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The oven timer goes off, signalling that the lasagne is ready, and I carefully extract it from the oven and leave it to cool. Harry reenters the room with a white towel wrapped lazily around his waist, while his hair is slicked back into a high quiff. He both looks, and smells divine. Shooting me a boyish grin, he lies down on the chair that I was previously sitting on.
"Don't make yourself too comfortable there," I warn, while I test if the lasagne is done.
"Oh, and why's that?" he asks, looking mildly amused.
"Because when I come back, you're definitely moving," I swiftly answer.
"Absolutely not," he casually tells me, "unless you're planning on moving me yourself," he adds, whilst raising his eyebrows in an invitation to challenge him.
Ugh, cheeky bästard. There should be a rule that no one can be this irritatingly sëxy.
He doesn't even notice me staring while he's lazily sprawled out on the couch in all his half näked glory, where I have viewing access to his tattoos scattered over his torso. I've never really been a huge fan of tattoos, but I am now, officially, a convert.
When the lasagne dish has cooled enough for me to hold it, I carry it over to the lounge room with a set of cutlery.
"So, are you going to move anytime soon?" I ask him casually. "Or are you just going to continue to make yourself at home?"
Looking up at me, he grins.
"Well personally I prefer the latter," he teases. Sitting up slightly, he pats the space between his legs as an invitation for me to sit there.
Well. Don't mind if I do.
I idle over, dish in hand, and I place the lasagne on the side of him, and sit contentedly between his legs. Taking a fork with his hand, and steadying me with his other, he stabs a piece, and drives it towards his mouth. He looks utterly delighted as he savours it in his mouth, before swallowing.
"This...is so good," he sighs. "Here, try some," he offers, feeding me a piece from his fork.
"I know what it tastes like," I protest, and turn my head away so the piece of lasagne hits the side of my face instead.
"Look at the mess your making!" he tuts, "Here, I chose this piece especially for you," and he nears the fork closer to me again.
Despite rolling my eyes, I oblige, opening my mouth up to him.
"See, now that wasn't so hard, was it?" he sighs dramatically, as though dealing with a difficult child, "I didn't realise having a girlfriend was so challenging..." and I feel him study my face closely from his comment.
I freeze, because it's the first time he's used that word. Girlfriend. The word seems to reverberate through the empty house and suddenly, I am lost for words.
"Girlfriend?" I ask, not being able to keep the grin from my face.
"Well that's what you are, aren't you?" he asks me.
"I don't know, Harry," I say smiling. "I mean, you haven't exactly asked me properly..." I joke.
"Is that what you want? A simple formality?" he asks, and I nod.
Dramatically he rolls his eyes, taking my hands in his, "Ava Sinclair," he begins sincerely, "I am absolutely and irrevocably taken with you. So much so, that I don't want to share you with anyone else and I want you to be all mine. So please. Be my bloody girlfriend already."
I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him hard on the mouth.
"Yes, a thousand times yes!"
We both laugh at my theatrical response, and the absurdity of it all.
"I'm sorry," I laugh, wiping the tears from my eyes. "I've just always wanted to say that phrase."
"You intriguing little thing," he marvels, looking at me in wonderment.
We continue eating the lasagne while he holds me in his arms and I'm feeling such a strong feeling of fulfilment. To be held by my... boyfriend and to be doing something so mundane as sharing a meal while he plays with my hair. I want this moment to last forever.
"So does this mean I need to change my Facebook relationship status then?" he smirks, nudging me playfully.
"Well, I wouldn't encourage it. That is if you like me being alive," I return, watching the show intently. "And I didn't know you had a Facebook account."
"I don't," he shrugs, his fingers twirling around in my hair.
I aim to take one last bite when a stray piece of saucy pasta lands on my shirt.
"Shīt," I mutter under my breath.
"Let's take a look," he exclaims. " Oh, right on the face!" he comments. "Louis isn't going to be happy about that," he laughs, wiping the sauce off the smiling face of Louis Tomlinson.
I do my best to wipe off the sauce but it's very evident I'm just making it worse.
"On the bright side, he looks like he's had a spray tan," he points out, making me laugh.
"So what's he like?," I ask, curiously. "Louis - and Zayn. What are they both like?" So far Liam and Niall have been friendly. But I have no idea what his other band mates are going to be like. The idea of meeting them all at once is especially daunting, and it'll be good if I can have a run down before that day comes.
"Well, first of all, it's Louis - pronounced Lou-wee, not Lewis. He goes by Louis now, but between you and I, his mother named him with the way you first said it. He just prefers the other way. Anyways, Louis is a proper funny guy. He's always having a laugh, and known for the banter. Nice guy, you'll like him. Zayn's a bit more on the quiet side. He takes a while to get used to I guess. He likes his space and to be on his own quite a bit. But no need to worry - you'll get along with them both," he smiles. I can tell he genuinely cares about them all, just from the way he talks about them. He gets so animated and I laugh at some of the stories that he tells me that happen while they're on tour.
We've devoured a good portion of the lasagne, and I grab the platter to put away but Harry holds me in place. He locks me in, crossing both arms around me, so my arms are locked in, and I'm stuck in between his legs.
