Turning my head to face him, he smiles down at me and gently brushes his lips upon mine. I want him to cuss and forget this whole stupid bright idea of his, at least for tonight. Sliding my hand behind his neck, I playfully tug at his hair as he deepens the kiss. His lips are soft and mouth warm, his pace is perfect as he teases and comforts my craving.

His hand is gripping me harder at the hip and next thing I know, he startles me by sliding it down between my thighs.

"Aghh, I'm sorry! I'm doing horribly," Harry yanks his hand away and throws his head back.

I yearn to convince him otherwise, pulling him closer and parting his mouth with my tongue, earning a moan. Very carefully he returns his hand to my hip. And like a puppeteer, when I pull on his hair, he hisses and drives his hand to my crotch again. Who are we kidding, we can't keep away from each other, not with this fire.

I'm caught in between, his hand pressing down from the front and his groin pushing me from behind. Why does he have to feel so good? I'm aching to feel his soft skin, just this once. . . and again. Granted I said no sex but there's still so much we could work with. Gasps, Harry is turning me into a sexual addict.

His hand is so strong and firm, cupping and steering me against him. I'm hungry again with an aching hollow demanding attention. I feel a tug and desperation in Harry's fingers as they slide down the inside of my shorts, moaning once he reaches the target . . . a wet me.

"I suck at this," he pants into my mouth.

"Me too."

I turn to lay on my back with our foreheads still touching. Enjoying as his hot breaths shower my cheeks and his hand struggles to push my bottoms down further. I'm having my own fun, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and touching every bit of his smooth skin. Two fingers sink inside me and as he begins to thrust with his hand, I feel his hips copy the same motion.

My hand searches for his buckle and proceeds to undo him. It was clear this plan was bound to fail. I manage to tug his pants down to his calves, but as I strive to push my shorts all the way down, I kneel up and Harry loses his balance. Silly boy topples to the floor with his legs cuffed together by his jeans, we have no choice but to laugh.

"I'm alright!" Harry smiles childishly. "Stupid trousers!"

I can't stop laughing as Harry struggles to pull them off his feet. He then slides his shirt off, forms it into a ball and throws it on the floor, pretending to be angry. He grunts but he's clearly smiling and jumps on the couch, wearing his socks and underwear now. I'm still kneeling on the cushion in my black panties and lace top, but how long could I stay strong for the both of us? I get a crazy idea and skip on over to his bed to grab the comforter. I roll it up in my arms and with a mischievous grin I scurry out of the bedroom.

"Where you going? Come baaack," I hear him complain in amusement.

I've already made it to the balcony. It is freezing out here. Living in the spur of the moment, I shield myself with the heavy blanket before Harry comes out. He's cupping his groin, cold hitting him harder as he slowly walks out.

"Woman, are you mad? It is cold as fuck out here!"

"Sit." I say, standing in front of an empty chair.

Harry shakes his head, turning on a few heat lamps, "Nooo way, I'm not putting my ass on that cold chair. Crazy!"

I laugh and wait for him to come closer, then I open my blanket to wrap it around him, but he's too busy getting other ideas. Shifting the blanket, Harry sits back on the chair and I carefully sit on his lap. His groin wastes no time in waking up, vacuuming my heat for growth.

"You're so warm . . . of course my bed is even warmer, but I'll give you some points for spontaneity," he smirks and licks his lips.

"Shhhhhh," I whisper and kiss him with the heat that I have left.

His arms hold me down, our mouths cramming on each other ever so violently and groins moist and pulsating. Harry's stare is lewd, biting his bottom lip when we pull away to catch our breaths. I sit perfectly still, not wanting to provoke him any further. Out of nowhere, he hums the opening tune to my song, triggering a memory.

"You know I was fairly drowsy, but I'm pretty sure you sang to me the other night," I wrap my arms around his neck. He only grins an answer. "Could you sing for me again?"

"Any requests?"

"Surprise me," I smile bashfully.

Harry scowls deep in thought, arms wrapping around my waist. He clears his throat and his eyes soar off the balcony.

"Oh please, say to me," he sings slowly into a ballad. "You'll let me be your man. And please, say to me, you'll let me hold your haaaand. I want to hold your haaaand. I want to hold your hand."

Harry's trancing lullaby calms our fervent bodies. Our hands are mysteriously tangled together, resting on his chest.

"Aren't you cold, sweetheart?" Harry awakens me from my daze.

"You've never called me that before," I acknowledge, ignoring my frozen toes.

"Hold on to the blanket," he instructs, scooping me in his arms to carry me inside.

Harry's feet shuffle through the kitchen, holding me securely like a baby cradled in his arms. We fall like feathers upon his bed. His green irises penetrating mine. He's so quiet, it frightens me to think he might be changing his mind. Without a word he gets up to search through his dresser.

When he climbs back on the bed he hands me his clothes, a comfortable shirt and cotton shorts. I take his shirt and sit with my back facing him. Pulling off the delicate lace top, before I can unclip my bra, Harry's mouth meets my shoulder. I continue to remove my undergarment and slip into his shirt.

