Siren

Chapter Thirty-One

"HARRY." I groan as we stand in the living room of the fifth flat we've been shown today, each one more marvelous than the last. This one has a kitchen of white wood, steel appliances and a white marble counter top. The windows take up all exterior wall space and a spacious balcony overlooks a park. The same park that Harry's apartment overlooks; his apartment is just across lush green backdrop of the flat.

Harry has had something to say about every place. The last one, which seemed damn near perfect to me, had floors that would need to be redone within the year and the white carpet in the master bedroom would, apparently, need to be replaced as soon as possible. The one before that, not enough cabinet space even though I don't cook much. The one before that, not enough natural light.

Now, in the fifth flat, he might as well have a microscope on the crown molding.  He keeps rubbing his chin, looking the place up and down as if he's the one looking for a place. He holds a finger up to me; I shift my weight from foot to foot and let my bag fall down my arm to my hand.

"When were the last renovations done?" Harry asks the poor agent for the second time

"The entire building was remodeled in 2004." She answers like a trained puppy. She has been more than attentive with Harry while basically ignoring my very presence in every room. But, I guess I should get used to it. "This flat was redone last summer. The kitchen was completely updated and the windows replaced."

"And the demographics of the building?" Harry asks.

"Harry, that doesn't matter," I interject. He once again raises his finger, the universal sign for wait a second.

The agent glances at me, I'm the child who keeps interrupting. I walk back into the master.

As in walking I here her answer, sweet as ever: "This building is home to mostly upper class, young adults and some new families..."

The master is spacious, probably bigger than my mums entire house. The windows seem to capture everything that I've ever dreamed of in one giant panoramic view.

I sit down in the middle of the empty room and lay back on the restored hardwood floor.

Harry is going to make an amazing husband one day. He's not a do-it-yourselfer but he knows what to ask the real estate agents and he's attentive to everything.

Next I'll have to go buy furniture. I'm not sure that I want him there for that, it'll be three weeks before I have a bed. But I can already picture it, this room decorated for us. . .for me. This entire day has my head reeling. It looks and feels like Harry and I are buying this place together and I have had to continuously remind myself that it's just me. We aren't moving in together. We're barely a couple.

I open the notes app on my phone and start writing with the mini keyboard at my fingertips. I've always done this, sort through my emotions by writing. It calms me down. Helps to organize my thoughts. Confuses me even further.

I'm hopelessly attracted to him, using him for my own professional gain, and could fall in love with him faster than the fog envelops London nights. Not to mention I can now Google "News" on myself.

"Noah?" Harry's voice echoes down the empty hall of the apartment and I tuck my phone back into my purse as I listen to his boots stomping down the hall.

The door swings open and I look above my head, not moving from the spot on the floor. He cocks his head to the side, taking me in on an angle, and smiles before joining me.

"I think you should rent this place," he says after a silent moment of the two of us just staring at the white ceiling. I sit up.

"Finally, Jesus." I exclaim rather dramatically. It's nearly eight. I'm hungry. I'm tired. I want to go back to Harry's furnished flat.

"Where's Charleen?" I ask, walking out of the bedroom with Harry on my heels.

"I asked her if we could just look around by ourselves while she goes out front and makes a few calls." He smiles, his hands shoved in the too tight pockets of his black jeans. He takes another step toward me in the empty living room.

"Harry?" And then his hands are on me, hooked around my waist and pulling me against him. His lips go to my next first before he trails along my jaw and to my mouth. He takes my breath away. He's needy. Now. Here. And I'm so turned on.

He backs me up until I run into a wall and my feet lift off the ground and he puts his hands on the wall behind me. He is literally holding me off the floor with his body, and I am clinging onto him, my arms wrapped around his neck for support.

"How long is this phone call?" I manage to ask as his cool fingertips slip under my blouse. I'm looking at the double door entrance, imagining a startled real estate agent walking in on this.

"Enough time," he mumbles against my neck.

"Harry!" I giggle as he softly bites my ear lobe. He groans but pulls back, only enough so that I can see his face. His green eyes are dilated and his cheeks are flushed, his eyelids lazy.

The door knob rattles and in Charleen walks, stopping short when she see us pressed against the wall and breathless.

"Oh. Oh." She looks everywhere. But doesn't turn around like any sensible person would. "I'm sorry. I have the contract."

Harry looks at me with an eye roll but stands me back on my feet and walks over to Charleen with that air of authority he has possessed all day.

"We'll look this over and meet again tomorrow at my place at 3." He tells Charleen as he grabs the file from her hands. "Come on, babe."

My eyes go wide but I follow, grabbing ahold of his hand as I pass Charleen. She staring, glaring at me because I have him.

I have him.

He's mine.