The thing about addiction is, it never ends well. Because eventually, whatever it is that was getting us high, stops feeling good, and starts to hurt.
--Grey's Anatomy
Harry's P.O.V
I never knew true addiction until her. I never truly understood what it is to crave—mind, body, and soul—until nothing matters but fulfilling that craving. Until the only thing that matters is easing the hollow ache inside.
It's there whenever we're apart. Like a dark hole, it lingers, intensifying until my mind is full of blonde hair and blue-green eyes. Until my mind is full of easy curves, bare before me. Until my desires reflect her bending at the waist, her pert, little arse in the air, colored red by my palm, the outline of my fingers visible against her pale skin.
Every day, it's something new, something different, something I never allowed myself to think of. It's more than against the wall, more than her hands bound, more than a blindfold across her eyes. Now, I can think freely, imagine all the ways and all the places I can have her.
Because she trusts me.
And she's fucking mine.
My Liv. My bitch. My beautiful, flighty bitch.
Now, she's sitting in front of me with her eyes wide and her hands covering her mouth.
She's deathly still. And quiet. So fucking quiet that every second that passes cuts deeper than anything she could ever say would.
But she hasn't moved away from me either. She's still sitting in my arms, her legs hooked over mine, staring at me like it's the last thing she ever expected me to say.
I run my eyes across her face, taking advantage of her silence to look at her. Her hair is messy, her blue-green eyes shining, her cheeks flushed. She looks freshly fucked, and she is, but more than that, she looks shocked.
"Liv?" I prompt. "Are you going to say anything?"
She drops her hands and slowly licks her lips. My gaze instantly drops to her mouth.
"I, um... I don't know what to say to that," she says slowly.
"Well, the last time I had to tell someone I fucked a student, I nearly got punched." It's one of the only times I've ever seen Aaron lose his shit.
She knocks her fist into my chest lamely. "There. Does that make you feel better?"
I stare at her. Why the hell isn't she running? Why isn't she looking at me with disgust? Why the fuck is she still here?
"Er, thanks?" I frown.
She sighs softly. "I think I know what you're expecting, but you're not going to get it. I'm not going to get up and demand you leave, okay?"
"You should."
"Yeah, you're probably right. But I shouldn't have slept with you a second time. Or agreed to do it on a regular basis. Or gone on a date with you. So I'm a fucking expert at doing things I'm not supposed to." She shrugs. "It's in the past, right? Just like you didn't push me away when I told you mine, I'm not going to do it to you."
"I still don't understand."
"You're really dumb sometimes." She taps me on the nose, her pink lips curving into a small smile. She cups the side of my head and runs her thumb across my cheek. "We said we'd try and work past all our bullshit. That's part of it. We have to accept each other's pasts and move forward. You can't change mine and I can't change yours, so there's not much point in getting all panty-twisted about it, is there?"
I cover her hand with mine and wrap my other around her neck. I pull her into me, so close that our lips touch, and hum low. I love the way she tastes. I can't put my finger on it, but it's incredible.
"You're right, baby girl," I murmur against her mouth.
"Of course I am." She rests her other hand at my waist. "I'm a woman. Sooner or later, you'll learn that I'm right even when I'm wrong."
I already know that. She was wrong to go along with anything more than just one night with me, yet nothing has ever felt more right.
well here it is. you asked for harry's point of view, you get it.