"If you could do anything tomorrow, with me, what would you like to do?" Harry asks with two beautiful dented cheeks.

"Hmmm . . . Something simple like shop for groceries, make dinner and watch movies."

"Sounds wonderful," Harry lays on his side and caresses my cheek with his thumb. "We'll go to the farmer's market in the morning."

His smile is the last and first thing I see in the day. It feels like I only closed my eyes for a few minutes and now its morning. I would have been torn to pieces, had I left tomorrow, but he granted me time. A few more days to get even closer and realize my heart was never really bruised, it merely shed a calloused layer and was fresh to be wounded or nurtured again.

Harry's eyes open, like emerald jewels, and hair tossed in every direction. Such a pretty face. A dimple greets me before we have a chance to speak. I begin to wonder if this day is really meant for the two of us alone, yet I can't shake off the gut feeling that this is too good to be true.

"This feels real," I whisper vulnerably.

"I know," he smiles back.

I cuddle up closer to him, not ready to get up. His arm swings over my chest and holds my shoulder as he lays on his stomach. My fingertips draw shapes on his back, I love the way he looks as he's stretching under my touch, like a kitten arching his back.

---

For already seeing ourselves naked, Harry shows great respect in leaving the room for me to change, or keeping distracted. Its only in the heat of the moment that he pierces his eyes and absolutely nothing can peel them away. I'm pulling up my hair into a neat ponytail and once I'm done, I straighten my sleeveless polkadot dress.

I brush a natural rose blush across my cheeks and apply pink tinted lip balm. My freckles don't seem to bother me as much this morning, I agree, scrunching my nose while swiping my bangs to the side. I walk out of the bathroom and search for my black flats and yellow cardigan, they're somewhere in my luggage on the floor.

Looking up, I find Harry smiling at me while placing his watch on his wrist. He has a simple navy blue t shirt, looser jeans and white Chucks. I grab my black purse to meet him by the door and when he comes out he is wearing an olive beanie. I could get used to lazy days like these.

Harry takes me to the Broadway market, it looks like a big crowd of hipsters and I'm home. We follow the delicious aroma of fresh baked bread to one of the tables and take a sample. I love how relaxed we are, not many people are aware of who he is, and if so they aren't bothering us. He keeps his shades on however, even though there aren't many youngsters around.

"What would you like to eat tonight?"

"Hmmm, I quite like tacos," he raises his brows.

"Okay . . . I know a great turkey taco recipe?"

"Then I'm in! What do we need?"

Creating a mental list, I begin to lead the way through the market. With our first purchase of tomatoes we are given a burlap bag and continue to shop for cilantro, lettuce and tortillas. We pass a few crates of oranges, blood oranges, and Harry stops.

"We could make rich orange juice with these. I'm excited just think-ing bout it," he smiles.

"Really, you're very excited?" I tease him a little, imitating his accent.

"Little bit. How would you put it . . . a smudge?" his mouth lingers on the word creating the cutest pucker. "Watch this."

Harry grabs two oranges and begins to toss them in the air, after a few swings, he grabs another one. His eyes are focused and lips pressed tight with spurts of smiles as he keeps balance. People are staring and marveling at his juggling act. Attempting his forth orange, he makes it through a couple of rounds before one falls.

There's an applause from the small audience as a few people give him a thumbs up and pat his shoulder. We end up picking those oranges and a few more before moving on. We enter a canopy full of thrift goodies and I take off to explore. Harry finds a newsy cap and vintage rocker shirt while I spot a chic flapper style dress. My eras are all mixed up.

"Hey, pick the most hideous glasses you can find, for me," Harry suggests.

I find a pair of neon green and yellow speed racer looking ones and hand them to him, while he hands me these obnoxiously bright yellow ones that look almost like flat goggles. I have the feeling he wants to keep these as we go to pay for our stuff. I love this kid's personality and I too want to show him my fun side.

"So what other hidden talents do you have Mr. Styles?" I ask as we slowly walk our way back.

"I can whistle very loud," Harry stops and places two fingers on each corner of his mouth and blows. The first one is just a blow until a staggering whistle shoots out.

"Ahh, like this," I grab my index finger and thumb and push my tongue back to deliver a similar one.

"Unreal, you are one of the few if the only girl I know that can do that."

"I learned from my dad," I shrug. "Impressed?"

"Very! What else can you do?"

I blush a bit, its been so long since I've tried this. I quickly practice once, holding a finger up for Harry to give me a moment, before showing him. Then I stick my tongue out and curl it so it looks like a 3 leaf clover. Harry smiles in shock, laughing at my skill.

"That's insane! How do you do that?" He tries to fold his tongue. We look like a couple of idiots I bet.

"I knew this girl that did it, when I was in 4th grade. So I practiced everyday in front of the mirror till I got it."

"I can think of a couple of things we could do with that hidden talent," Harry wiggles his eyes and nudges my arm, wearing his famous sly grin.

"Shut up," I laugh.

Notes

Please Vote if you liked this chapter :) Gracias