No Control | Holding Me Ransom (Book 2)

70 - The Greatest Team The World Has Ever Seen

I woke up the following morning to the smell of bacon filtering into Harry's bedroom. I rolled over in bed to find the covers pushed back and Harry's side of the bed empty, and I sat up and glanced at the clock - nine thirteen a.m. I got up and pulled a white Rolling Stones tshirt out of the chest of drawers in his walk-in wardrobe, slipped it over my head and ventured downstairs after a quick detour to the ensuite. 

As I reached the bottom of the stairs and turned to walk along the hall to the kitchen, Harry appeared in the doorway in a pair of tight black boxers, draped seductively against the door frame in an exaggerated fashion, an egg spatula in one hand and a pair of oven gloves in the other, his eyes smoldering.

"Good morning," he said huskily, a sultry smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "You look hot as fuck in my tshirt."

He pushed himself away from the wall and sashayed towards me while I giggled, and then hooked one arm around my waist, pulling me against his bare chest and lowering his face to mine to kiss me on the lips. I melted into his embrace, a flush of heat working its way slowly through my body. How did he manage to be so cool all the time? Even when he was messing about he was enviably smooth. Did it take years of practice, I wondered, or was it just something that came naturally? I rested my arms around his neck as his right arm slid around my waist, locking me against him so I couldn't escape even if I'd wanted to. Not that I would ever have wanted to. 

He pushed his hips forward gently, and I could feel the beginnings of a stirring in his shorts. I nudged him back, and he gave the smallest grunt of pleasure. I slid my hands slowly down his chest to his waist, but before I could go any lower we were interrupted by a piercing siren in the form of a rapid, high-pitched wail. We broke apart in alarm and I covered my ears with my hands as Harry darted into the kitchen.

"What the fucķ?!" I shouted over the din.

"That'll be the bacon," he replied, turning the gas off.  He moved the smoking frying pan to another ring on the stove and grabbed a tea towel, wafting it fruitlessly at the smoke alarm on the ceiling. A loud banging on the door made me jump out of my skin again. "And that'll be security," he added, throwing the tea towel down in defeat and walking out of the kitchen, through the dining room, to the front door. I picked up the tea towel and waved it underneath the smoke alarm, and eventually it stopped screaming and I heard Harry reassuring Dale that everything was fine. I peeped through the doorway, tugging the hem of Harry's tshirt down to cover my thighs, and gave Dale an embarrassed wave which he returned in amusement.

"Well that killed the mood," Harry huffed when he returned to the kitchen. "And the surprise. I was going to bring you breakfast in bed."

"Awwww," I swooned, pinching his cheek affectionately, and he swatted my hand away with a shy smile. 

"Yeah yeah, alright," he muttered. 

"I think it's salvageable," I said, peering into the frying pan. "It was the fat that was burning. The bacon's just extra crispy, exactly how I like it."

"I knew there was a reason I love you," he grinned, tweaking my nose and taking the pan from me.

"Because I love crispy bacon?"

"Well, that is a deal breaker," he winked. "But I meant because you're not high maintenance. You're so easy-going. We're a good match."

"I think so too," I smiled back, and we beamed goofily at each other for a moment. "You're going to burn my breakfast again if you don't watch it."

"Shit," he muttered, looking back down at the pan and nudging the bacon around with the spatula in his hand. "Make the brews, will you? I can't do two things at once." He gestured to two mugs sitting by the kettle, teabags already waiting inside each.