Until you came (Zarry) /English Version

54. New broom sweeps clean?

"How'd you find it so far?" he says and is stopping my dreams all of a sudden.

"What?" I speak in a croaky voice. He completely threw me.

"How did you find it?.......the manuscript?" he repeats his question and now makes me blush.

Fairly composed, I try to concentrate on my work again.

"Oh, of course...the manuscript. Well, yeah... well, it's really good, Harry. Very, very exciting," I stammer and feel pretty stupid. He caught me.

"Did I say anything wrong, Ben?" he asks directly and stares me in the eyes again.

Who's flirting with who now? Why is he looking at me like that?

"No, not at all. I was just a little absent. Sorry", I am blathering and having trouble pulling myself together.

"You have daydreams, don't you?

"Daydreams? What? What makes you think so?" I answer astonished, because I don't know what he's talking about.

"I also have them sometimes. It's called mental hygiene, Ben. The head switches itself off and you just stare without looking at anything in particular," he explains and grins right in my face.

Pfff...daydreams...Mental hygiene. What a nonsense he is talking. I dreamed about you. I would rather call it wishful thinking.

"Shall we then?" I hear from his sensuous mouth, which drives me crazy.

The so-called daydreams seem to have gripped me again, because my mind is already elsewhere.

"What do you mean, Harry? What are we supposed to do?", I ask and cannot turn my eyes away from his rosy lips.

Styles notices my nervousness and gives more precise details of his question. Nevertheless, I notice his smirk.

"Shall we discuss the passages from the text, Ben?"

"Oh, sure. I' m so sorry, Harry, I'm not quite with it today. That's not my style. I take my work as an editor very seriously."

"No problem at all. Maybe it's the heat. It's so hot in your office," he says and yet actually starts to unbutton his shirt a bit, which rises my temperature and the warmth in the office even more.

What's he doing? Please don't. I' m not prepared for that. I have the impression that Styles turned the tables and tried to confuse me. With success. But where is my hunting instinct then? I want to fight for him and not vice versa!

So I fiddle with my shirt and go one step further. I unbutton it almost completely. The young author's eyes fall out of his head. Again and again his gaze wanders to my bare chest and barely looks at the manuscripts lying untouched on the desk.

He clears his throat and pretends to be interested in my remarks in his chapters. Standing behind him, I bend over his left shoulder so that my chest rubs against his. With my arm around his neck, I refer to some passage and probably talk complete nonsense. But it doesn't matter.

I don't think he's really listening to me either. He's probably also doing mental hygiene right now. There is something magical about touching our bodies that we both enjoy. Harry says nothing, he even presses his shoulder harder against me and doesn't back away.