Psycho ➳ H.S.

Chapter 10*

NOTE: This chapter contains detailed, graphic scenes. Please read at your own discretion.

"So what are you going to tell them?" Carissa whispered to Harry as the family looked around the house. It was a week after he offered to let her stay with him, and Harry got in touch with friends of a friend who were in desperate need of a home to move into. The had spent countless hours making sure everything was perfect for them because Harry advised her to sell without a realtor. "You'll save thousands" he said, and she realized he was right. Today was a make or break- not many people were keen on buying from private sellers.

"You're only going to keep a few things, right?"

She nodded.

"Okay. Leave it to me."

Harry caught up to the husband, wife and their kids in the kitchen while Carissa paced back and forth in her bedroom. It was such a change- she hadn't lived anywhere else for three years, and the idea of starting new ignited anxiety in her stomach. However, she knew that he would keep her grounded. Shortly after, they all came into the master bedroom.

"The best part is that if you decide to get this place, it'll be fully furnished. Exactly how you see it, except...?" Harry bargained, turning to Carissa because he was unsure of what she wanted to keep.

Her attention was fixed on the small children- an older boy of about five, and a younger girl of about three- walking hand in hand. The boy was showing his sister around Carissa's room, playing with the stuffed animals that she had set out to make the area more family friendly. The boy seemed rather fond of the girl, selecting different toys for her to try out. The girl pushed away her brother's affectionate hugs and kisses, more interested in the toys than him, but it was all in the name of love.

"Don't make a mess. Ben! I'm so sorry-" the woman, Jennifer, apologized on behalf of her children, snapping Carissa out of her trance.

"Oh, don't worry about it. They're lovely," Carissa dismissed, smiling.

"They get mischievous," she sighed, shaking her head, "I'm surprised they're getting along. Do you have children?"

Harry and Carissa looked at each other and started to laugh, somewhat nervously, and shook their heads.

"Carissa, what are you keeping?" Harry asked, reiterating his earlier question in hopes of redirecting their conversation from them to the apartment.

"The books and some stuffed animals. Everything else stays with the apartment."

Damien and Jennifer dropped their jaws.

"Everything? For $400,000? There's a catch, right?" Damien questioned, shocked.

"No catch. I want to move out and I need to do it soon. $400,000, fully furnished," replied Carissa.

"We'll take it!" the woman exclaimed after consulting her husband. She turned to her kids. "Did you hear that, guys? This is your new home!"

The two toddlers shrieked with joy and ran to their parents, telling them of what they would do once they moved in. Harry shook hands with the couple, as did Carissa, and filled out paperwork in the living room. At one point, Harry took a break to play with the youngsters, bringing them around and playing hide and seek, singing songs that the boy insisted he sing (which delighted Carissa- she hadn't heard him sing since the night in the car when he drove her home), and giving them small cups of ice cream.

He carried the little girl in his arms most of the time, except for when the boy wanted to he held too. Harry let him climb up on his shoulders as he zoomed around the apartment, mimicking the sounds of an airplane while the girl chased them. Their laughter filled the whole apartment, a melodious joy that could've permeated through the hearts of the coldest people. It warmed her heart to see how well he interacted with children- not that she expected anything else.

After they were all finished with the papers, Harry and Carissa led the family down to the lobby and out onto the sidewalk.

"Thank you so much for adding in all that stuff. It means so much to us," Damien remarked.

"Don't mention it. I really hope you enjoy the place, it really is fantastic," replied Carissa.

"What do you say Ben?" Jennifer cooed, who had her son in her arms.

"Thank you for the nice house!"

Harry high-fived the little boy, then bent down to offer a hug to the girl. She ran to his arms and giggled as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Remember that hiding spot I told you about, okay? It'll come in handy someday," he whispered in her ear. She nodded and stepped back, waving at the lanky man with the grin on his face, dimple quite visible. They all set off to their car, parked at the end of the road, after acquiring the key. Carissa gave Harry a tight embrace of relief once they were gone.

