Irresistible (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)

88: "The Monster In Me"

(A/N: Meant to have this done yesterday but I saw a member of CHASM yesterday (more details in A/N at the end) and I obviously had to tell everyone I know about it, hence the delay in editing! Enjoy the chapter, my lovely readers. It was one of my favorites to write, as is the next one incidentally.)

His fingers dip into the curve of my spine birthing goosebumps as the callous tips skim all the way up to the base of my neck. His digits sink into my hair, pulling my head back from where I've had it resting on his shoulder as gentle touches occupy our time.

"Do you really want to do this?"

Our passage up here was rushed, frantic. We barely made it through my front security gate before his lips were on mine once more. The same spark there like it was the first time he cupped my cheeks and kissed me in his hallway.

But there is also so much more to it right now. There is a longing, a deep sincere understanding of one another embedded in the kiss that pulls me into his orbit further.

Or am I pulling him into mine?

Once we were behind closed doors the clothes started to come off... in the most innocent way possible.

I pushed his coat off his shoulders as he kicked off his shoes and took off his belt, leaving a trail of his garments through the hall to the base of the stairs. See, told you it was innocent, Harry and I aren't Noah and Allie just yet.

He did carry me up the stairs though.

Next was his shirt that I somehow managed to pull out from under my tight grip around his waist and over his head before dropping it on the floor at the top of the stairs, hopefully, all an indicator for Monica to screw off if she decides to come back prematurely.

Anyway, that's what led us here, sheer desperation and pure love for one another, both of us only able to cope by avoiding and turning to the physical, reaching for a feeling, a connection to stay grounded.

Harry didn't let me go, he didn't even let my feet touch the floor, entering my room and sitting down on the end of my bed after the door was closed and his grip on me was secure.

Before him, I had no idea how reassuring the human touch could be. Of course, laying with Harry has always been a comfort. Going to sleep every night with his arms around me as ruined sleeping in any other way but how we are now is a totally different sensation. We are in such an uncertain place at the moment but feeling his hand wrap around the curve of my waist and the steady weight of his chest pressed against mine is the most gratifying and calming sensation I could ask for.

He's my port in the storm, I think he always will be even if he's the reason for the turbulent weather system.

And I want him. I want all of him.

Harry asks whether it's okay before he does anything to me.

When he unfastens the buttons on my top. When he pushes the fabric off my shoulders. When he brushes my hair off to the side and when he leans in to kiss the curve of my neck.

It's sweet but that sweetness is also infuriating.

Where is the selfish over-emotional prick I faced the other morning? Where is the man who accused me of being like his ex-girlfriend? Where's the stranger who ever so politely asked me to leave his home with no indication on when I'd be welcomed back?

That guy is easy to be angry at. I can justify that sort of rage toward that kind of person but to adequately feel that way toward the Harry who is holding me so gently and touching me so lovingly is a far more difficult task.