Keep Driving [h.s]

nineteen

Harry

Until my lips are on hers.

Her presence lures me every time we're in a room together and it was inevitable for this to happen again. It's been months since it last happened and back then I didn't know what to think of it. I still don't but fuck. Kissing her feels incredible.

I swallow the small gasp that leaves her lips once she realises what's happening and I wait for her to shove me away from her.

But she doesn't.

She stays still, holding her breath and waiting for my next move. She's cautious, not to do the wrong thing and God, it drives me insane.

I move one of my hands to the side of her head, pulling her closer to me so our chests are flush. She lets me do it. I move my lips slowly and she does the same.

From then it's just testing the waters, really. I deepen the kiss, breathing her in. She stays still the whole time, letting me make the next move.

I brush my tongue against her bottom lip, teasing her with it and to my surprise she parts her lips, allowing me to kiss her how the French do.

As soon as her tongue meets mine and I taste her, I know I'm done for. She's like a drug. You try it once and you want to do it again and again. I fear I'm fucking addicted.

I tighten my grip on the back of her head, pulling at her roots a little, earning a soft moan from her and my cock springs to life. Fuck.

Just as I'm about to make a move again and pin her against the wall, I hear a tiny squeal. One I recognise well.

I screw my eyes shut tighter, stopping my movements and hesitantly part my lips from hers with a smack.

When I open my eyes, I see that hers are still closed. She stays still, breathing slowly for a few seconds before she opens her eyes and the green in them meet with mine.

Neither of us knows what to do now, we just stay in silence, staring at each other breathlessly.

Does she regret it? Did I force myself on her? God, I fucking hope not.

When my daughter squeals again, I clear my throat, interrupting the silence between us. "I'll uh, put her down," I take a step back, wanting her — needing her to take a step forward. But she doesn't.

"Okay," she breathes out quietly.

I get my shit together and turn back to my grinning daughter. She knows what just happened and she's fucking judging me.

I take a deep breath and grab her onesie, dressing her in it. Ella leaves the room soon after, giving me space to do my job as a father and care for my daughter.

So I do that. I rock her to sleep in my arms, singing Pocketful of sunshine to her like I do every night. It seems to be the only song that gets her to calm down and it's all thanks to Ella.

She falls asleep rather quickly, tired after playing with me all day. I'd say it was a good day. I spent basically 24 hours with her and managed with only a few smaller freakouts. For example when she threw up her formula on my shoulder while I was burping her. I was scared her stomach bug was back but it was only a spit which is normal.

It's all so fucking new to me. Not just being a dad but  having Ella here while trying to manage my old life. It's hard but I just have to set my priorities straight. She comes first, then work.

Once she fell asleep with her tiny hand still wrapped around my pinky, I placed her down in her crib, tucked her in and took the baby monitor with me when leaving her room.