"I didn't think we'd sell in a week," she said.

"It was good timing," he replied modestly, "they really needed a place."

"Or maybe you're just convincing."

"Maybe," was all he said. She couldn't help but notice the hint of uncertainty in his voice. She stopped thinking about it as soon as he offered to help her pack.

The rest of the day was spent putting things in boxes and organizing the last few objects around the apartment. Carissa was insistent that her home was kept in order, so it wasn't hard to find everything she needed. She donated all of her non-perishables to the food bank a few days ago, and she and Harry created various dishes out of her leftover vegetables, meats and cheeses a day after that. Her cupboards were clean, and her closet and bookshelf were the same. That night was spent sitting in front of the television watching a horror film from the sixties and eating Chinese take-out, huddled together under a blanket until they passed out in each other's arms. The morning after, they were gone.

Harry piled all of her books, stuffed toys and clothes into his car and they made their way to his flat. The two of them hauled the boxes to his home. He tried to impress her by refusing to let her carry anything other than her plush toys and carrying all three of the boxes with clothes in them simultaneously, but strained himself and ended up only carrying her books up. He left her in his home to go get the other boxes.

Carissa was once again enveloped by his sweet, musky scent- the smell of his whole apartment hit her at every angle. The look of it hadn't changed much except for the abundance papers scattered upon the coffee table beside his laptop in the living room. It irked her how they sat atop the table in a flurry- Harry, much like herself, was surprisingly very neat, so the fact that anything was out of line, like the papers, struck her as peculiar.

She kicked off her shoes and dragged her books and stuffed animals down the hall to his bedroom. It was quite exciting to finally have somewhere new to stay.

Upon her arrival into Harry's room she noticed a slight change, but nonetheless a new addition: a photo in the picture frame. Curious, she stepped over to take a closer look when she stopped and clutched her chest, a gasp leaving her lips. She couldn't believe what her eyes were transmitting to her brain. She couldn't process what was going through her head. She had to take a seat on the bed as she stared at what she saw.

It was the picture of them at the beach on Independence Day. The photo of them grinning like fools and holding up their sandwiches; the photo of her nose scrunched up as she smiled, while he showed off his pearly whites; the photo that could've told their whole story bit by bit. She could still hear the seagulls flying above their heads, the chatter of the patriotic crowd, and his voice counting them down to take the picture; she still felt the kiss he pressed to her cheek as if he had just done so a minute ago.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry about that," his voice came from the door, referring to the item she found. He had managed to heave all of her clothes up by himself and set them in the room. She turned to him, holding up the frame.

"You got this developed?"

"Yeah. I don't know...it was a decent picture, so I just...I needed a picture, okay?" he faltered in explaining, growing annoyed as her face changed into loving and warm, like how someone would look at a baby.

"That's so cute!" she squealed, snickering at him. He groaned and walked towards her, stepping between her parted legs, leaning down, then silencing her with a harsh kiss.

"Don't make me prove to you that I'm anything but cute, princess," he growled. She bit her lip at the thought of him spanking her again. They kept kissing feverishly, their hands wandering to places they would normally keep to themselves, until they were interrupted by Carissa's cell phone ringing.

"For fuck's sake," Harry huffed. She could tell he was frustrated and needed some sort of release- they hadn't had sex since she agreed to stay with him a week ago. She hadn't even noticed that he was supporting himself on top of her as they lay on the bed, or that her hands were just about to pull his shirt up. He went over to her bag, which was on the floor by the box of books, and looked at the screen.

"Lucas?"

Her heart stopped. She hadn't talked to him since the day before she was forced to quit. He must have been so concerned about her, but a part of her didn't want to answer. Still, she knew that he deserved to know about was going on. She held out her hand. He scowled.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Because he doesn't know about any of this."

"He doesn't have to."

