vegas | H.S.

s u f f o c a t e u s

a/n: hello! welcome to another chapter of VEGAS. i'm pleased to say that the book as exceeded 25K! thank you guys, and i love you all so much. i don't like when authors ask for readers to provide votes and comments for the next chapter because it's always like they crave someone else's opinion. here, i am only concerned with proving a story that i hope you guys will love. :) as said before, i will no longer be providing pictures of outfits, but locations, or gifs instead. how about that? above are the selfies Vegas and Harry will send. this chapter will be in third person as well. anyway, happy reading my loves - dani xo

c h a p t e r t w e n t y f i v e

A radiant, perpetual glow ascended upon her brow, glistening to the silky consistency of her exterior layers. The ridges of her curves outlined by the delicate silhouette that was fastened around his serene lengthy digits. A smile stimulated the moment of pure euphoria between the destined pairing, bodies clinging together at the seams.

Harry had dreaded the residing amount of hours he had left with her, but silent and powerful moments like this made their getaway something that would never fade from his clouded memory. He adored her; the word still not transferring the endearment that was housed in his heart. He desired to marry Vegas, every part of her being a piece of himself.

He had her latched to the cabinetry; his hands on either side of her hip bones to prevent her from fleeing after the number of kisses he relayed to her skin would continue. His head dipped down like a wave crashing unto the ocean's shore, lips glazing over her complexioned shade of the perfect, and flawless brown. He figured she tasted like a sweet, milky chocolate bar on a chilling, London night. And he was correct. He indulged in it like a bad habit.

"Harry. . ." She would breath, fingers torturing his clothed torso of a grey tee to a ball of wrinkles fabric. "That tickles. . ."

"But, I don't hear you laughing, my lady," Harry commented, lips still lingering, "and you know how much I love your laugh."

"I snort, and there is nothing attractive about that," She criticized herself. Harry scoffed at how uneasy this made him feel.

"Vegas Adele Blacke, your laugh is impeccable. Brilliant. Cute. Smoldering," Harry listed all the adjectives he could process without sounding as if he was repeating old news. He wanted to remind her of her unique framework or else she will not believe herself. "You are fantastic."

Holding a tight and threatening friction to the counter, Harry's reflective orbs lightened her world. Her heartbeat, around him, was anything but settled. Nerve wrecking pressures pinged at the organ, regulating the manner in which she breathed to the limited space between. His blueberry muffin-flavored breath fanned to the brim of her nose as he maneuvered his frame to peer down at her shortened height. Substantially, their foreheads rested upon one another, sharing a likeness to simper.

"I despise the ending of our tranquil days in Hambledon," Harry murmured, edging to brush their hesitant but loving kiss that was surely bound to transpire. "Seeing you every morning beside me is a feeling that lights up the essence of my very being."

She could only formulate a soft chuckle, fingertips breezing to his earlobe and to the ripples of his brown locks. The lucid shine that was brought by the impending sun that funneled through the window caught her attention. Her digits locked to the curls, a train of laughter bleeding from their parted lips that were stained with each other's.