under the covers [hs au]

chapter thirty-eight.

Samira felt it again.

The same innocence of their first kiss.

The sincerity in Harry's eyes held her heart in a firm grip. The butterflies fluttering in her stomach, the beat thumping in her chest𑁋how ridiculous it was that she let herself fall again even though every muscle in her body fought strenuously to keep her from jumping off the cliff.

Tongues mangled. Harry held Samira's face in his hands, molding their lips passionately. All of the things they could not say spoke in that slow, passionate kiss. When she pulled away for a breath, heat flooded her legs as she stared into his eyes, dark with desire.

But this time, Samira didn't run away. She wasn't doing that again.

His hands tugged on the collar of her jacket as he crashed right back onto her.

Things started to escalate: Harry pulled Samira over, allowing her to straddle him, chest to chest, and hip to hip. Adrenaline pumped in their veins, though it felt more like a drug. Addictive. She couldn't get enough of it, of him. How he slipped his tongue into her mouth, how he jerked her hair in just the way she liked. Their bodies were so mangled that she could feel his heart thump like a hummingbird's in his chest.

Harry's arms clutched her back, embracing her tightly, fingers running over her skin, a trail of goosebumps following them.

She was no longer breathing in air𑁋no, that wasn't an option𑁋she was breathing in him, relishing every moment.

Samira yanked off his beanie, titillating him as she swept her fingertips through his soft locks. Her lips nipped at his ear, then down at his neck, tongue grazing on his veins.

"Fuck," he cursed, moaning. He breathed sharply, neck strained in futile resistance. "Samira, what are you doing?"

She pulled away for a moment, biting her lip.

Had she been wrong? About Harry? About herself? Were they truly made for each other?

But the fire had already been lit, and she was the moth drawn to his flame.

You two are broken up. Leave. End it.

You already made your decision. Get out of the car.

. . . He loves you. Don't hurt him.

They couldn't be friends. They spent an entire day kidding themselves, tension lurking in the background as it waited patiently for the moment they could no longer resist it. And it's not like they could ever go back, not after the electricity crackled off their skin with a single kiss. The love was there, like lighting striking onto her, its mark on her heart indelible.

Harry watched her attentively, patiently, kindly.

She sighed, breath shaking: "I need you."

He'd waited months to hear her say those three words, and now they had rolled off of her tongue with distinctive ease.

But his face fell. His body sunk into the seat as he bit the inside of his cheek.

He swiped his tongue across his lips, swallowing: "Don't say things you don't mean."

"I know you don't believe me," she replied, grimacing,  holding his wrist. "But I mean it."

Harry shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

"No."

Her heart plummeted. A cruel voice jeered: This is how he felt when you first rejected him. He doesn't want you anymore, you little bitch, and it's your fault.