"Just give me the phone Harry," she sighed, and he reluctantly followed her order, hesitantly placing the ringing device in her hand. Carissa remembered that nobody knew Roselle had moved in with Harry and decided it'd be better to tell someone, just in case. She picked it up; Harry grabbed the phone from her briefly to put it on speaker.

"Hello?"

"Carissa? Where the hell have you been? I thought you were busy with work, and then Vince told me you quit when I visited today? Why? Why haven't you called me?"

"Lucas, Lucas, slow down. I'm fine."

"I was worried sick!"

She knew Lucas was truly worried by the implications in his voice. Perhaps telling him that she was staying with Harry could wait for another day.

"You don't need to worry so much about me, Lucas."

"But I do! What am I supposed to do? Stop caring about you?"

"I didn't say that-"

"Where are you?"

Carissa gulped and looked at Harry. He furrowed his brows and shrugged, leaving her to come up with her own answer. She sighed and clamped her eyes shut, bracing herself for his scolding.

"I'm at Harry's," she admitted.

"Carissa, I thought I told you-?"

"Told her what?" Harry demanded, snatching the phone off the bed and turning the speaker off as he brought it up to his ear, "What exactly did you tell her, McCoy?"

"Harry, stop-"

"Don't you fucking hurt her, Styles, or I swear to god-"

"What are you going to do, huh? I'm just gonna kick your ass like I did last time."

So it was true. She couldn't imagine Harry being violent at all, yet he had just confirmed it. Lucas' voice was so elevated that she could hear it despite the fact that it wasn't being magnified by the speakerphone for her to hear.

"Harry, please stop."

"He's trying to turn you away from me!" he bellowed.

She could hear Lucas crying out, "Carissa, get out of there!" but she chose to ignore it.

"I'm not going anywhere," she replied calmly, gently taking the phone from him and pressing the end button, "I promised you I wouldn't."

His anger toned down significantly at her words, his scowl softening into a slight frown. He chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to decide what to say.

"I didn't mean to raise my voice."

"I know."

"Are you upset with me?"

"Of course not."

He huffed in regret as he ran his hand through his hair, planting a kiss on her forehead before leaving the room without another word. She groaned, rummaging in her box of clothes for sleepwear. She found his old pajamas that he lent to her when he brought her here the first time. She decided she'd wear them. Carissa changed out of her clothes and into his, then lay on the bed, yearning for an escape from everything she had just witnessed.

Everything was quite strange. As she had learned from a friend who had taken psychology in university a while back, someone who had certain habits- in Harry's case, it was neatness- wouldn't break them unless they were in distress, and even then it'd be hard to shift their personalities so much. The flurry of scattered sheets on his coffee table was unlike him because everything else was so tidy. What was bothering him?

Furthermore, why was Lucas so concerned that Harry would hurt her? Why was he insisting that she leave? And why didn't Harry say that he wouldn't hurt her? For ten in the morning, her day had already been eventful.

On the other hand, the man who had just stepped into the other room; the man who had been playing with children the day before; the man who had captured her fleeting heart from their first encounter- he was undoubtedly the only person she wanted to be with right now.

In that moment, she realized that Harry probably wouldn't come back to her anytime soon. He needed to cool down, so she took the chance to rest for a while. She found that in the short span of time between awake and asleep, she didn't know what to do with her hands; they missed him terribly.

When she woke, the light was still shining outside. The clock read 12:33 PM. She heard shuffling in the living room.

"Harry?" she called, but no answer. Only more shuffling. She couldn't tell if she was inquisitive or uneasy.

She got up and slowly crept to the door, peeking out and seeing Harry push his sofa across the floor towards the kitchen. He was wearing a black tank top, which nicely displayed his lean arms and expansive shoulders.

"Harry?" she called again. He paused mid-push and turned his head her way, wiping the sweat off his brow before waving at her. He motioned for her to come over.