"Harry, what are you doing, I'm only going to the kitchen," I assure him and laugh.
"No, stay," he begs, while kissing into the side of my neck. My body language changes immediately to his touch and I hate that he has this power over me. He turns my face to him and we kiss a long, slow kiss. I move myself further into him, and I freeze once more when I feel him hardening against my lower back.
Oh.
"Harry..." I breathe, absolutely stuck for words.
He laughs, "In my defence, you're not wearing any pants. Not to mention you are absolutely delicious," he adds, nibbling on my shoulder. He pulls me onto his lap properly so that he's cradling me like a baby. He strokes my hair in such a soothing manner while I draw little circles over his skin.
I have only one thing on my mind right now. One thing. I bite my lip in thought and Harry nudges me and I stop. This is all so soon. But then again, I didn't exactly plan any of this out. I know what I want, and no matter what happens, I know I could never regret sleeping with Harry. I trust him immensely, and have never found someone that I've wanted to give my virginity to until now. I haven't made any decision to wait until marriage, but I just want to find someone worth it. When I'm making love for the first time, I don't want to feel like I'm losing my virginity or a part of myself, but I want it to feel like I'm finding something. I want it to be mind-blowing, wonderful, life altering event, and I want it to be with someone who I feel strongly about.
"Do you want to stay over?" I whisper.
Harry perks up instantly from my offer, and judging by his expression, he understands that there's more significance behind my question than simply staying over.
He stares at me cautiously, "Are you sure?" he gulps, intently observing me. It's like he's searching for a physical sign that I'm not ready, though I know with more certainty than anything that he won't find anything. I've never been as sure about anything as I am in this moment right now.
I nod my head with a determined sense of certainty.
"Unless you don't want to?" I timidly reply, trying to read his body language.
"Ava you're such an intelligent girl, but that is probably the silliest thing I've heard come out of your lips. I don't want you to feel rushed, or feel like you have to. I get that you... you haven't before, and as beautiful as you are, you must have a good reason behind it. I don't want you to throw it all away because of me, unless you're actually ready."
"Harry," I smile. "I'm ready. I'm sure about this."
"I just need for you to know that we don't need to rush. I'm willing to wait. I'm always ready, and-"
"Harry!" I exclaim, unable to control my giggling. "You need - to stop - talking," I manage, in between kissing his beautiful lips, and eventually I feel him come undone underneath my kisses. I watch his Adam's apple rise and fall as he swallows, and without warning he takes me hand, leading me upstairs. I feel this is the moment leading up to the moment. The moment before something huge happens. I know he feels it too. I just do.
He leads me back to my bedroom and we stand before each other, him in a towel, and myself in my t-shirt and underwear. We're both breathing at a more rapid rate than normal, and keeping eye contact. I'm not scared for what is about to happen, but I am eager for it to begin.
He approaches me, closing the gap between us, and runs his hand underneath my shirt from my waist up. I don't squirm. It's like my body understands the gravity of the situation, and suddenly, I'm no longer ticklish. Wordlessly, he motions, and I raise my arms so he can pull the shirt over the top of my head more easily. Something hitches in his breath and he leans in, pulling me closely into him so that I feel him pressing against my stomach. An involuntarily moan escapes my lips, and he cups my face tenderly while his other hand reaches for my bra strap. I hear the sound of my bra unclasping, and the satin straps fall loosely over my shoulders. I let the material fall to the floor in a tangled mess, and study Harry's reaction closely.
He steps back, taking my body in for the first time and inhales a sharp breath. For the first time this evening I feel vulnerable. I trust Harry, but I've never been so exposed in this way to a man, and I've never had someone examine me this closely before.
He grabs my chin between his fingers and tilts my head to look up at him.
"You are so beautiful," he tells me, his voice sounding weak. "So fùcking beautiful," he repeats, kissing me with passion. It is soft at first, but more eager as it progresses. His hand wanders over my body, and cups my bare breast with his hand. His desperate mouth moves down to my neck, leaving a trail of hot wet kisses and small nibbles into just the right spot. With that, he runs his hand lightly down my body until he reaches the waistline of my ünderwear, and tugs at the material while he lavishly kisses my neck. His hand wanders bravely through my knîckers, and I let out a möan as his finger enters me for the second time. Pulling the fabric downwards until I am completely ündressed. I feel him hard against the small of my back and I lean my büttocks into him, watching him bite his lip in the process.
"You're exquisite," he whispers huskily into my ears from behind me, slightly increasing the speed of his finger movements in the most perfect way imaginable. I try to listen to him but the sense of pleasure is too much for me to focus. I feel my mouth widening due to the overwhelming, and uncontrollable feelings of sêxual gratification.
Satisfied, he turns me around to face him, and his towel that was clinging loosely to his waist now falls to the floor by our feet. His mouth forms around my lips, and instantly my mouth parts as his tongue enters my mouth, and I feel myself getting more and more turned on as his êrectiön continues to press into me.
"Harry... I need you. I need you right now," I cry out, my voice unrecognisably weak.
Question of the chapter: Do you think that they have a good relationship forming, or are you against Harry and Ava?
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