MORE

Chapter 23

God I missed his taste, his mouth, the way he makes me feel when he kisses me with those red, plump lips. I pull him closer if that is even possible and my hands roam his chest, remove his jacket and settle around his neck. My tongue explores his mouth, hungry for him, famished. I take a breathe and plunge back in. His hands comb my hair and rest at the back of my head. There is tenderness in his movements where in my case there is need, urgency. I  can't get enough of him. I'm already so hot for him, I'm on fire. I kiss him so hard I think I might have bruised his lips using such force on them. I kiss, nibble, demand, letting the tip of my tongue play with his. 

"Ash...Ashley, wait," he says in between kisses, finally pulling away from me and an involuntary whine escapes me. I want more. I want all of him. Right now. I move back to kiss him terrified that he'll disappear. This dreamy man in front of me will just vanish because this, right here, in this minute is way too perfect to be true. 

"Ashley," he takes my wrists, unties them from the back of his neck bringing them in between us once again interrupting our steamy make out.

"Noooo," I complain once more coming forward pecking his lips but after a few pecks he stops me. 

"Ashley, I'm serious," he glares at me. 

"So am I," I say playfully and I am stunned at my behaviour. Where have all my inhibitions gone? Why can't I resist him? But most importantly why is he resisting me?

"Are you?" he is still holding me hostage, his hands cuffing my wrists, his tone asking for my full attention. "Because I am." He is demanding and the way he looks at me makes me weak in the knees. 

"You can't kiss me like that and then regret it and then pretend it never happened because this," he points between us, "This is not a game. Not to me at least," he releases his grip on my hands and waits for me to come to my senses.

"I don't want to feel this way about you!" I almost accuse him. 

"I didn't expect you to happen in my life. I wasn't ready for you." He doesn't interrupt but patiently waits for my outburst to finish. It's not often he gets to see me bare my soul, and I doubt he will ever again.

"But you did. You came and you cause all these," I can't even express myself. For a bloody university professor I am certainly not very articulate right now.

"These feelings that just won't go away," I admit and he keeps staring at me calmly, giving me time, space.

"I want this Harry. I want it but I need to know that you are serious, too. There are a lot at stake now," he nods. "A lot more than before," he nods again.

"We need to be very careful. I can't stop thinking about you. We need to be discreet," my words don't have coherence but he gets it, he gets me.

"So you want this?" he smirks cheekily and his boyish charm is back. "You want me?" he urges.

"It was never a question of wanting this, you."

"Answer this question please. Humour me. Do you want this? Do you want me?"

"I do," I whisper and before I finish my words his lips are back on mine. His tongue caressing mine, his hands a vessel and me his ocean, brushing my hair, travelling my skin, slowly ridding of my clothes one by one and in between kisses he reassures me.

"You can't imagine how long I've waited to hear you say this." I am standing naked and vulnerable in front of him while he is fully clothed and he steps back to take a breath and to admire. He watches, no stares, observes, examines my body, my chest panting and he is serious all over again.