"What are you doing?" she noticed that he had completely rearranged his living room so that all the furniture was piled on the other side near the front door blocking off the entrance to the kitchen. There was green tape sectioning off the ceiling and light switches from the walls, and cans of paint sat upon the painting tarp on the floor.

"I've been meaning to do this for a while now, but I never really had the motivation. I figured that since you're here, I should make the place more...homely."

He finished pushing the sofa (while she indulged in the tensing of his muscles at his last nudge) and stood beside her, crossing his arms.

"What colour?"

"I don't know. I was hoping you'd help me choose."

Harry knelt down beside the cans and pried them open with a screwdriver. Thick colours of maroon, taupe, navy blue, and grey met her eyes.

"Why are they all so boring?"

"Would you rather I paint the walls yellow and hang up pictures of horses?" he scoffed. She bent down and swirled the paints with their stirring sticks. She held up the stick with the maroon paint on it.

"This one's okay. I've never painted walls before though."

"Me either," he grinned, grabbing two paint trays and filling them up with the dark red liquid, "Go change and we'll paint together."

She listened, going back to the bedroom to change into a pair of old shorts and a tank top. She returned to find him contemplating which wall to paint first.

"Okay, ready," she announced, picking up one of the paint rollers and dipping it into the deep, blood-like hue. She felt quite proud to have the honour of helping him colour his home, especially when it looked particularly drab when she was first here. Her pride didn't last long, however- as she neared him, she tripped on the screwdriver Harry left lying on the floor. She let out a shriek and Harry dove to catch her, not realizing that his face would be covered in maroon paint as she fell into his reach.

They both sat on the floor in shock- him covered in the dark red hue and her looking like a deer in the headlights. Carissa suddenly burst into laughter, guffawing at Harry's misfortune. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and huffed.

"I'm so sorry-" she said between giggles. It was obvious that she got a kick out of it, but he knew her apology was far from sincere. He reached for the closest can of paint- the rich, navy blue- and dipped his hand in. She backed away. "Harry, don't you dare-"

But he did dare. Before she could react, he smeared the paint on his palm onto her face. Her muffled protests were followed by a squawk of annoyance.

"Now we're even," he said smugly, getting up to go get a towel. She grabbed the can of taupe paint and a handful of paint from it, flicking it at him. He dodged most of it, save some drops that landed on his arm, and the paint ended up on the wall behind him. "Great, look- now we have to paint our walls that hideous shade."

Our; the word tasted strange in his mouth. He remembered that she wasn't planning on staying with him forever. He wanted to correct himself, but she threw paint at him again, this time getting a large amount on the middle of his shirt.

"I don't know how well you think you know me, Styles," she said with a tone of superiority, "but I always win."

The look in her eye- the one that reflected her strong sense of competition- ignited something in him.

"You're really sexy when you talk like that, princess, but the thing is," he began, pushing her into the wall and pinning her there with his pelvis, staring deep into her hazel eyes, "I'm the one that always wins."

It didn't take much for her to bring the paint can up to his chest and drown him in colour. She got a lot of it on herself too, but he was the one that gasped as the cold liquid flowed down his chest under his shirt. He took a step back and narrowed his eyes at her. Her legs were covered in the paint, along with the painting tarp, and she still had some left in the can. She raised an eyebrow in triumph, as if to say "your turn".

He chuckled, shaking his head and taking his shirt off. He could see her eyes swallow the sight of his body. His tattoos were partially covered by the paint dripping from his collarbones down to the top of his boxers peeking out from under his jeans. As quickly as he could, he reached for the navy blue paint by the base and swung it in her direction, letting the paint fly towards her at an unearthly rate. It splattered all across the wall and onto her clothes. Her jaw dropped as she stared down at her body covered in blue. He approached her again.

"You're dirty," he smirked, his fingers finding their way to the hem of her top, "maybe we should take this off?"

