Pretty Please Don't Pinch Me

79. Too Much

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"Harry! Put me down!" I squeal, hitting his back in an attempt to be put down. "We need to talk about this first... I might say no!"

"I simply won't let you," he answers huskily, as if it were the most obvious response.

He peaks into each room, and leaving almost straight away. He finds my room, but he too leaves as soon as he steps in.

Where is he going?

"Harry where are you taking me?" I whine, helpless.

He steps into our upstairs bathroom and puts down the lid of our toilet, setting me down on it. He kneels by me on the floor, fixing a piece of hair behind my ear in a loving way.

I reach out and grab hold of his face in my hands. I can't help it. I brush my thumb over his light stubble, and lean down to place my forehead against his.

"Harry –"

"Shh," he says, placing his thumb over my lips, "Let's not talk for a while," he says gently, the sexual tension in the room palpable.

I almost speak, but decide against it, knowing I will ruin this moment.

He needs to know what I did, but I selfishly want this man back into my life. I know we're right for each other. I know we would make each other happy. But I also know my actions of the previous night would make him devastatingly sad.

Maybe just for tonight we can pretend we're okay.

He places his hand to my side, gripping my waist. His hand runs smoothly up my skin, and I raise my arms above my head as he takes my jumper off. His eyes never leave mine. The temptation to look away is there, but I maintain his intense level of eye contact. I lean down slowly, running my hands down the contour of his back, and remove the shirt from his body, throwing it to the wayside.

Shirtless, he leans his face upwards, slowly nuzzling his nose up against my cheek, his mouth torturously close to mine. My lips find his without my knowledge. It wasn't a conscious thought. Kissing him was inevitable. Absolutely inescapable and he hungrily returns my kiss.

Before I know it, I am in his arms, my legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he walks us into the spacious shower. Still holding me, he pushes me up against the shower wall, lips glued to mine. I knock my elbow against the faucet and cold water falls down upon us, soaking our already beer damped clothing. I feel him smiling against my lips and he sets me down as we hurriedly fumble out of our bottoms.

Standing before each other in our underwear, I place my hand over the light trail of hair leading into his briefs, and watch him tilt his head back as my hand caresses lightly over the bulge now forming. I pause to admire the way that water drips from his curls, down his shoulder, and makes the long journey down the rest of his body. How can I want anything else when I have Harry here before me, wanting me. Needing me.

 A heavy wave of guilt washes over me and my body language changes immediately from open, to rigid and closed off. I need to tell him before this goes any further. I need for him to know before it eats me alive.

"Harry I –" I begin.

He grips my chin in his hand, tilting my head so I am looking at him.

"Don't speak. Let's not ruin the moment," he says, kissing me forcefully. Teasing me with only the tip of his tongue. His hand slides smoothly down my chest, and his middle finger slightly flicks the waistband of my underwear. His index finger draws slow circles around my clit, causing me to moan against his lips. His finger movements speed up, and I cry out in ecstasy while he lavishes my neck with his tongue.