**THIS IS A TRIPLE UPDATE - 66, 67 AND 68! ***
Chapter 66
This newfound affinity of Harry's to be anywhere and everywhere that I was all the time was my ultimate, progressive undoing toward the decision of agreeing to go back to Italy with him. The country that had tied us closer together during our first outing there; the country home to the language that he frequently loved to get under my skin with.
Maybe it'd been rash to tell him that I would so quickly. The word 'yes' tumbling from my lips only moments after he'd asked the question, any rational thoughts being tabled in the back of my mind for a later time. I knew it was probably for a job, probably for reasons I didn't ever even want to find out, but I didn't really care. I'd come to realize that I enjoyed spending time with him far too much to overthink the alternative – the reason why we were together most of those instances.
So now, a week later, in place of my usual alarm that would normally wake me up for a grueling day of dealing with clients at the studio nitpicking over every little bit of paint I'd thrown onto a canvas, I was being woken up by the warmth of another body. A familiar warmth that sent my heart near-catapulting straight through my ribs as arms wrapped around my waist from behind.
I hadn't told Harry about my run-in with the man from the bank. In fact, I'd forgotten it almost the moment that we'd stepped into the restaurant, considering my mind was much too pre-occupied worrying about whether or not the numbers I was presenting to Derek were going to be enough to keep the studio afloat. I'd lied earlier when I'd told Harry that our figures were up. If anything, they'd actually decreased within the past few months. Still, Derek had merely glanced them over a few times before sliding the portfolio to the corner of our table with a small smile, to which he proceeded to redirect the conversation moments later toward his daughter, whom he grilled for over an hour about ways she could start helping out to pick up the slack around the studio.
Needless to say, as much as it pained me to see Olivia so annoyedly reluctant to abide by her father's wishes, her sudden availability to work at the studio a few days a week had come at a perfect time. Her first actual scheduled shift happened to be today, the Friday that Harry and I were taking off.
He'd informed me after the fact, at some point between last week and now, that it was in fact for business. He'd also mentioned something about how originally Zayn was supposed to tag along but that there was enough security wherever we were headed to allow him to go on his own to complete whatever needed to be done. Truthfully, I'd only been half-listening and I was pretty sure he was only half in the mood to tell me, considering this explanation had arisen while the two of us were tucked away on his couch watching New Girl, his words coming second in importance to his mouth and hands which roamed everywhere over my skin.
Very much like they were now, actually.
Warm, calloused palms had slipped beneath my shirt and were smoothing over my waist as I shifted around to face Harry, finally able to meet his eye. A lazy grin had settled on his lips, one I was all too happy to see this morning.
"Hi," I mumbled with a smile. "How are you feeling?"
We'd been flying for a little over a few hours now, the whole arrival and boarding onto the jet being something of a blur to me. We'd woken up so fucking early, as per Harry's request, and I could barely keep my eyes open on the drive to the tarmac, and I'd found myself wishing for only a split-second that we forgo the whole trip to spend the whole weekend in bed.
That thought though was quickly squashed once Harry had loaded all of our things in and ushered me up the steps, toward the bedroom in the back, where the two of us passed out alongside one another almost instantly – a tangled mess of limbs and snores that hadn't even made it beneath the covers. Falling asleep beside him, feeling the gentle movement of the plane beneath us and knowing just him and I were heading off on this trip together had me very grateful I'd agreed, even if it had been on a whim.
I'd woken up a few times since, nervous every time that I'd open my eyes to a frightened looking Harry, only to feel my heart soar with relief when I'd shimmied around to find him asleep. So soundly, actually, that I was able to twine my fingers through the ends of his hair and gently run my fingers over his arms, his tattoos, which held me tightly even in his sleep. I found myself tracing the ink on his skin, trying to memorize it and enact in my head stories behind each one, until I dozed back off again.
"'M feeling good," Harry said, his voice hoarse. "Better than I usually feel in this stupid death trap."
My gaze had been snagged by his own, flitting down to the skin beneath his eyes. The first couple of months or so that I'd known him, they'd always been caved in with dark, sunken circles. It never looked like he was sleeping, and I'd been convinced for a stretch of time that he actually wasn't, which was why I couldn't get over how good he looked now. How pink, rested and plump his skin was.