She ducked down, slipping out of her top and running towards the remainder of the maroon paint in her bra and shorts and running back to him. In his confusion, she managed to empty the remainder onto the top of his head, covering his curly brown locks in red. She laughed harder than ever as he groaned while he wiped the flecks of paint away from his eyes and lips. She took her finger, which was covered in blue, and traced her initials onto his chest.

"I win."

He tossed her shirt to the floor and raised his hands in surrender, but in a swift lunge he reached for her and wrapped her in his arms, transferring the paint from his body to hers. She laughed as he picked her up and twirled her around, kissing her stained lips with his own. She wrapped her legs around his waist while he hoisted her up into the air. Again, his strength never failed to strike her in awe.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he murmured into the skin of her neck. He walked over to a patch of wall without paint on it and pressed her back into it before setting her down carefully and breaking from her. He turned to observe the room.

"There's more paint on the floor than there is on the walls," she pointed out, resting her head on his arm while she stood beside him.

"I like it," he replied, cocking his head to the side and admiring the splotches of maroon, navy and taupe spread out on the surfaces, "it looks like modern art."

"We should sign it. You know, because it's art."

Harry looked at her in confusion, but soon realized what she was doing. She took her palm and dipped it in the grey paint. The expanse of her hand was covered in the thick liquid, and she beckoned for him to come over and do the same.

While he coated his palm in grey, he watched her return to the spot where he had pushed her up against and place her hand upon the wall, marking it. He made his way over as well and placed his hand beside hers. They released their hands together.

Their palm prints differed in size and width- hers petite and elegant, like a piano player's or a ballet dancer's, and his large and rough, representative of how much he contrasted with her- yet they made a perfect match. She was quite certain that chance or fate or whatever it was that brought them together knew exactly what it was doing. She wasn't someone who believed in horoscopes or the alignment of stars; she was someone who believed in facts and science. She felt safety in numbers and fully developed statistics, but she also knew that life wasn't a calculator; one didn't press buttons to generate a certain answer. She liked explanations, no matter how rash and radical; Harry was the only thing in her life without one, but for some reason she was okay with that.

"Would you look at that?" he started, slipping his hand into hers, "You're a part of my flat now."

"It'll be a reminder of how I won and you lost," she teased. He put on an impish smirk and picked her up, carrying her over his shoulder.

"Harry! Fuck- put me down!" she whined as he brought her to the bathroom. He set her down in the narrow shower and immediately pulled his jeans off, leaving his boxers on. As soon as he finished, he stepped inside with her and hooked his index fingers under the band of her shorts and tugged lightly, egging her to let him take them off.

"Shower with me," he whispered breathlessly, nibbling on her ear once he pushed her hair away.

"Was that a question or a request?" she mimicked him by playing with the thin fabric of his garments.

"It was more of a demand, actually- besides, it's not like you can resist."

She raised an eyebrow at the complacent look on his face.

"Are you challenging me?"

"It won't be a challenge if I know I'm going to win."

"You know what? Fine. What are we playing?"

He simpered, pondering what he wanted the game to consist of.

"Ever play the 'no touching' game? The one where you have to kiss the other person and the first one to touch the other loses?"

"Of course," she scoffed. He pouted, uneasy to the fact that she wasn't really all pure.

"How about the loser has to cook all the meals for a week?" he suggested. She snorted in amusement.

"You're on," she smirked with confidence, slapping his hands away from her body and pulling her shorts and undergarments down, then unclasping her bra and tossing all of them outside the shower so she was naked in front of him. Her attempts to subtly push her backside out in his direction, flaunting her curves, clearly caught his attention. She turned the tap and let the warm water rinse the paint from her body and trickle down the hills and valleys of her frame. She paid no attention to him, using her hands to wash herself until she was free of all the colour he had stained her with moments before.

"It's not fair if you're just going to put on a show and expect me to stay still."

