A Compelling Motive (h.s.)

twelve

My body jolts when I hear a pound on the door, my eyes blinking away the harsh sunlight. I tie my hair into a bun, looking to see it's almost noon. The thoughts of the previous night register in my head; Harry's past surfacing. I take a deep breath in preparation for opening the door, my hand rubbing my eye. When I pull the chain away from the door, I unlock the bolt and look up at the visitor.

"Ignoring me?" the deep voice of Harry says, my eyes looking into his. His green eyes seem brighter in the light peeking through my living room; the sight causing my heart to race.

"No, I'm just having a rough week," I try to improvise, his body striding into the room. I close the door behind him, throwing caution into the wind as I try to conceal everything I've learned.

"Take a seat and I'll cook for you," I say, but he grabs my hand. I'm pulled into him, his hard body felt against my own. He looks into my eyes and moves his hand to my face.

"What's troubling you?" he whispers, his eyebrows coming together. I should have known he could read me like an open book. The man before me is incredibly intelligent.

And apparently incredibly violent.

"A lot," I breathe out, unsure as to how to handle the situation. My mind rakes for an excuse of honesty; searching for a good enough reason as to why I'm stressed without bringing up things concerning himself.

"Enlighten me," he nearly begs, and I feel him lean me against my counter. He stands over me, determined to receive an answer. I pull the first thing that comes to mind.

"I quit my job," I say, sighing. "I don't know what to do."

It's enough for him. He visibly grows sympathetic, eyes softening their strong connection on me.

"You're talented and incredibly smart. You'll find a place that you'll thrive in," he says, alleviating some of my tension. It's probably only a quarter of it; the other seventy-five percent residing in front of me.

"Now, let me take you out to breakfast," he says, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my cheek. I nod and he allows me to walk down the hall to my room. I disregard trying to do anything to my hair, settling to just wear a tee with jeans, along with my combat boots and jacket.

I grab my cigarettes and lighter, shoving them in my bag before meeting Harry back in my kitchen. He's once more looking at the book residing on the counter. I've not read much further since the night he had me read to him, but I think I may have tweaked his interest in it.

"Ready, darling?" he says, pulling me out of my thoughts. I nod and we walk out, my hand twisting the key to lock the door. He surprises me by taking my hand, his warm fingers lacing through mine. His arm is before mine, symbolling a sense of possession. When I look over his face, I see that he holds no emotion other than complete and utter dominance. He does not look back and simply does not look at anyone passing. It's straight-forward, jaw defined, and intent on his destination.

He tilts his head to look at me, my eyes already trained on him. I'm unable to tell if Harry is suspicious of my reserved actions today, but I'm sticking to my story.

"Harry," I say, his eyes meeting mine with a turn of his head.

"Can we share a cigarette?" I question, his lips curving into a soft smile. He just nods, my fingers reaching for one out of my bag. Once lit, I suck in the nicotine and pinch the stick between my fingers. He takes hold of my free hand, the two of us continuing our walk.

Passing the cigarette between the two of us, we reach the restaurant Harry is taking us two. I toss the cigarette on the ash tray of a nearby trashcan, Harry tugging me into him quickly. Then I feel his lips on my ear.