New Orleans, Baby

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I wake up the next morning sweating rather profusely, and it takes me several moments to realize exactly why that is. Harry's arm is draped over my waist and his bare chest is pressed up against my back, the pressure of which feels really nice despite the fact that I am uncomfortably warm. His breath fans softly across the back of my neck, and even in my tired state of mind, I can't help but imagine how his pink lips must look right now. They're probably slightly parted and less than an inch from touching the skin on the back of my neck, and that thought makes me smile. What doesn't make me smile is the fact that when I try to move, I realize that Harry's hand is conveniently gripping one of my tits. I guess should have at least put on a T-shirt with my underwear last night, but honestly, I don't really mind that much. It's good to know that even in his sleep, my tits are on his mind. Well, in his hands apparently.

Harry seems to sense that I have awoken, because he nuzzles his head into my back and pulls me tighter to him. He sighs deeply and his hand tightens around my breast, the action of which both shocks me and makes me laugh aloud. At this, Harry moves abruptly away from me, propping himself up behind me with his other arm. I roll over to lay flat on my back, so I can look up at him.

"I didn't mean to do that," Harry says hurriedly, his deep and groggy morning voice cracking half-way through. He looks to be genuinely disturbed with himself, and I can't help but smirk at his evident embarrassment.

"Sure you didn't," I roll my eyes playfully, and I can see Harry struggling to keep his eyes off my still exposed chestal region.

"I swear I didn't," Harry sputters adamantly, a very cute and panicked expression across his face.

Laughing, I cover myself with my hands and stand up from the bed to find a T-shirt. The closest one is a white shirt peeping out of Harry's suitcase, so I settle on that one and pull it swiftly over my head before climbing back into bed with him. Harry looks at me smilingly, like he's admiring me or something, so I lightly kiss his cheek to keep him from staring so intensely at me. When I sink back into the pillow, Harry is grinning down at me even more giddily than before, his cute little dimple making its first appearance of the day. His green eyes seem to glimmer in the natural lighting of our room, but I would honestly wager that the brightness in his eyes has something to do with the thoughts darting through his beautiful mind.

For fuck's sake, I love him so much.

With his attention still fixed steadily on me, my cheeks start to burn just a little bit when this thought of love crosses my mind. I already knew I loved him, but for real, I get so nervous and fidgety every time I think about it. I rarely ever allow myself to admit to such sentiments, so needless to say, I'm a little freaked out by the fact that I am shamelessly acknowledging what that bubbly feeling in my chest really means.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I ask him tentatively, trying my best to keep my eyes on his, but failing miserably due to the intensity of his gaze. I just can't do it sometimes; I'm too intimidated. Bella Swan might be able to stare endlessly into Edward Cullen's eyes, but we are not about that life here. I apologize if a good, soul-connecting, mutual stare is what you were hoping for, but I don't have Bella's balls to do such a thing.

Harry smiles pleasantly and reaches across me, tucking a lock of my probably crazy hair behind my ear. With a sigh of contentment, Harry lowers himself slightly and props his head up with his arm beneath him.

"I like to admire beauty when it's in front of me," he says, and I find that I can't contain my giggle at his cheesy remark. I mean, really, who says things like that?

Covering my heated cheeks with my hands, I groan and try to roll over so I don't feel so embarrassed by his compliment. Harry is quick to inhibit this movement as he hooks his arm around my waist and pulls me back to face him. I peak at him through my fingers and see him smiling even more broadly than before. Literally, how can a person's smile be this pretty? I don't get it.

Silk || hs Where stories live. Discover now