A Compelling Motive (h.s.)

twenty three

My bare feet hit the kitchen floor of Harry's house, my teeth nipping at my lower lip as I make myself some coffee. My inability to sleep is due to the extreme euphoric feeling running through my body. I've never felt what I felt tonight in my entire life. Harry makes me feel so alive and the feeling of my heart beating against my chest won't let me sleep.

I grab a mug out of the cabinet and I fill it with coffee, moving towards the living room. My eyes wander around the room and I walk towards a bookshelf, noticing all the classics on the shelves. There are numerous familiar titles and I smile, never pegging him to have a bookshelf of all these novels.

When I'm done scoping out the living room, I wander along the halls upstairs, taking note to all the empty rooms filled with either a bed and desk, a bed and other furniture. At the end of the hall lies a closed door, my eyes looking over the door.

My curiosity overcomes myself and I grab the knob, twisting it with no luck. It's locked; it's the only door in the entire house that is. I turn around but jump slightly as I see Harry leaning against the wall. His eyes are trained on me, but he doesn't look mad. All he's doing is watching me. I'm only wearing my panties and his dress shirt, my bare legs on show to him.

I meet his gaze, his body lifting off the wall and making his way towards me. He lifts his hand and brushes my hair behind my ear.

"One day, baby, I'll let you into my office," he whispers, kissing my forehead. "It's a bit of a mess right now from all my work."

I nod, his hand staying on my cheek. "Are you okay?" he wonders, looking down at me. Surely he's curious as to why I'm here and not in the confines of his bed.

"Yes, I just couldn't fall asleep," I explain, and he keeps focus on me.

"Let's go have a smoke, yeah?" he asks, and I nod. He takes my hand, walking down the long hallway with me by his side. He takes me to a sunroom beyond his kitchen and grabs a pack of the table, taking a seat on the couch. I sit beside him, and he hands me a cigarette. We light them, smoking together.

"Darling, I need you to talk to me," he tells me, my hand setting the coffee down to focus on the cigarette. I sit so I'm facing him, my body close to him.

"What do you need me to talk about?" I ask, his hand touching my back.

"Tonight was your first time," he only states, not as a question but as if he's searching for affirmation.

"Yes," I give him, and he looks me in the eyes.

"Tell me what you've done with a man," he says, and I'm taken aback. Most men don't want to know about a woman's past. At least from my experience. It's the past, and usually it's meant to stay like that. In the past.

"I've never had a real relationship because my sister would typically ruin it. I've barely been with a man other than to pleasure each other. It barely happened because it rarely got that far. The men I would be around didn't like that I never put out," I explain, his eyes not losing their intense gaze fixated on me.

"You're really the first at everything," I whisper, his hand meeting my cheek in a gentle caress. He brings the cigarette to his lips and I watch him puff the smoke out.

"I'm glad you're innocent," he tells me, my lips puffing the smoke out just to meet his eyes in a gaze once more. "I am the only one who gets you this way."

The possessive ring to his voice makes me only a little nervous, but I can tell it's meant to be in a way of endearment. He wants to make sure I'm aware that I'm his. I am, and he's mine.

"Tell me about you," I say, knowing full well he has much more experience than I do. Just by the way he was and how he is; he exudes sex appeal.

"No," he states, rather firmly. But I shake my head.

"I told you. You tell me," I persist, and his lips meet in a firm line. It works both ways, and we both need to open up to each other.

He sighs, clearly not wanting to discuss this topic. But I want to know. Perhaps I may not in the long run, but I want to know him inside out. We'll get there.

"Mariana was my first everything. Kiss, relationships, sex, everything. However, I may have mislead you with what our relationship truly was. It was toxic; centered around her and what she wants. Mariana wasn't an angel; she introduced me to cigarettes, smoked weed, and snorted a few times. It was what I thought a relationship was supposed to be like so I stayed with her until the accident," he starts, my fingers extinguishing the cigarette at the same time as him. I watch as he opens himself up, and shortly after sitting back, he tugs me closer.

I rest my head on his shoulder as his arm wraps around me, his hand holding mine in his lap.

"When she died, I didn't know what to do or where to go. Mariana had been the only stable thing in my life for a few years, and with my parents' lack of interest in me, I lost my way. I went down dark paths, Rhiannon, and I did things I'm not proud of. But I built myself back up, realized I needed to do something with myself. So I went to school, found a few women to keep me company at different times throughout my years, but I was missing something in my life and I could not figure out what."

I feel his lips press to the top of my head, my mind taking in the information. I'm at the edge of my seat as he reveals parts of his life I found on the internet, but there is more I didn't know about.

"I could not tell you the number of women, Rhiannon, which sounds terrible on my part. But I kep myself clean. I went to the doctor numerous times to make sure I was safe from anything dangerous to me or any partners. I was picky with them; made sure they weren't the type to jump from man to man. I wasn't that way, so I didn't want them to be. It's not something I'm proud of, but that's what happened," he says, and all I can respond with is a simple nod. He keeps me close, for what I'm sure is fear of me fleeing. But I wouldn't dare. It's the past. The past cannot change.

"That missing piece was finding someone that understands. Rhiannon, you understand better than anyone else just what I am. Who I am. I'm grateful that I have you to count on. I know it took a while to regain your trust, but I have never cared for someone the way I care for you."

He almost sounds nervous in how he expresses his words, but I only move closer into his body. I can feel the impact of his words as he holds me closer, moving his hand to grab my cheek. My head lies on his shoulder and my face nuzzles into his neck. I care for him as he cares for me.

"I'm not going to leave," I tell him, his lips pressing to my forehead.

"I know, baby. I'm not going to leave either," he assures me, kissing my skin once more.

We make our way back to the bedroom, his strong arms tugging me into his chest. He keeps hold on me and I find myself much more comforted knowing what he feels and what made him into the man he is. I won't let him go. Not unless a blatant reason is given to me; I won't let him hurt me.

The sun infiltrates the room and I blink my eyes, unable to move when I attempt to look around. As I look down, I find brown curls splayed lightly against my chest. A smile creeps upon my lips as I take in Harry's position. He has an arm around me and his body rests on mine. I'm not uncomfortable, just not used to the weight of another being on me like this.

I peer down, looking at his sleeping face. He's never been asleep like this in front of me before; his vulnerability showing me he trusts me. My eyes take in the long lashes that rest upon his cheekbones, and his dark tattoos contrasts my very ivory skin.

My hand lifts to his head and I slowly start to run my fingers through his curls, my lips pressing a soft kiss his forehead. It triggers him to tighten his grip, my inability to hold in my laugh cut short. I wrap my arms around him and he shifts upward, lifting his head to look at me as I laugh.

A huge smile grows upon his sleepy features as I can't seem to contain my laughter. I fear my laughter is masking my true feelings for him; feelings I'm still too scared to admit to myself.

He looks down at me with those big green eyes and I reach up, grabbing his cheeks. As soon as I do so, he automatically leans down to me. Our smiles meet in a kiss and I'm happy this is how we woke up.