When He Holds Your Hand

Harry was drunk; his words slurred and his eyes blinked even more slowly than usual.

“You have five minutes then I have to get back before Will notices I’m gone.”

My heels noisily echoed around the room as I walked to sit on the edge of the bed. I looked at him, taking in how perfect he looked leant against the door dressed all in black apart from the white hearts on his shirt.

I’d managed to avoid the premiere itself, but I had promised Will and Terry that I would make it to the after party and even then I only did so because Harry had broken his silence and phoned me to insist I came. Seeing him at the restaurant the week before had made me miss him terribly, and the shame Will had made me feel made me want Harry back so much more.

“Are you ok?” Harry finally spoke. “Thank you for coming.”

“I’m fine.”

“Why were you crying? Did Will do something?” The words tumbled from his mouth, like they’d been on the tip of his tongue since it had happened.

“I’d rather not discuss my marriage with you, Harry. I was tired and emotional after my holiday, that’s all”, I sighed and looked down at my hands. The gold wedding band was a stark reminder that I shouldn’t stay any longer than I needed to.

Harry came over to the bed, sat beside me then flopped back down.

“I’m so tired.” Muttering quietly, he placed a hand on my back, fingers stroking my bare skin
where my backless dress exposed. “What’s this?”

The sleepiness in his voice was gone and replaced with intrigue. He pulled the lace fabric aside to reveal the rest of my drunken heartbreak tattoo and giggled.

“Why are you laughing?” I twisted to face him. He was propped up on one elbow with a grin on his face, looking dishevelled in the sexiest way possible with his shirt having broken free of his jeans giving a tantalising glimpse of the hips I loved to run my teeth along. “You have some awful tattoos, you can’t judge mine!”

“Hey!” he frowned. “I was laughing because you don’t seem the type of girl to get a tattoo and there you are with a huge anchor on your side like some dirty old sailor.” He paused and looked uncertain, “Do you really think they’re terrible?”

“Harry, you have a tattoo of an iced gem and Pingu.”

I was aware that time was slipping past and I should leave. The conversation was going nowhere but I’d missed his company, even his drunken company.

“I guess we should get back to the party, I just wanted to make sure you were ok, which you are.”

“Which I am.”

As I stood up, ready to leave, Harry’s hand grabbed at my wrist.

“I miss being with you,” he perched on the end of the bed, pulling me to him and trapping my legs gently between his knees. “I’m sorry I messed it up.”

I exhaled loudly, tilting my head back to look at the ceiling, willing myself to be strong and not fall for Harry’s words as much as I wanted to. He squeezed and kissed the back of my hand, lips plump and wet against my knuckles.

“You look so good and I want you so bad.” His free hand went to the back of my knee. “I need you in my life, Layla.” The hand strayed its way up my leg, under my skirt until it reached my behind, fingers stroking along the seam of my silk underwear. “Please look at me.” His voice was a hoarse whisper but I did as he asked. “Do you want me too?”

My resolve weakened as he reached up to bring my face closer to his, the hem of my dress riding up at the back as I bent over. As I came face to face with him properly for the first time in over a month I lost all strength to walk away completely.

“I miss you too”, I whispered back, the sentence barely leaving my lips before Harry silenced me with a kiss.

His kiss was hard, and desperate. He gripped at my waist to pull me down onto his knee, humming with pleasure when I straddled him.

“I can’t stay for long, we’ll be missed.” I gasped between kisses, moving with Harry as he lay down, hips grinding up against my heat.

“A little longer,” he groaned, his fingers burying into my hair. “I promise.”

Notes