Cover Your Tracks [HS][2014 VERSION]

32. Stockholm Syndrome

"Oh, baby, look what you've done to me. Oh, baby, look what you've done now . . ."

Harry's eyes are focused intently on my face as he tries to read my reaction to his request. He said that he wanted to make the night up to me, but what could that possibly mean? Being here with him was enough.

"What do you mean?" I ask with wide eyes. My heart hammers in my chest as I think of all of the possibilities, and I'm not sure whether it's due to panic or excitement. I stare up at Harry as I wait for an answer, scanning his bare torso mindlessly. The tattoos on his chest are impossible to make out in the dark room, but I know they're there.

Instead of answering my question with words, he does it with actions, his lips somehow finding mine in the dark. We move together as he hovers above me, his hands on either side of my face, his knees either side of my waist. My body sinks down into the mattress as he carefully lowers himself onto his forearms, eliminating the space between us.

The kiss lasts for mere seconds before his mouth travels down to my neck, placing open-mouthed kisses to the skin. My back arches off of the mattress as he finds a sweet spot in the hollow where my neck and collarbone converge. He stays there for a while, his mouth sucking and lapping at the spot that has me wriggling beneath him.

I twist the bed sheets between my fingers and tilt my head back to give him more access. He hums graciously against my skin, vibrations bouncing between our chests as the sound rumbles from deep within him.

Although we are flush against each other, he has managed to keep me comfortable, holding himself up rather than lying on top of me. The feeling of body heat radiating between us is indescribable; I have never been so close to another being before.

As his mouth explores my skin, I get the urge to do some exploring of my own. My hands wrap around his bare torso, traveling across the expanse of his broad back. Different textures are felt along my fingertips, each scar he possesses feeling different than the one before it.

The thought of Harry being in pain causes my heart to ache. I imagine his back being slit open, the rivers that are his veins flooding his skin with crimson. The thought makes me feel sick inside, and I place my hands on Harry's chest in a feeble attempt to get his attention.

When he takes it as something as simple as touch, I apply more pressure in hopes of getting through to him. I'm sure that I have succeeded when Harry raises his head. When I look at him, I see flushed cheeks and soft, puffy lips.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he gushes, dark green eyes scanning my face. "Shit, are you breathing okay? I forgot, I'm sorry-"

As I listen to his voice, I see a person that cares for me, and I know in my heart that I care for him more than I ever have anyone else. When I had met Harry, I wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. Now, I can't savvy the thought of us being apart. I would simply miss him too much.

"Nothing, Harry. Everything is fine." I smile.

His eyebrow furrow together. "Are you sure?" I nod in response, and his parted lips stretch into my favorite crooked smile. I swear, his smile lights up his whole face in such a way that can't help but make others smile, too. It certainly had that effect on me.

I raise my back off of the mattress and place my hand on the nape of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. I fall back against the bed and Harry manages to catch himself before landing on top of me. Friction is created between us as we unconsciously move against each other, causing Harry to let out a groan.

I can't see his face as he pulls away, just the outline of his silhouette as the moon shines down onto his back. He calls my name, and it takes a moment for my mind to slow down enough to form a response.