All of Me (Harry Styles) - Book 2

Chapter 92: "My dreaming?"

-Ava's POV-

I smooth out the delicate fabric, my fingers fiddling with it in nervousness.

It's ridiculous I'm nervous.

I know when he sees me the look on his face will be anything but disappointment. I know his eyes will gaze over my body in adoration.

But still... I'm faintly trembling as I glance in the mirror and push my long brown hair off my shoulders.

Harry's day was filled with interviews, and I finally went into the office. It felt strange as I got back into the swing of things, but I welcomed it.

Jenna had stepped up while I was away and she'd found the perfect assistant to help her. But there was so much left undone in my absence. So much that it was obvious things would suffer if I took an extended step back. If I went away on tour with Harry.

There was no middle ground... If I left the organizations I took care of would suffer, but if I didn't leave... I would suffer.

Tour rehearsals in London start in less then a week. Harry had hinted about me joining him a few times, but he'd never just come out and asked me. I could tell he wanted to. But the thought of me saying no kept him from doing it.

But I'd made my decision. I'd went over all my options. And I was going to tell him. Tonight.

I glance down at my stomach, straining my neck to see if my scars were visible through the sheer fabric.

I know there's really no point, but it can't be helped. They aren't just a reminder to me of what happened. Every time Harry so much as gets a glimpse of them I see it in his eyes. Pain. Guilt.

I take a deep breath, trying to shake off how worked up I am over what's about to happen.

It's no use.

I can already hear my heartbeat in my ears, my pulse in my fingertips.

It's been almost six weeks.

Six weeks since I've felt his touch intimately skimming over my body, claiming it as his.

Six weeks since I've seen him lose himself as he moves over me.

Six weeks since I've felt the overwhelming pleasure that only Harry has ever given me.

Six long, torturous, and tension filled weeks.

He has no clue that I've been changing into the lingerie he's only ever seen a picture of as he fetches me a bottle of water.

I claimed I was thirsty to get him out of bed and downstairs so I could quickly change. He's been so patient with me. So loving and caring. And showing amazing restraint as I teased him over the past few weeks.

I swallow my anxiety and flip the bathroom light off as I step into the bedroom.

The lighting is soft, only a small table lamp giving the room a gentle glow.

I'm still standing in the doorway as Harry enters the bedroom, closing the door behind him without glancing up.

By the time he does he's halfway to the bed, his eyebrows furrowing as he finds it empty.

His eyes shoot towards me, realization washing over him as he freezes. The bottle of water falls from his hand, hitting the floor with a thud, but he doesn't seem to notice.

His eyes are glued to me. Taking me in. Darkening as they rake up and down my body at such a slow pace I feel I might combust.

He gulps, finally finding his voice as his his eyes meet mine. "My dreaming?"