Whatever Chains (Sequel to Where Your Heart is - A Harry Styles fanfiction)

He always manages to sweep me off my feet just when the ground seems to be shifting under them.

But then again, he is always the reason why it shifts in the first place.

I knew what I was doing when I picked the dress I would wear tonight. I had the mission of engraving myself into his memory in a way that would last the year, at least.

But the way he's kissing me right now lets me know that I did more than that. And maybe I wasn't ready for it.

This is one of those moments when your body and your brain don't seem to be in the same page. Or even worse, they're not even in the same book.

My brain is telling me to stop; it is shouting an endless list of why this should not be happening, waving red flags all over the place and practically setting itself on fire with frustration.

And my body, well, it is also on fire. But for a whole different reason. And every inch of it seems to think that the only way to put it out is to keep doing what it is doing.

Grabbing, squeezing, pulling. Everything happening at then same time, chaotically and yet perfectly synchronized.

We are both clearly struggling to draw a decent breath of air into our lungs, but neither of us makes a single attempt to break apart. Instead, we stumble our way behind a three, and the moment I feel the rough wood against my back, I use it as leverage to lift my legs up and wrap them around his waist.

He gasps into my mouth, surprised by my sudden boldness, but he doesn't hesitate to slide his hands under my skirt all the way up my thighs.

At this point, I am so far gone that it is impossible to hear my brain complaining about this. Or maybe it decided to just shut up and go along with the ride. Either way, I'm glad.

"Lea..." He says my name against my lips, and our teeth collide awkwardly. "Are you..."

I pull him closer, although I reckon it is quite impossible since there is no space between us.

I don't know what his question was going to be, but the only answer I am able to give him right now is this low moan that surges from the pit of my stomach, like a starving little monster guarding the bowl of freshly served food it had been waiting for for so long, ever so patiently.

Every part of me can feel his touch, like a wave rippling across my whole body and making it shiver, forcing every dormant cell to wake up all at once.

His fingers are now venturing even further up my skirt, reaching my underwear and creeping under it, teasing me to the point of blindness.

And this time he is the one making all the wild noises.

"Harry?" A female voice comes from behind us, and we both freeze. "Where are you? Mom wants to make a toast!"

His fingers don't leave their new found place, but they are now still and digging on my flesh. His forehead slowly rests in mine, and I open my eyes before he does, so I get to see the frustration plastered in his every feature, as it is probably plastered in mine.

Half a second later, when the footsteps become dangerously closer to where we are hiding, he opens his eyes and with a swift but careful movement, he manages to puts me down without making a single sound.

I slide my way off of him and both my arms grab the sides of his sweater so I don't lose the little balance he left me with.

"In a minute!" He shouts, making sure that his voice comes out steady and unaffected, covering my mouth with one hand when this nervous giggle rips out of my throat.

"What are you doing there?" Gemma asks, forcing him to jump sideways to meet her before she gets any closer, and his hand leaves my mouth to rest on my stomach as he pins me to three.

"Nothing... just getting some fresh air." He says, and I see how he tries to arrange himself as slyly as he can. I stifle another chuckle and the pressure of his hand gets stronger, scolding me.

"Yeah, looks like you need it." And I can hear the amusement in her remark. "You must be Lea, then."

My laughter falls flat right in that second, turning into a weird, uncomfortable snort. I cover my face with both hands and after considering coming out of my hiding place, I decide that I must look a little too bothered to do it.

"Hi." I say, stretching one arm to the side, waving at the air.

"Hello." She greets me back, entertained by the situation. "Nice to... sort of meet you."

"Alright!" Harry rolls his eyes and clears his throat, waving his sister off. "We'll be there in a second."

After Anne's quite touching toast, it was almost impossible for Harry and I to get some time just the two of us, let alone reprise our heated, interrupted moment.

His family members seemed rather eager to chat and catch up with him, and her sister was now utterly fascinated with me.

So he spent the rest of the evening getting swarmed by people; and I got bombarded by questions.

I tried to be as nice as I could, answering her questions with a smile; but I was still trying to get rid of the haze his kiss and his touch threw me in.

"Are you ready to go?" My mother comes from behind me just when I was taking advantage of Gemma getting distracted with her Instagram feed to sneak out to a now less occupied Harry.

I turn around as she's putting on her coat, and although there's a wide smile on her face, I can tell that she's tired.

I barely saw her tonight after we went our separate ways when we walked in, but every time I would spot her she would be laughing and chatting rather lively with all kinds of people.

Apparently, she recognized a few of them from around town, so keeping my mother company was one less thing to worry about. Except for the fact that she's my ride and she now wants to get cracking.

"Could we stay a little longer?" I ask her, and she gives me an exhausted smile. "Just a few more..."

"I can take her home later."

His voice startles me a little, stirring all those things that never really quite settled right at the very center of me.

My mother looks at me, searching for my approval, and after I nod my head almost imperceptibly, she just kisses me in the cheek and after thanking Harry for the offer, she walks away from us.

"Thank you." I say to him without taking my eyes away from the front door, and his fingers brush my hand before they twist around mine.

"Don't thank me." He responds, leaning closer to my side, so his lips almost touch my ear. "We both know I won't be taking you home tonight."