"I'm just showering. If you think I'm being distracting, don't look," she replied shrewdly, turning back to see a very impatient Harry. He had taken off his boxers while she was rinsing off, and he was trying to hide his hardening length behind clasped hands. "And you're not obscuring anything."

He huffed in exasperation. It was times like these when the both of them were in close proximity to one another that she felt quite small in comparison to him. That didn't let her feel inferior, however- if anything, she felt the need to be more competitive, especially with someone who competed constantly for his career. She made a great effort to drag her hands across the pieces of skin she knew he liked to touch- her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, her neck, and she even bent down to scrub her ankles clean- with soft mewls escaping her every now and then. She handed him the shower head, and he glowered in frustration.

It wasn't as if Carissa had the easy way out- little did he know that she revelled in the way his muscles flexed; how his skin would pull tightly against his tissues and tendons, giving his body the definition he possessed. His tattoos taunted her, beseeching her to kiss every single one of them. She was desperate to feel his skin upon hers, driving her to expire for him again and again and again. She watched the colour wash from his skin and hair down the drain. He turned to her and grinned.

"No touching, princess," he reminded. Harry leaned into her and placed a gentle kiss to her lips, allowing her to savour all the passion he put into it. The steam in the shower, along with their hastening heartbeats, caused them to breathe deeper. Carissa backed into the side wall and kept her hands behind her back, while his hands were placed upon the tiles above her head. Their tongues found each other and moved to half-time, waltzing together. He brought her lower lip between his teeth and tugged on it, opening his eyes to capture hers. He let her lip bounce back into its place as he breathed in when she exhaled.

The both found it increasingly more difficult to keep up with the game. They kissed slowly in attempts to draw the other out of sanity so they would use their hands to touch, but neither of them would give in. She teased him, pulling away from kisses once he was getting into it which earned her a glare and a "just wait until I win, princess, and we'll see if that cheekiness of yours gets rewarded or punished" on his end. She used her tongue to flick his own and sucked on his lip until it was swollen with lust.

By now, they were on the edge of insanity and neither of them could control themselves much longer. Their breathing became audible over the sound of the water dripping onto the shower floor. His hands were threatening to drop down to her breasts and squeeze; to make her moan out and feel good, but he knew she couldn't win- especially not when she had already won their first game. Carissa tried to ignore his solid shaft standing out straight at her- it would've grazed her body if he wasn't trying with all his might to keep his pelvis as far away from hers as possible.

"You're going to lose, Harry," she mocked. Her voice was sultry, and her body was unhealthily bodacious; he sized her up, racking his eyes from her head to her feet, and had to pause himself from thinking about how she looked with her hands behind her back, staring up at him with those innocent, hazel eyes.

"And what makes you say that, love?" he hummed against her lips as he kissed her. He pulled away only to see her sly smirk radiating on her face. She went in for another kiss- a sloppy, forceful one- and moaned; moaned his name, moaned "touch me baby; feel how wet I am", moaned "you feel so good, baby", moaned "tell me how bad I'm being for teasing you; show me what you do to bad girls".

"You wanna know what I do to bad girls, princess?"

She bit her lip and nodded her head.

And he was the first to lose the bet. His hands instantly went to the small of her back and pulled her in, then used his right to squeeze her ass and give it a hard slap. Her shriek echoed throughout the room.

He kissed her in deliriousness and a lack of sense; his hands seemed to possess a mind of their own as the travelled everywhere by themselves. The hot water from the shower percolated down their bodies. They had little space to move about, but that didn't stop him from peppering nibbles down her body; he kneeled down and lifted her left leg so that it rested on his shoulder and suctioned his lips to a part of skin no more than an inch to her core. He started to suck harsher and harsher, giving her no time to brace herself. She grimaced, tugging on his wet hair to relieve herself of the pain. He finished off his last mar and detached his lips, admiring the deep purple bruise he had created.

