Adonis | H.S

chapter twenty: a129

Scarlett was the only thing Harry could think about while he was on his private jet to London. He could almost still feel her pressed against him, and he swore if he ran a hand through his curls, it was her dainty hand and not his own.

His claim of not being able to stay with her for long was void as soon as he tasted her.

He'd fucked her mercilessly all night, savouring what he wouldn't be able to have for over a week. Then they fell asleep wrapped up in one another with the lights from the city spotlighting them.

This morning was one of his favourite mornings to date.

Scarlett had slinked out of the sheets early- probably around 6 am, far before him. She tried to avoid waking him with the clattering of pans as she whipped up the perfect recipe for pancakes.

She was well aware he had an early flight and wanted to start his day with sickly sweet syrup and her.

While Harry wasn't happy that he woke up without her, the aroma of something sweet in the air drew him from his groggy sleep. He sauntered into the open space of her apartment, donning nothing but his briefs.

The sight of Scarlett in the kitchen, a pan full of pancake mixture on the stove and a spatula in her hand enticed an odd feeling in his stomach. It was intensified once he saw that she was wearing his black shirt from the night before, two buttons in the center clasped while the rest remained unbuttoned.

"Good morning." She smiled at him before flipping a pancake in the pan.

"Morning." His voice was thick and gravelly with sleep and he wrapped his arms around her from behind, his chin on the top of her head. "Smells good."

"They're almost ready. The coffee pot is still hot, cups are in that cupboard to your left."

Harry hummed gratefully, locating a cup and pouring himself a steaming coffee, adding some oat milk to cool it. He took a sip, watching her over the brim of his mug as she flipped a pancake onto a waiting stack that sat on a plate.

"Sit," She pressed gently, moving the plate in front of him alongside a glass bottle of syrup.

I like lots of syrup. She remembered him telling her.

He watched her as she dug into her own fluffy pancakes in wonder. How she'd wordlessly gotten up that early in the morning and made him a delightful, sticky breakfast was unmistakably the kindest thing anyone had done for him in a long time. An act of warmth where she wasn't expecting anything in return.

Harry drenched his pancakes in syrup and devoured them, small intervals taken to allow sips of coffee.

Her gifted breakfast made it all the harder to leave her. He'd gotten dressed in his clothes from the night before and he could smell her on the shirt from when she'd been wearing it.

He kissed her, and he wondered if she could taste any more delicious, the syrup on her tongue proved that she could.

"Call me if you need anything at all." He said between kisses. "I'll text you Xander's number just in case you can't reach me."

"Okay," She said breathlessly against his mouth.

He managed to make it to the door, prying her hands off his body and chastising her. He opened the door just to close it again and press her against it.

"I really have to go." He insisted through a lazy smile.

"I'm not stopping you." She pointed out the fact that he had her against the door. He really didn't want to go and it fucking showed.