Underneath //H.S. AU

ten.

WARNING; this book is already rated as mature however I will emphasize the point again: CONTENT IN THIS CHAPTER IS SEXUALLY EXPLICIT! If you are not comfortable with that, leave now. If you are then I hope you enjoy;)  *p.s. that gif tho unf it slays me ok*

 "Here," Harry reaches over and throws what looks like a screenplay on my lap. It's heavy, must be at least over two hundred pages. From reading the cover page, I notice that it's still untitled but Harry had written it himself. As I flip through the document, I can see that he's already highlighted his parts in yellow and I skim through quickly.

"What is this?" I inquire without removing my eyes from the page.

"A pony," he replies sarcastically.

I roll my eyes and groan. "Fuck you." I throw the script back down on the table in front of us and exchange it for my drink.

"Now, now so ungrateful. Is that any way to speak to the man who's offering you a lead role in my next film?" He picks the heap of paper up again and tries to hand it to me, this time more gently. I keep my hands in my lap, not accepting it.

"Funny," I say, not falling for whatever prank he's trying to pull on me next. I chug the rest of my drink in one gulp and forcefully slam the empty glass down.

His eyes dart over to where I haughtily placed down my glass and then back to me. I can tell by the small breath he sharply took that it bothered him but he doesn't say anything about it. "I'm serious. I want you to be in it."

If he was trying to pull off a joke, I don't see where it would be landing him. Maybe he actually is being serious? But even so, it doesn't make any sense. "Why? I haven't any acting experience and I already have a job." I press my hands over the material of my dress that's just barely covering my thighs.

The smallest snicker escapes his mouth and he runs a hand through his shiny curls. "Do you want to know why so many of my films are successes?"

I almost snort in frustration from his narcissism. "I'm not sure that they are."

"Don't play dumb I know that you've googled me." My eyes widen in horror and I'm shocked that he even found that out. He's got to be bluffing. I let out a sigh of relief but immediately panic again when he continues, "I had your phone, remember?"

I blink, outraged that he would invade my privacy like that. "You went through my phone?!"

"That's besides the point," he lifts his hand in the air into a waving motion, as if that diminishes his appalling behavior. "Anyway, they're all successes because I have a . . . gift, if you will. The second I see somebody I can tell if they have what it takes to play a certain part and there's a lot to acting, you know." He dares to lean in closer and his pace becomes slower as he continues. "You have to have the motivation," the palm of his hand rests against the arm of the couch in an attempt to barricade me up against it, "the time, the dedication, the look, the desire. And you, Noelle, you have all of it."

Throughout his monologue he managed to scoot closer and closer towards me at the end of every word. His voice has become a whisper and his lips are so close to my ear, sending goosebumps up my spine as his breath makes contact with my skin yet again. A cheeky grin forms on one side of his face, "And as for the chemistry . . . that speaks for itself."

And just like that, my lips are pressed against his again. I don't know how he manages to turn every conversation into a sexual innuendo but I guess that can go next on the list of his 'gifts.' His warm tongue massages mine and we stay like that on the couch for another few minutes. As the kiss becomes more intense, he lets the script fall to the floor and uses both hands to lift me up on top of him. My legs are wrapped around his torso as he carries me, never once removing his mouth from mine. His hands hungrily grab my bum, riding the material of the dress all of the way up my legs. The walk to his bedroom seems short though I'm sure my conception of time is off due to the current circumstances.