Dear Iris [h.s]

chapter nineteen.

Harry Styles

Her lips on mine, her back against her front door, her hands laced in my hair. It set waves of adrenaline down my spine and caused every thought in my mind to vanish, replaced by the thought of her. Just her.

Meeting her on this walk, seeing her flirtatious smirk and the way she'd hold eye contact whenever we engaged in a conversation - I had to kiss her. I've never wanted to kiss anyone more.

Iris' lips are so soft, and this kiss, this one is different. It's not like the one on the balcony of the town hall, sitting across from each other at this tiny metal table, wine drunk with people downstairs bragging about their riches. This kiss is filled with passion, with lust and it's consuming every inch of my body.

She's beautiful, so fucking beautiful and it kills me looking at her from across diferent rooms pretending I think different. Now I'm here, pressing her up against the door and the thrill of secretly eating this for so long is driving me over the edge, fuelling a burning fire deep within me.

My hand held her face originally as I pressed her up against the door, but as her hands gently tugged on the roots of my hair, mine shifted down her shoulders round to her back, trailing down slowly as I appreciate my position right now.

Iris let out a low groan from the back of her throat, a quiet one that had such a large imp[act i the burning desire inside of me. I pulled away from her briefly, holding her face in my hands as I looked down at her in desperation.

"What are we doing?" She whispered as her hands slowly let go of me, trailing down to my cheeks then resting on my shoulders.

"I'm pretty sure we were kissing, Iris." I said through a nervous swallow.

Iris smirked, then tore her eyes from mine to gaze off behind me, as if the eye contact was too much, "God, this is so wrong."

"Feels so good though." I whispered, my thumb trailing up her cheekbone.

Again, Iris looked up at me, then placed her handover the top of mine, which was still placed on her cheek. She smiled, a genuine smile that gave me butterflies. I've ever had butterflies before, I ever understood what that sensation I thought was made up for the sake of friction felt like until now. Iris Grace gave me butterflies, with her smile alone.

She kissed me, pulled me closer and kissed me like the world depended on it. It was full of hunger and desire, full of lust and those feelings washed over me like a goddamn tidal wave. She pushed me back slightly, barely disconnecting our lips as we stumbled backwards away from her door.

Both desperate, hands all over each other we continued stumbling back until my calves hit the couch and I was sitting down waiting for her to join me. When Iris went to take a seat next to me, my hands grabbed her hips tugging her over into my lap instead which made her smirk. That smirk does things to me.

Sitting beneath her, the strain in my trousers began to grow beneath her hips, and as she began to shift them, the more ruthless we were in this heated kiss. My hands travelled round to her ass, then up her back in an attempt to pull her closer, because no matter how close we get, it doesn't feel close enough.

Iris pulled back and smiled, moved the hair away from my forehead as she looked down at me, familiarising me with that feeling of butterflies again.

"What's up daydreamer?" I asked, placing a hand on her cheek tentatively.

"You're kind of pretty." She said through a slight chuckle, which had my heart skipping a couple of beats and a pink glow taking over my cheeks.

How does she do that? How does she have this effect on me that makes my cheeks flush and heart flutter? She does it with a glance, just one little glance and now she does it with words, meaningless little words.