Wonderland (Taylor Swift + Harry Styles +Jake Gyllenhaal + Connor Kennedy)

Untouchable

Willingly Harry let her take his hand. Her soft small fingers wrapping gently around his rough ones. She lead him through a swarm of people and out through a back door opening to the back side of the hotel were the party had been at. She dropped my hand as we stepped into the cold Manhattan air. Leaning back against the wall of the building Taylor let out a deep sigh.
"No paps." She said smiling towards Harry.
He was quite impressed by her navigation skills.
"It would've been pretty bad if they'd seen us together." Harry said, trying to act nonchalant.
"Taylor's new man! Guess she really can't keep her hands to herself."
She joked impersonating a news reporter.
"Don't worry nothing happening here is news worthy." She said coldly. Pursing her lips and eyeing him down once again. It was crazy how she would just split personalities like that. He felt offended but couldn't help but want more. She began to walk away and he debated wether or not to follow but his feet had already made the decision for him.

They walked back to her apartment in silence. But it wasn't awkward. It was nice just having her there. Watching the moon light up her skin and following in her tall shadow. Occasionally she would turn back to look at him which was reassuring as it signalled she wanted him to come with her.
"Here we are." She sighed unlocking her door and stepping in to a warmly coloured and heavily patterned room.
He was just about comment on how he was feeling more sober when a ball of fur flung itself at him, causing him to stumble back into the wall. It clawed and scratched at his clothes and face, letting out loud meows and hisses. Out of the corner of his eye he could make out Taylor laughing hysterically on her bed.
"Fuck you." Harry joked at her, pushing the cat off him.
She was still on her back.
"I know I know- I'm sorry." She breathed out between cackles. "I was going to help I really was. I just-"
"Mhmm." Harry retorted. Hissing as he touched the cut on his face.
She sat up and composed herself. "Oh shit. Are you okay?" She got up and walked over to inspect Harry's cut. She touched it gently and he flinched. Her eyes met his briefly, expressing a look of pity, before she exited into the kitchen.
"Bad girl Merideth!" He heard her shout from the other room.
"Bad girl." Harry muttered to himself.
Seconds later she reappeared with ice and a tissue.
"Here. Sit." She gestured over to the bed and began dabbing his cut. The touch of her skin against his made him shiver. Her movements were so delicate. Her eyes were focused on the cut and he was grateful for it as he wouldn't of been able to hold her stare for that long. Having her this close to him. She smelt sweet. Like a mixture of vanilla and cinnamon or raspberry. It made him feel cosy. The whole apartment made him feel cosy. He watched her hair cascade down over her shoulders. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was. But he couldn't show any sign of weakness.
Once the ice had melted her hand was left on his cheek and her gaze switched onto his eyes.
"What you thinking about Styles?" She said softly. He couldn't tell her what he was really thinking about. About pulling her face down for her lips to meet his. About running his finger through that luscious golden hair. Pressing her against the wall and- no stop thinking about that.
"Dreaming about throwing that cat right out that window."
She laughed and backed away.
"Come. I can cheer you up." And he followed her into the kitchen.
She reached into a tall cupboard, causing her dress to ride up her thigh. Harry moved behind her and reached.
"Let me help you with that."
" You know, usually I'm the tall one." She said, spinning around to face him. They were now centimetres away.
"Not anymore. I'm the helpful one now."
She grinned, pleased with herself.
" Except what I'm looking for isn't in that drawer." She said,gliding off to a different cupboard. Of course it wasn't. Harry should've known she was only reaching for the high one so that he would see her legs in all their glory.
"What are we doing anyway?" Harry asked, sitting down at a stool next to the counter. She plopped down a clump of ingredients and bowl in front of him with her eyes glinting playfully.
"We. Are baking."
He laughed as he watched her fling different ingredients into the bowl while he stirred.
"No recipe?"
"Recipe? Who do you think I am." She remarked waving her wooden spoon up in the air. " I am an artiste." She glanced back at him over her shoulder smiling. It was the first time he'd seen her really smile. Out of happiness. Genuinely. Not trying to charm someone  just because she wanted to.
" Well I am an 'artiste' too ,you know." Harry replied, mimicking the French accent she'd put on and reaching for the bottle of brandy sitting by the sink.
Her eyes lit up mischievously as he poured it into the mixture.
She rested her elbows on the counter so that her butt stuck out behind her,leaning in to try their creation. She scooped a finger in and lifted in into her mouth. Her plump red lips sucking on it while still maintaining eye contact with Harry. It was killing him being with her. Every muscle in his body was begging to lift her over the counter and pull her in towards him. But he  had to fight back the urges, the desperate pull and remain nonchalant.
"Taste good?" He asked, dipping his finger in aswell and trying.  She rolled her eyes back and hummed in appreciation while reaching in for more. He grabbed her wrist stopping her. Her eyebrow arched as she looked up at him.
"We have to bake it remember?"
She broke free from his grip and grinned at him cheekily.
" But do we really?"
Without notice she grabbed the bowl and ran away from him, laughing and desperately trying to eat as much as she could. He lunged after her and caught her by the waste.
"Gimme that!"
In an attempt to escape she began to fling bits of dough at him, giggling excessively.
"Argh!" Harry exclaimed, momentarily letting go of her. He managed to grab the bowl from across the counter and scramble over to her side where they were both excessively throwing dough at eachother and giggling.
"Stop!" He cried, grabbing both her wrists and holding them between their faces. After a moment of anticipation, Taylor dipped down and licked some dough off Harry's hand. Jesus this girl was good. He furiously began to tickle her and lick bits of dough of her neck and shoulders causing her to howl with laughter. Together the made their way to wards the wall where the laughter began to die down until she cornered between the wall, and Harry breathing down the back of her neck. God, how he loved those cute little breaths she let out, out of breath. Although it was probably just one of her tactics. He wondered how many guys she'd baked with, planned out this exact scenario with. Nevertheless, he didn't care. Taylor was right there in front of him. Pressed up against him.
He began to plant kisses down her neck and shoulders and slid his hands around her waist.
"Harry-" she muttered breathily. He couldn't see her face but he could hear her cogs turning.
With a slight wimper, she turned round to face him and pressed her index finger against his lips.
"Wha-" Harry murmured in confusion. Why was she stopping him? He wasn't sure he could hold back any longer.
"We really shouldn't." She said sensibly but quiet enough for him to ignore her.
He began to kiss her neck once again.
"But I can't resist." His teeth tracing along her skin as he spoke.
After briefly letting out a moan of pleasure she grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back.
"Harry." She said more firmly this time.
"I think it's time for you to go."
She let go of him and made her way back towards the door of her apartment. Opening it and waiting for him to leave.
Once again he was left gazing at her in awe. Only this time he was the guy she was forcing out the door. She'd been leading him on so much but now wanted him to go? Anger started to swell up inside him but he pushed it aside and began to walk out the door. Just something about the way she said things was so compelling. So overruling and powerful. Usually he was the one picking and choosing woman who would throw themselves at him but with her he felt weak and nervous. She was in control. She was untouchable and he hated her for it. But as he felt the door close behind him all he could do was hope it wouldn't be the last time he saw her.