Directly following, he dove in and kissed her clit, positioning her so she was above his face. She gasped as his tongue found its way into the confines of her body, lapping up her excitement. He moved furiously, fervent and driven towards making sure she enjoyed her victory against him- her dirty words clearly deserved a prize that only he could deliver. The free leg that she stood on trembled; he steadied it with his palm and continued his oral torment. His own free hand couldn't resist; he jerked himself off to the sound of his name coming out from her throat in weak whimpers, begging him to proceed. He kept his eyes open, observing how she reacted to his touch; she was the most beautiful person he'd ever come across. Harry held her hand, allowing her to grip it tightly as she tried to form coherent sentences to express her gratitude- she, however, could not.

It was odd for Carissa to think that her conscience was slowly fading away- she didn't scold herself for satiating her desires with the thought of him. Her fantasies didn't occur as often because she knew that he wasn't unattainable anymore; if anything, he was in her reach, just off by a couple of feet so that she had to stretch her arms to hold his hand for as long as she wanted. She never roamed with a hungry heart and always had her head on high alert, but Harry left her craving for things she had not lusted after before, and her brain completely sedated.

The sight of his emerald eyes staring up at her from his kneeling position drove her mad. He was so concentrated, growling into her soft skin like a malnourished predator who finally found something to eat after being deprived. His talented tongue left her with tremors washing through her body- she was close to her high; she felt it like one would feel an oncoming train. He slurped her warmth up before he pulled her down into his position and stood up; a heaviness swam in his gut, wrenching as he came on her face. He couldn't keep his eyes open long enough to see the pleasure on her face arrive. Though he was dizzy, he could make out the sight of her wiping his discharge off her visage and licking her fingers clean. He leaned down and kissed her dearly, tasting himself on her lips and tongue. He lathered his body in the musky shower gel, rinsed off under the shower and pushed the shower door open- she frowned and got up.

"We're not...continuing?" she asked, sounding disappointed.

"You didn't know?" he replied, amusement tainting his tone, "You wanted me to show you what I did to 'bad girls'- I leave them unsatisfied."

"You dick! You're not serious, are you?"

He toweled off and flashed his boyish smile at her, clearly getting the reaction he wanted from her.

"Congrats, princess. You've taken my title away from me," he replied with a grin before stepping out and shutting the door. She scoffed at the indication that he had played this game before with thirsty harlots, but she was no Jezebel; she would prove to him that she could be both sensible and sensual; display classiness while keeping him satisfied; and most of all, make him regret his last act of denying her of a climax.

She had never felt such frustration towards winning a bet before; usually she would be proud, and frankly a little vain. This, however, was only just the start. He wanted to play games? Fine. He wanted to compete against her? Sure. She could dish out just as much as he could.

She dried off (after taking another complete shower; she had never felt dirtier) and realized she didn't have clothes to change into. Carissa unlocked the door; to her surprise, Harry found clothes for her to wear: a pair of her clean shorts and one of his shirts. She made her way back to the bedroom to see him lying on the bed- ankles crossed, left arm cushioning his head against the headboard, dressed in nothing but a pair of gym shorts- changing the channels on the television with the remote.

"Is this what you always do at three in the afternoon?" she asked, nudging her head towards the screen.

"Nope. I'm usually at the pool."

"Why aren't you there now?"

"Because," he started, rolling the comforter back and inviting her to come sit with him. She climbed in and curled up beside him. Harry pulled the blankets back up, wrapping his arm around her and cocooning her in warmth while he kept searching for something to watch. "I want to spend time with you."

He kissed her temple, then turned her head with his index on her chin and kissed her on the lips. The grazing of their mouths was something much more intimate and extraordinary; each one was filled with more affection than the last. She found it rather endearing when he touched her face while they connected. His fingers would grasp her cheek, then slowly fade, trickling the pads down until the disappeared from her face and found her hand, interlocking them.

When they stopped, they gazed at each other; neither of them said anything, but in that moment where silence ebbed and flowed between space and reality, both of them were certain that things between them would never be the same again.

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