKWARDS FOR WOMANKIND. And with Harry Styles no less, known womanizer of not only London, but the world.

I have to get out of this shirt and into something else; anything else. My dirty clothes from yesterday are going to have to do.

I collect my clothing from the floor and look around. Well, there really is no better place to change then right here. It's not like anyone can see into the thirty-fourth floor windows.

I start to pull the shirt over my head when I hear something. I turn around and there is Harry, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. I drop the hem of the shirt; a see-through shirt is better than no shirt.

"You should never wear anything other than that shirt," Harry says, his eyes as wide as I imagined they would be. And I'm no longer second guessing my actions last night or this choice of apparel. That smoldering gaze is enough to send my body temperature flying through the roof. God he's so hot and he makes me feel hot. This is why he's an international bad boy who women worldwide dream of sleeping with.

I take a step towards him and he quickly puts his hands on my hips. He licks his lips, his eyes trained on my breasts and my palms gently pressed against his chest.

"Were you trying to run out on me?" He asks.

"Just trying to put on actual clothes," I admit, shying away. He pulls me back to him and his hands go to my thighs, his fingers slipping underneath the hem of the shirt. A shiver runs up my spine and I lean farther into him.

"Like I said, you should never wear anything other than my shirt." He whispers into my ear as his fingers move inward. He pulls away suddenly, with that little smirk of his, and kisses me. "Breakfast?"

"Quickly? I need to go home, shower, get dressed and get to a meeting by eleven."

"Perfect. And to save time you can just shower here. With me. Go green." He winks and I can't help laughing. He's being so playful this morning and its adorable. I follow him as he skips into the kitchen and starts to put together a cereal breakfast.

"I don't keep as much food in here as I should." He admits as he sits down next to me, handing me a bowl and spoon.

"What's your mum's name?" he asks me just before he shoves a large spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

"Rose," I answer.

"Any brothers or sisters?"

"Just my mum and I." I answer again, this time slowly. Where is this coming from? "Do you have any siblings?"

"Just Gemma, my older sister. She's alright." he laughs.

A phone rings from inside the living room and Harry gets up with a roll of his eyes. I continue eating as I hear him answer and walk into another room.

I look down at my attire while he's gone and shake my head. I can't believe I'm wearing this but I would gladly wear it again if he's going to keep looking at me like he has been since he walked out of his bedroom.

I can hear his footsteps as he walks back. He has his phone in his hand and his lips are in a tight line. And he's dressed in his normal attire, black skinny jeans and a graphic t-shirt. He grabs his half eaten bowl and finishes it quickly and then throws his bowl into the sink.

"I'm sorry, I have to run out like this. I just got a call from our manager and I need to be at this meeting in twenty minutes. The door will lock when it closes behind you." He walks out of the kitchen, my jaw is on the floor.

He runs back and places his hand on my back as he presses his lips against my forehead. He leaves then and I wait until I hear the door close and lock behind him.

What the hell just happened?