"Wanna know what my favourite thing about travelling on a jet is?" I whispered, a little accidentally, caught up in my own head. The pad of my thumb trailed absentmindedly beneath his eye.
Harry's hand caught my wrist, holding my fingers against his face. He wet his lower lip with his tongue, brows twitching together in amusement as he whispered back, "What's that?"
I grinned, flattening my palm against his cheek where I gave him a soft pat before suddenly spinning around and reaching toward the side of the bed where I'd left my purse. "You get to bring your own snacks," I gushed happily, yanking out the assortment of chips and candy that I'd packed, tossing them onto the bed. "You definitely don't get to do that on regular airlines."
"Ah–" Harry caught my hand as I spun myself back around, leaving me inches away from snagging one of the chocolate bars now sat in a frenzy on our laps, "–you know it's like 8 am, right?"
"Yeah," I rolled my eyes, twisting my wrist out of his grip. "Trust me, I know. Mr.–" lowering my voice, I mocked, "–'We've gotta leave before 4 am or all hell breaks loose.'"
Harry barked out a laugh, reluctantly letting me grab my snack and settled his arm around my shoulders, running his knuckles up and down my upper arm. "Is that what you think I sound like?"
"It's what I know you sound like."
"Mm," Harry hummed, rolling his eyes. He pulled me against his chest, breathing deeply as he leaned forward to place a kiss on my head, moving lower moments later with another slow one on my cheek, and finally caught me with a kiss on the corner of my mouth, murmuring right as I unwrapped the chocolate, "Gimme a bite."
He didn't even wait for me to say yes before he ducked his head down and bit off half the bar in one go. "Oh, c'mon–" I cried, mouth parting with an irritated huff. Harry's hands ghosted down to my hip where they remained only momentarily before he was pulling away, grinning as he chewed, his dimple in clear view.
Harry hovered over me as he stood up from the bed completely, stretching with a groan, before bracing his on either of my thighs where he gave a squeeze and murmured, "I'm gonna go check how much flight time we've got left. Don't move."
Before I could respond, he disappeared out the door. I didn't plan on moving but his words had me rolling my eyes as I finished the remaining few bites of the food that he'd so kindly stolen, if only because I knew they didn't have any underlying meaning that I would have normally preferred.
Harry had been fully healed – his bruises, cuts, ribs – for at least a few days now. And he'd let me know quite blatantly by throwing me over his shoulder multiple times this week in order to bring me up to his room or offering to carry me into the jet this morning. But despite this, he seemed less than inclined to have sex. His little touches and kisses had still been quite frequent, but he hadn't gone forward to initiate anything, something I figured he would be jumping at the opportunity to do now that things were alright with him physically.
"We've got about ten minutes," Harry pulled me from my train of thoughts as he re-entered the room, letting the door fall softly shut behind him. He stepped toward the bed, frowning at the sorry excuse for breakfast in my lap. "First priority when we get there is finding you food." Before I could interject, his fingers closed around my chin and he tipped me up toward him, leaning in to kiss me deeply. "Actual food, Bella."
"God, we've been flying for that long already?" I fell back against the pillows, feeling a little lost when Harry didn't immediately crawl back into bed beside me. Which was why I found myself scrambling to crawl after him as he gravitated toward the corner housing our luggage.
He seemed a bit surprised when he turned around to find me right behind him, sitting on the corner of the bed, but worked to suppress an amused smile as he tossed some clothes – his clothes – in my direction, saying, "Someone seems eager," he mused innocently and before I could cut in clarified, "to get there, I mean."
"Right," I nodded my head, biting back words about what else I was eager for. It was him who was healing. I'd go at his pace. "Eager to get there..." my eyes gravitated to the items in my hands. His shirt, a black Iron Maiden tee, and a pair of my shorts, which I wasn't even sure where he'd grabbed from considering they hadn't been in my own suitcase. "You know I packed my own clothes, right?"
Harry just shrugged. "Yeah, but I just prefer seeing you in mine."
