*Story containes MATURE & EXPLICIT CONTENT*
THIS IS A SEQUEL / PART 2.
Read "Stall" before this book, unless you just like spoiling things for yourself. If that's the case, you do you boo.
"Something can be both delicate and violent"
***
Harry lowe...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
***
You're a sexy Christmas ham. You're a sexy Christmas ham. You're a sexy Christmas ham.
I repeat the chant to myself inside my head as a silent pep talk, gathering the ovaries of steel to pull my robe open.
The anticipation in the air is palpable, it's enough to have my fingers trembling and Harry's suspenseful gaze locked on me, but that's not what is making my heart surge in my chest the most.
It's the emotion behind his eyes. Normally he can be expressive with them, but at the moment it's like every shred of anything he's ever felt is flowing out and threatening to knock me over.
I would always say it was like Harry locked himself away behind a door I was dying to see behind, and whilst he'd opened it months ago; at this very second it's like he's locked me inside that room and I'm seeing every part of it for the first time. Everything he's kept inside and written on the walls that he's kept for himself, now sharing it.
Totally unfiltered.
There's no reservations, insecurity or confusion on his face. He's just open. Overwhelmed, but open.
There's still that glossy tint to his eyes, with a hint of pink on the tip of his nose to match his flushed cheeks. Somehow, he still simultaneously manages to make looking close to bursting into tears mix effortlessly with looking like he wants to fuck me through a wall.
"You gonna show my what's under there darling? The suspense is killing me" Harry encourages in a slow voice, full of rasp from fighting back tears moments ago and I watch his chest jump with a breath when I grasp the edges of the robe to pull it open.
Harry notices me hesitate, and his brows twitch together as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, "Don't be nervous, ever. Please. Let me see."
His tone is reassuring but I can also see on his face the briefest flash of, well I guess it almost looks like hurt? That I'd be nervous?
There's times where he enjoys making me squirm, but it seems to only be when there's a clear purpose to it but for the most part he seems to want me to be confident around him. I think he wants my nerves to be a choice around him, not to be genuinely stand-offish.
I compose myself, channeling the feeling I had the day I tried this on and had Jimmy's encouragement to feel comfortable and ignore the fact that I'm actually terrified of what Harry will think.
I hold my breath and let the robe start to slip from shoulders, inching down as I open it and let the silky fabric slip down my arms and down onto the floor; my heart hammers with every inch of skin it reveals and it feels like it hits the floor with the fabric.
