Getaway Car [HS]

Chapter Sixteen*

After ages of restraint, she leans forward to kiss him. And it's a very different kiss from the first one they shared together in the parking garage.

This one begins gently.

It's a timid peck of their lips that beckons them onward for another, then another, and leads to him deepening the kiss with his hand slipping around to cup the back of her neck for support. She can sense him fighting himself in it. As he always does when they do this, he tries and fails to tear himself away before giving out and surrendering to her thrall.

His body presses into hers, keeping her trapped tightly against the table, and she can't stop herself from letting out a noise of pleasure into his mouth as a reaction.

"This feels familiar," she whispers in the few seconds they part.

He doesn't give her ample time to say it before dipping his face back to hers with a hunger she's witnessed multiple times now.

She isn't wrong. This is familiar. Whenever they're given enough time alone together, they end up like this. The first time, it was against a car. The next, it was her counter. This time, it's his kitchen table. But, she doesn't want this to be like the other times. She doesn't want this to be another avoidance of his emotions, she wants this to be an avenue they can navigate to get to know each other. She refuses to be distracted by his passion.

Harry reaches for the edge of her borrowed t-shirt, but he's stopped before it can be lifted to reveal her to him. At the same moment that she stops him, he realizes that he has never seen her naked before. Both times before, they were too hasty to bother with undressing. The thought just makes his frustration from being stopped stronger.

"I want to try something," Harley says.

Anything you want, he thinks to himself. As long as she stays here with him. As long as she's his to keep.

"Y'got some kinky alter ego I don't know about or something?" he asks.

To this, she smiles knowingly and says, "I thought you already knew about my kinky alter ego." The smile fades as she remembers her suggestion for him and how he might react. How it might turn this back into a verbal argument. "How about a game? For every article of clothing taken off, we both reveal something about ourselves that the other doesn't know."

He isn't stupid. What she's doing is obvious to him. Once their conversation stopped being successful in deriving information from him, she found something that could work. An incentive for him to keep going without shutting her out as he tends to do once things drift outside of his comfort zone. She's clever, he'll give her that.

The tip of his thumb brushes over her bottom lip playfully.

"S'not very fair. I'm fully dressed and you're wearing nothing. Not that I'm complaining about that, but..." he finishes his statement with a pointed look at her sorry excuse for an outfit—a worn old shirt of his and a pair of boxer briefs that act more as tight-fitting shorts on her than they do underwear.

Throughout the exchange, she doesn't keep her hands to herself. They tease him, a response to how he withheld his kiss from her a few minutes ago. She drags her touch up the backs of his thighs and over his clothed ass, painstakingly slow and light in her movements. There's nothing more that she'd want than to give the well-rounded flesh a good squeeze, but she refrains for the sake of riling him up. From his ass, she slides her touch around to where his hands hang at his sides, taking them into hers and bringing them up to where her nipples poke at the thin white tee he gave her.

"I'm not wearing nothing," she says, looking at him with feigned innocence as she flattens his palms over her chest. God help him.

A second or so passes of him trying not to pounce on her, a feral animal being jerked back on a leash, before she presents an alternative for him to level the playing field. A fair fight.