𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋! | harry styles

𝐗𝐈𝐕

I wake with a start, my heart pounding and my mouth dry. The edges of a dream press against the back of my eyelids, but the more awake I become the harder it is to keep a grasp on it.

Trying to capture the last fragments of the dream, I close my eyes. My body tightens as I see flashes of ink and skin. I see hands that I'm dying to feel the touch of and long fingers dancing over areas that send shivers through me. I see clear green eyes and the shape of a mouth that presses against mine in a way that makes my skin flush and my knees weak.

I close my eyes and I see Harry, his body pressed against mine.

Embarrassingly, I don't realize my hand is tucked down the front of my underwear until I move my fingers and the burst of sensation makes my knees clamp shut around my wrist. Gasping, my heart kicks up a beat and the skin on my arms prickles. I swallow hard around a throat tight with arousal. My fingers are slick enough that I know I'm close, and the beat of the pulse thumping between my legs is a sure sign that I'm teetering on the edge of something.

Hesitating for a moment, I listen for sounds of movement, my cheeks flushing as I contemplate what I'm about to do.

There's nothing. Not a single sound.

Slowly, my legs release the death grip they have on my hand, and I close my eyes. I breathe deep, letting my body relax. The memory of Harry's lips against my neck the night before is enough to make my hand move again, and instantly I'm right there. I'm so wound up that all it takes is a few minutes and a few passes of my fingers and I'm burying my face into my pillow and bucking my hips into my hand. The blood pools in my cheeks and my hairline dampens instantly as white spots explode behind my eyelids and heat pulses through my body, making me squirm and buck and writhe until the feeling subsides, leaving me flushed and soft-limbed.

Wow.

Taking a shaky breath in, I throw the covers back, delighting in the feel of the cold air against my heated skin.

I can't remember how long it's been since I felt the urge to touch myself. Sure, there have been flashes of lust or fleeting moments of desire for the touch of another, but that's all they've ever been-fleeting. Waking up so turned on that I can barely breathe is definitely something new.

Of course now that I remember how good it feels-to release the tension that feels like it's been coiled up in my body for months-I'm immediately thinking about doing it again.

Smiling, I bury my face into my pillow, feeling a mix of sated and embarrassed. I can't believe just got off thinking about Harry. How will I be able to look at him again without remembering?

Suddenly the sound of something hitting the floor in the kitchen breaks the silence in the apartment. I wait a beat, waiting for what's next, and then, "Oh-oh..." yells Cody from the kitchen. "Mommaaaaa!" And just like that, the moment is gone.

Cody and I spend the day playing games and sitting in the park. We watch some cartoons, and I make soup and toast for dinner later, too relaxed to do any more. Harry is out, but God knows the space is nice, the chance to breathe and clear my head.

He's letting me take whatever this is at my own pace, letting me lead the way, and for that I'm grateful. But after this morning, how can I trust myself to set a steady pace? It's dizzying how quickly I'm falling for him, and scary how much I'm not sure if I want to.

I was sure after Cody was born that there would never be any room left in my heart. That having him would fill my quota of love to give. When he was born it was like my body automatically made room in my heart for him, and the first time he looked up at me with those so familiar blue eyes it already felt natural. Like breathing, blinking, laughing, I loved him. I was in love with him. And I thought that was it for me.