"I'm scared Harry!" I shout, finding some courage to voice my concerns.
"Why? Tell me what scares you Maci and we can work through it, together," Harry asked, concern written all over his face as he watches me from where he stands in the kitchen.
...
We stopped back at Harry's house to get changed. Harry tried to get me to shower with him, to save time and all, but I reminded him of the hundred bathrooms he had in his house. So after we showered and I did my hair and make up, I went to get changed. I grab my dress from Harry closet and head to Harry's bathroom, walking past Harry as he lounged back on is bed, watching tv.
"You can change out here you know," Harry says suggestively.
"I know but I'm not going to," I stick my tongue out at him before closing the bathroom door.
I slide on the dress, the skirt fitting a lot tighter than I thought it would, landing just above mid thigh. It almost felt like a second skin, where as the white top of the dress was loose and felt like it wasn't going to keep me covered. Thank goodness for those stick on bras. At least I'll be covered if anything were to show. I fix the belt around my waist and take a look in the mirror that hung from the bathroom door. So far from what I normally wear but I love it and I actually like how I look in it. I actually look kind of sexy. I feel sexy in it. Just what I needed to boost my confidence for tonight. I left my hair down in some messy waves since its to short to really put up anyways. I slide on my black pumps and take a deep breath before walking out of the bathroom.
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Harry looks over at me as I step out the door and he's off the bed and in front of me faster than it took me to blink. His hands find my waist as his eyes take in every inch of my body. I don't feel embarrassed at the way he's looking at me, hungry and full of want, instead I feel alive, my body buzzing with electricity from his intense, heated gaze. When his eyes finally meet mine, the green of them almost gone, I lose my breath. Desire was written all over his face, his tongue peaking out to wet his lips seductively.
"You look so fucking beautiful. So sexy, baby," Harry tells me, his voice becoming more gruff and sexy.
"Thanks, so don't you," I say, finally taking in what he was wearing. He really just swapped his grey shirt for a white one, wearing this signature black skinny jeans and brown boots. His hair was still damp from his shower, hanging down in a mess of curls, wetting his shirt. He was wearing something so simple yet he made it look incredibly sexy. What did I do to deserve someone like him?
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