Un-Tying the Knot {h.s.}

Chapter 59

I shake my head at myself as I leave his office, every step to the elevators sending a jab of pain through my heels and up my calves. These shoes really will be the death of me. I sigh, taking longer strides, trying to alleviate some of the pressure, but it doesn't seem to help. It does, however, get me to the elevator faster. I step inside, leaning my head back against the cool wooden façade, heaving a sigh.

That wasn't exactly how I'd planned that encounter to go. I had been avoiding him all week, hadn't called or come by, hadn't returned any of his texts — because it's what I always do when I'm upset with him and don't think I can keep my mouth shut about it. And it all started with last Saturday night when he showed up at my house unannounced. Well, really the morning after.

I felt his arms pull me tighter to him as I slowly started to wake this morning, and I reveled in the smell of his fading Tom Ford cologne and the feel of his strong, shirtless biceps around my waist. I nuzzled my nose a little deeper into the crook of his neck, my body half resting on his while our limbs tangled listlessly together. I was afraid to open my eyes, worried that if I did, I would realize I had dreamt the whole thing up.

Was Harry Styles really here? In my bed? Holding me through the morning?

"Morning, baby" he whispered against my temple, his morning voice deep and gravely, and oh so sexy. I felt one of his hands slide further down my back, resting just above my panty line, yet dangerously close to my behind.

"Is this a dream?" I giggle tiredly, nuzzling my nose deeper into the crook of his neck.

"Dunno," he started, trying to come up with something witty in response. But he was consumed by emotion instead, so he picked honesty. "Feels like it."

I smile, slowly opening my eyes as I link my fingers together, pressing my palms against his chest and resting my chin on the backs of my conjoined hands. Our faces were aligned perfectly, him crinkling his neck downward and peering through his long lashes and over the slope of his nose to look at me.

"It does, doesn't it?" I whisper, giggling when his hand started rubbing my back, gently slipping it beneath the fabric of my old t-shirt — but in a comforting, not intentionally sexual, way.

"Mmhmm," he smiles. His other hand reaches up to push some hair off of my face. "Have I told you how utterly gorgeous you are today?"

I shook my head, smiling bashfully up at him. I knew he was lying. I could tell my hair was a messy mass of wavy curls, I certainly wasn't wearing makeup, and all I had on was a pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt. Meanwhile, he looked like a God, his hair perfectly scattered in a way only he can pull off, his tan skin and tattoos on display proudly, given he was only wearing his tight black boxers.

How we went to bed like this last night without having sex was beyond me.

"Nope," I smile. "You haven't."

He chuckles, taking the index finger of the hand that just pushed my mess of curls behind my ear, and he moves it to my nose, booping it it playfully before sticking his tongue out. His other hand was never planning on leaving the small curve of my lower back, and judging by how his fingers were splayed over the small expanse, I knew it as fact. I playfully pretended to bite at the finger of his free hand as it neared my nose again.

"Lies," he mumbles playfully.

I smile, using the tips of my toes against the mattress to push me up a little further against him, body raking against his as I gently let my lips touch his perfectly pink ones. "Good morning, baby..." I return his first words to me, our eyes linking intensely.