sunny. {HS au}

Chapter Seventeen - Baciami

 Hello! I am back! For anyone who was reading this last year, I have redrafted all previous chapters so a reread may be necessary! But the plot is still very much the same. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I will aim to have eighteen up later in the weeek! 

                 Standing in the doorway separating Harry's en-suite from his bedroom, inhaling his lightly spiced, rich scent that the fabric hanging around her shoulders exuded, put Florence into a state of pure temptation.

Harry's eyes fixated on her as she approached the bed, the material of his t-shirt drowning her down to my mid-thigh. She could see his gaze dropping to her legs and lingering there momentarily.

"My face is up here." She repeated the words he'd previously said to her, and he quickly glanced back down to his book, a flush crept over his cheeks, but a smirk still played on his lips.

In spite of her anxious mind and crippling insecurities, a suffocating wave of desire swept over her, erasing any semblance of restraint. She tried, with all her power, to disregard her intrusive thoughts of doubt. Seeing Harry's taught, tanned skin littered with ink against the bright white of his sheets was enough to turn her on on the spot and enabled her to compartmentalise slightly as she neared him.

Florence tried to remind herself of how this man had made her feel earlier in the evening. She tried to rationalise by recounting the way he spoke to her, on two separate occasions. But for some fucked up reason, it only spurred her on more.

He wanted assurance that she wasn't just using him for his status, and she wanted to give him that.

She crawled onto the bed beside him and observed his movements as he placed the book on the table next to him and stretched like a cat, reaching his fingertips above his head.

"You tired?" He mumbled, pulling the duvet back for her to climb in beside him. But she didn't answer him. She momentarily gawked at his soft features, working out what to do next, contemplating how he would react to her perverse desires.

As she crawled closer to him, she pushed his shoulders back against the bed till he lay down below her. A look of confusion fleetingly swept across his features as she clambered into his lap, beneath the duvet, straddling him till the t-shirt he'd loaned her hitched around the tops of her legs. She placed her hands either side of his head and looked down at his curls splaying over the pillow around his gentle face.

Harry's eyes instantly met hers and the hunger they exuded was impalpable. Their green had turned phtalo and she could feel the heat of his skin like the sun in the middle of June, sticky and sultry beneath her touch as their clothed centres aligned.

Being in his house had felt intimate but being in his bedroom was a new level of closeness and the prospect filled her with fear. She needed to distract herself before she talked herself into leaving and avoiding the vulnerability she had yet to feel with another person. The vulnerability she used everything in her to curb, letting intimacy merely be an act of lust and desire and nothing more.

Every sexual act she'd partaken in, had always been meaningless. It had been messy and clumsy, often with a stranger, and almost always when she was drunk. She let her body be the object of a sexual partners pleasure; a prop for them to utilise and play with to meet their needs.

"You're killin' me Floss." Harry's voice brought her back into the present and she let her eyes drop to meet his again, remembering the first time he'd accused her of that.

"M'not tired." She answered his previous question as he reached for her wrists, lifting her hands, and intertwining their fingers together.

"That so?" He hummed, his chest rising and falling slightly faster as he tugged her forward till their faces were inches apart, releasing his hold on her hands and reaching for her waist to hold her in place above him. She propped herself up on her elbows, letting her fingers toy with the ends of his hair still twisted over the pillow. He lent up ever so slightly, letting his lips brush over her jaw momentarily, peppering gentle kisses upwards towards her ear where he bit down gently on the lobe. Florence let out a sigh at the sensation, trying to steel herself but failing dismally under his touch. "Nor am I", he whispered before pulling her impossibly closer, till her torso was flush with his.