Blurred Lines

BLURRED LINES: EIGHT

The whole trip back to his place was silent, but it wasn't an awkward silence anymore. Music was playing softly through the speakers, loud enough for both of you to hear it but not too loud to hold you back from starting a conversation. You didn't speak, though. The anticipation was too thick and you were too aware of what was going to happen when you arrived to your destiny.

During the whole time he drove through the empty streets of London towards his place, he rested his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly from time to time, reassuring you, or rubbing his thumb back and forth, sending tingles to all the right places.

When he parked the car, he turned his body towards you instead of getting outside straight away.

"You know, if you want out, you're still on time to say something. I can drive you home."

"Oh, shut up!" you rolled your eyes before the smile that you were trying to hold back pulled up the corners of your lips and you leaned forward, taking his face between your hands and resting your forehead against his.

The tension between the two of you had built up during the short trip from Becca's house to his, and you couldn't deny the need to feel him closer than ever, in such an intimate way.

You stared into his emerald eyes, looking for any sign that might tell you to back out, but all you could find was pure and intense green looking at you the same way you were looking at him, and you could read one expression on them: desire.

You pressed your lips against his and almost moaned at how good it felt. You'd forgotten how soft his lips were, how sweet they tasted. You licked his lower lip with the tip of your tongue, tasting the mint of the chewing gum he'd been chewing on your way home and some traces of the previous tequilas you'd had back at Becca's. He moaned, parting his lips to let you in.

Your tongues met and electricity flowed through your entire body, awakening every limb and reaching every spot. You felt alive again, excited... happy. He was here with you, your Harry was back, and you couldn't be happier about it. You'd missed your best friend more than you actually wanted to acknowledge. Especially since he stopped being your best friend a long time ago.

You knew your feelings were reciprocal, and that made your heart burst with something you were still afraid to define. But it didn't matter. Not tonight.

"Maybe we should take this upstairs," he whispered against your lips, making you realise how close you got to each other. You were almost sitting on his lap. You probably would have been if it weren't for the gear stick and the tiny room that the steering wheel left for you to sit on top of him. You nodded and sat back on the co-driver's seat, opening the door to get out of the car.

The second his main door closed behind you, you couldn't keep your hands off from each other. He placed his hands on your hips and pulled you in for a longer kiss, squeezing them lightly when you carefully bit his lower lip. You could see the struggle in his eyes; he was desperate to feel you around him, but he was holding himself back because he didn't want to rush things between you two again. He wanted to take his time, he wanted to make you feel special.

He placed one of his ringed hands on your cheek and you leaned against it as he rubbed his thumb back and forth on your skin. You stared into his eyes, the widest of the smiles on your face.

"What?" he whispered.

"I just didn't realise how good you look with those messy curls framing your face," you shook your head, admiring how his hair had grown since the last time you saw him. It kind of reminded you of teenage Harry, right after you became best friends.

He smiled at you as he lifted his other hand to your face, pulling you in for a kiss. You placed your hands on his shoulders, feeling the smooth silk of his shirt against your hands. You traced the back of his neck with your fingertips, until you buried your fingers in his curls, tugging softly at them.