His tone was light, honest. But I kept his gaze and angled my head to the side, hoping to take it a little further. "Do you?" Our eyes remained locked as I reached for the hem of my shirt and slowly dragged it over my head. "You know what I prefer wearing?" I sat back on my heels, heating under his gaze, which was still more amused than anything else. He'd leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms, jerking his chin at me to continue. "Nothi–"
"You're so beautiful," Harry interrupted, pushing off the wall to walk over to me. He smoothed his hands up my bare skin, leaning down to place a gentle trail of kisses from one collarbone to the other. "Così bella che non so mai come comportarmi. ma non è la tua bellezza che mi toglie il respiro, sei solo tu." He murmured the words while grabbing the shirt in my hands, tugging it over my head. With a lazy grin, he fixed my hair and tucked a strand behind my ear, kissing me once quickly before huffing a laugh. "You look annoyed. Spent too long in here with me?"
"No," I breathed instantly. "If anything, I feel–"
Harry knelt a single knee down on the edge of the bed and grabbed my hips, guiding me until I was sitting directly on his thigh. He cocked his head to the side, digging his fingers deep into my waist before murmuring, "Sorry. Was trying to get you more comfortable. Go on."
"I was saying–" I went on, trying to catch my long-departed train of that. Harry chose this moment to shift his leg forward a bit, eyes still innocently on mine, causing my hips to move along in sync and me to inadvertently grind against his thigh. A small noise fell from my lips.
"What were you saying, baby?" A ghost of a smile played on Harry's mouth now. He cocked his head to the side, furrowing his brows. His fingers trailed up to my waist, which he used to steady me further. "Go on. I'm listening."
I could almost guarantee he was doing this on purpose. But maybe not. Because realistically, all I was doing was just sitting here having a conversation with him. Though I could also almost guarantee that if the barrier of my pyjama pants didn't stand between us, he'd definitely catch on to the words I couldn't seem to get out of my mouth right now. How was I supposed to help how quickly he managed to turn me on 24/7, especially when half the time he barely kept his hands off of me?
Just as I opened my mouth again to speak, a knock sounded at the door, followed by the sound of a sharp voice stating, "We're landing. You both should take a seat."
"Well," Harry gave my hips a squeeze, turning back to look at me with a smug grin. "Guess that thought'll have to be put on hold. Let's go buckle ourselves in."
I reluctantly vacated my seat on his thigh and shimmied out of my pyjama pants, replacing them with my shorts, to follow him quickly out of the bedroom where we sat down alongside one another. And I might have been annoyed, might have called him out for the game I knew he was playing, if I wasn't stuck on the fact that he just seemed so content.
No fear, no nerves, no bits of anxiety lingered on his face as he buckled himself in – and then me, which earned a small laugh at his incessant controlling nature – only a semblance of ease. He lulled his head to the side to look at me and he reached to rest his hand on my knee, which he began to massage gentle circles into.
"Nervous?" he asked, voice low.
"Excited," I answered honestly.
His grin deepened. "Me too."
"So, tell me," I stretched my legs out. "What's the game plan this weekend? Have we got an itinerary? And are we going to the same place as last time?" Harry didn't answer me for a few seconds and when I glanced over, he was just staring at me, smiling. I narrowed my eyes. "What?"
"We aren't going to the same place as last time," Harry finally responded, ignoring my urge for clarification. "Probably can't unless you want to be chased on Vespa's again."
I shrugged, letting out a laugh. "Was kinda fun," for a moment, I reminisced, felt the surge of adrenaline from that night was through me, "I wouldn't mind shooting at those bastards again."
"Okay, well I'd rather you didn't shoot at them again," Harry chuckled. "And that they didn't shoot at you. We'd probably have been fine if we didn't take the jet, but it would be too risky to land back there in case any of Temarran's men have money on our heads."
"Our?" I clarified, shifting to look at him. The jet jostled a bit and Harry stiffened, glancing once at the shuttered windows – which I'd made sure to rush in and close before we got on earlier – but relaxed when I reached over to grab his wrist, giving it a squeeze. "You're saying we're wanted somewhere?"
Harry's eyes flashed with concern, and he quickly started to say, "Obviously I'd never fuckin' let them get to you or hurt you. Ever."
