MY NAME, IS SIR [HARRY STYLES]

~~16~~

I wanted the ground to swallow me whole right there and then. I felt suddenly overly exposed, attempting to use my hands to cover as much of my body as I could.

Harry's eyes shift over to my poor attempt and the wave of sorrow washes across his face. "No, no" he soothes, removing my right hand from my lower stomach and cupping in with his, placing a gentle yet firm kiss to the side of it.

"It's not you... well it is you. But it's not what you think" he attempts to explain.

As he shifts himself up onto his elbow, gaining a small amount of height over where I still lay dormant on the bed, he lets his hand hold the weight of his head.

"It's alright" I breathe out unconvincingly.

"It's not. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable." His fingers trace the length of my arm before falling loosely onto the sheets. "I mean, I guess. I dunno" he stumbles over his words. An evident amount of almost nervous trailing through each word.

"Are you alright?" I ask.

"Yeah, what? Yeah of course." He confirms. "When I do... this... with ladies, I don't want to see them in the morning"

The truth between the lines forced a smirk to present itself upon my lips.

"Charlotte" he mumbles forcing my head to fall in his direction. "I want to see you in the morning"

The rush of lust sends my body into autopilot as I find myself crawling up on-top of him, straddling his waist firmly. Harry follows my lead and props himself up on his hands, almost matching my height.

My eyes roam across every inch of his facial features. I felt like I was being introduced to Harry for the first time right now.

He seemed to have let another one of his walls down and admitting that he wanted more from me than just sex. And it was that confession that made me more attracted than I had ever been toward him up until this point.

"What is it, Charlotte?" His question breaking my endless searching of his features.

I chuckle low. Embarrassed by the reply that crossed my mind.

Using a single finger to shift a fallen strand of hair from my face he repeats his question.

The only reply I had this time was to reconnect my lips with his. The soft, lushness of them melt perfectly with mine.

Although he responded, I could feel just how much he was holding back. I could sense the stiffness. The hesitation, but I needed him.

More than I cared to admit in that moment.

I lapse my tongue across his bottom lip, teasing at the idea that he may allow me to deepen the kiss. It took only a moment, but I felt the slight parting allowing me the chance to advance.

Interlocking my fingers around the back of his neck, I fell the softness of his curls tickle my skin as I pull him as close to me as possible.

I'm equally turned on as I am nervous when I feel his hand make an appearance under my jawline, his thumb simultaneously stroking back and forth along my cheek.

I understood what he meant and in a way I was touched by that, but I had questions as to where that left us.

I wanted him.

I wanted all of him.

And I could feel myself shifting in where I sat as I became more indulged in the moment. Still straddled on top of him, I felt myself push further down to release the need for tension growing by the minute between my thighs.