Paper Houses (A Niall Horan Fan Fiction)

Chapter Twenty-Five

"Oh yeah? What else has Joel told you?" I teased. "Wait. I don't want to know the answer to that."

We both laughed, but his magical laugh was louder. His laugh was absolutely contagious, and he always laughs like whatever you said was the funniest thing in the world.

"He's told me some things." He wiggled his eyebrows. I laughed even more. "Nah, he's not said a word." Niall was close to me now. He was so close I could feel his breath on my cheek.

I knew that. Even though Joel was eccentric, he was a private person when it came to outsiders.

Niall stopped my laughter by kissing me on the lips. I let him kiss me like I did when we were in his closet. This time I wasn't afraid of what could or would happen; instead, I welcomed it. His lips were like heaven. His lips pressed against mine tenderly at first, exploring my lips. Then he kissed me with more urgency and his hands were in my hair, his tongue darting into my mouth. Niall started moving us to the edge of the pool.

My back found the wall of the pool, and Niall positioned his hands on either side of my shoulders. I opened my eyes momentarily to get a glimpse of this gorgeous man. His eyes were half open, his lips parted. He had such a power over me and I was putty in his hands. He kissed me once more, this time pressing his whole body against mine. It wasn't in an aggressive way, but more like I want you kind of way. His actions didn't upset me or make me uncomfortable. I welcomed it, like I welcomed him kissing me just a few minutes earlier.

He pulled away suddenly. I furrowed my brow, wondering what I had done wrong. I didn't realize how much I needed or craved his touch until it was gone. Then his arms connected with the back of my knees and he carried me bridal style into the house and to the bedroom.

Niall put me down in the bathroom and I became instantly self-conscious. He turned on the bright fluorescent lights and disappeared into a corner of the room. I was still in the white t-shirt he had given me. I felt exposed, and I crossed my arms in front of my chest. Niall returned with two towels in his hands.

I took a towel while still holding one arm across my chest. I bit my lip, waiting.

Niall took the hint. "I'll give you a bit of privacy," he said and motioned to leave the room.

"Niall, wait." He stopped midstep. "My undergarments are outside by the pool. I need a new shirt or something."

"I'll get you one." He returned a few moments later with a black t-shirt this time. I silently rejoiced that the soft fabric was opaque. Niall touched a soaked lock of my hair. "There's no reason to be embarrassed or shy, you know."

I made eye contact with him, and his eyes were like the calm of the ocean after a storm. His eyes were so expressive, and I was learning how to tell his mood through his eyes. How could he be so relaxed when my anxiety was starting to take over?

"Annie, look at me," his voice was gruff, barely above a whisper. I did as I was told. "We can take this slow. We can stop everything right now and I can take you home. You have that option." He ran a hand over his face. "If you think we are going too fast, all you have to do is say."

"What if I don't want to take this slow?"

I could tell he didn't expect my response as he let out a small, nervous laugh. He recovered quickly as he kissed me hard and fast. I dropped the towel, and he dropped the shirt. Niall picked me up and carried me to the bed, all the while his mouth on mine.

He lay me down on the bed gently and stood over me. I was freezing; my nipples were erect, and I knew he could see them pushing against the shirt. I moved to cover my chest.

"No," he said. "You have nothing to be ashamed of."

I looked up at him from under my lashes. "Please? I'm cold."

"Hold on." He left the bedside and came back with a comb in his hand. "Here. Sit up." He sat down on the bed behind me. Niall maneuvered the comb through my hair, careful not to tug on my scalp. How did he know how to do this? Why was he so nice? Brent would have tossed the comb my way without so much as a "sorry."

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I'm glad you told me." He traced his fingers on my shoulder and down my back. My skin tingled from his touch. I sighed in contentment. "Let me braid your hair."

"How do you know how to braid?" I asked.

"I knew at an early age, and I always made Harry mad when I braided his hair while he was sleeping when we were on tour." He chuckled at the memory.

He worked quickly to fix my hair in a tight, neat plait, tying it at the end with a hairbow. I didn't want to think about how he came to have girls' hair ties in his house. Pushing the thought out of my mind, I turned around and smiled at him.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered. "How could anyone ever be mean to you? Annie, I want you to know I will never willingly hurt you."

"What if I can't make that promise? I'm a broken person, Niall. Just a few short weeks ago, I was a shell of a person. I'm working on it, but I don't want to make promises I can't keep."

His blue eyes seemingly peered into my soul. "That's okay." He said it like it was nothing. "Annie," he said then trailed off as he pressed his forehead against mine.

This time I initiated the kiss. I wanted him, and I didn't care that I would inevitably hurt him. Our souls were intertwined, and I never wanted to let go.

"Annie," he said again. "I need you." His voice was hoarse.

I reclined on the bed and he was instantly on top of me. His left hand fingered the hem of my shirt. "It's okay. You can take it off." And so he did. And I was naked and vulnerable.

But that didn't bother me. I felt safe with him; I always did. It was like second nature by now.

"Annie," he repeated. "We don't have to do this, you know. If you don't feel comfortable, tell me and I'll stop." His blue eyes were staring directly into mine.

"It's okay. I want to." Normally, I wouldn't. Brent didn't care about my feelings, and before him I was in high school, and people always try to pressure you to do things. I firmly stood my ground until Brent scared me into submission.

Niall, though, was the complete opposite. He made me feel welcome, at home, and he didn't want to do anything I didn't want to do. After all those years with Brent, I was still adjusting to this newfound freedom and respect.

I wanted to say it made me love him, but I still wasn't sure. Did I just think I love him? Or was that feeling actually real? He did make me feel happy, but I shouldn't base my happiness from him. Did he feel the same way about me?

Niall leaned in to kiss me. He was so tender, like I was fragile and he didn't want to harm me in any way. I opened my mouth, deepening the kiss. A fire burned in the pit of my stomach, and I needed him like he said he needed me.

He broke away, and I moaned my discontent, but his lips grazed my jawline then my neck. He showered me in kisses until he reached my breasts. Taking one in each hand, he messaged them while continuing to leave his trail of kisses.

My body was on fire, but in a good way. Each place he kissed burned and pricked my skin. I never had this reaction to someone touching me before. Surely it meant something? As he made his way down my body, I began to twitch. His little bit of stubble tickled me.

"Annie, have you ever had someone touch you like this?" His voice was little more than a whisper.

"No, not the way you are." Brent never touched me like this.

"What?" he questioned, startled by my response.

"Brent was never this..." I struggled to find the right word. "Kind."

Niall looked up at me with his clear blue eyes. "As mad as that makes me, I'm glad he wasn't. Because if he was, I wouldn't get to show you this. I want to worship at your feet."