"No, no," I waved him off. "I mean, that's awesome. Imagine being able to say that you can't go to a certain city because you risk getting–"
Harry cut me off, his hand gravitating to my cheek. He was laughing in disbelief. "You, my darling, scare the fucking shit out of me sometimes. Got me worried the adrenaline has rubbed off on you." He leaned in, humming as our mouths connected, "And I'm sorry to say but besides the job I have to do, this is going to be a very tame weekend in comparison to what happened the last time we were in this country." He paused, running the pad of his thumb over my lower lip. "Vorrei poterti portare qui quando non lavoro. Vorrei che potessimo entrambi dimenticare il nostro lavoro e andare via da qualche parte."
I found myself frowning against his mouth, mumbling out a teasing, "And here I was hoping I'd get to shoot a guy again."
"Doesn't mean it won't be fun," Harry pulled away, keeping his eyes locked on mine. "Il mio obiettivo per questo fine settimana è di farti piacere, di renderti felice, di vederti sorridere." He blinked a few times, swallowing hard as the plane jolted roughly and landed against the tarmac beneath us, but refused to relent on this brave façade he'd put on.
"Look at that," I whispered with a grin. "We're here. We made it. Safe." Harry blew out a long breath, his shoulders sagging a bit as we began to slow. I couldn't help myself, taking the initiative this time to kiss him, and said breathily against his lips, "Proud of you, baby."
Harry pulled away at once, brows having shot up all the way to his hairline. His hand gravitated to grip loosely at my neck as he hoarsely muttered, "Well that's fuckin' new." Before I could respond, he gave me a squeeze and pulled me in by my throat to kiss me again, a bit more roughly this time. "Say it again."
"Baby," I murmured, letting my head hang to the side as he dragged his mouth sloppily down the curve of my jaw. "So proud of you, baby–"
Someone clearing their throat caught us both off guard and I nearly shot to the complete opposite side of the plane to get away from Harry, my eyes widening at the sight of the pilot who now stood behind us. Harry barely seemed phased, even looked a little amused at my reaction, but reluctantly turned toward the man waiting to address us.
"We've landed, sir," he said smoothly, taking off his hat and holding it against his chest. "The cars are waiting out front for you."
"Thank you, Bill," Harry said lowly.
He nodded at the man who had spun on his heel and was preparing to head back into the front when I blurted, "Thank you. Um, thanks for flying us. You're a great pilot."
The man glanced over his shoulder briefly and gave me a pinched grin, catching Harry's eye – who's expression I couldn't currently see at the moment – before mumbling, "You're welcome..." Harry rested his head on my shoulder, his hand smoothing up and down my back as the man added, "Have a good weekend, Miss Williams."
I huffed out a breath as soon as he disappeared. "I forgot I'm Ava here," I whispered, glancing at Harry, who looked amused out of his mind. "Also, that was stressful as fuck. I've never met a pilot before. Didn't know what I should say."
"Yeah?" Harry's tongue darted to the corner of his mouth, and he worked to suppress a grin. "Well, that was a great practice round. He's not the pilot."
"What–?"
Harry was already in the process of ushering me down the aisle, grabbing both of our bags, and wordlessly led me out toward the front steps as he responded with a laugh, "Yeah," he dismounted behind me, waiting until we were both on the ground outside the plane to stick his face in the crook of my neck and murmur against my ear, "He's my head of security. I can take you to meet the pilot though if you want. Bit of a cranky bastard–"
"Oh my god," I blurted. Sure enough, there was Bill, waiting outside one of the black SUVs that Harry had apparently gotten to take us wherever we were staying, actively trying not to meet my eye. I assumed that in the small glance him and Harry had exchanged earlier, the lovely man now nestled against my back had just silently told him to go along with it.
"I bet he could fly a plane," Harry rested his chin on my shoulder, surveying the security crew. He gave my cheek a quick kiss. "Seems like he could."
I was still embarrassed as I walked up toward the car, bracing a hand on the door before sliding inside to mumble to him, "Well, Bill, you're a multifunctional man. I'll give you that." Harry was laughing the entire time, slipping into the seat beside me moments later.
"I'll take you to meet the pilot on the way home," Harry assured me, leaning forward to give the go-ahead to the driver to start moving. As we pulled away from the jet, heading toward a destination that I realized I hadn't even been informed about yet, Harry turned toward me and asked, "Ready?"